“everyone I know
goes away
in the end…”
— Nine Inch Nails, Hurt

     On March 31st, 2006, I put my ex-wife on a one-way plane to New Zealand never to return.

     She had treated me like crap for so long, making me drive her around when she was perfectly capable of driving herself… spending every dime I made like we had an endless supply of money… and being generally pissed off 100% of the time.
     Of course, to others, she was sweet and personable, but when she made best friends with the woman who she knows abused me my entire life (my mother), that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

     In January of 2006, I told her, “I have all of the responsibility here, none of the benefits, and I’m spending so much time taking care of you that I don’t have time to work.  I have to quit in the morning to take you to your job that pays less than fast food, and then stop in the afternoon to pick you up and listen to you whine and complain until it’s bedtime, at which point, one of us sleeps on the couch.  I am, at this point, under so much pressure that I am ready to kill myself.”
     Instead of understanding, she gave me 847 more reasons to go ahead and do it.
     And I told her to get out.

     And so, I gave her divorce papers which she never signed. 

     In November of 2006, I had her sign them again, notarized, and tried to file them.  However, there was a mistake.  So the process started over in February, all to no avail.  She wouldn’t return anything or attempt to make any contact regarding them.  This went on for a year.

     In February of 2008, I got an attorney to do it. 

     And so, today, September 3rd, 2008, my divorce was finalized after giving her ample time through all proper legal channels to do “something,” and she refused.  The same way she refused to get her teacher’s license, fill out her papers for her drivers’ license (I had to do it for her), etc. etc. etc. 
     The woman would simply take no initiative whatsoever to try and better any circumstance whatsoever.

     And so … I’m finally single.  Finally free to marry my Wildcat, who’s been a better wife the last year than the ex.

     Now it’s just a matter of getting her here.

     When I was much younger, a friend of mine — a customer — was married to this guy who used to beat the crap out of her pretty much on a daily basis.  I hated that guy … just because I felt he was a total pansy to beat on a woman like that.

     One day, I went over there working on their computers, and he delivered a fist to her face while she was sitting at the kitchen table, just a few feet away from me.  She fell on me.
     I beat his sorry ass.
     And guess what I got for the privilege?

     Yep …

     Her ass beating on me.

     A couple years later, I went over there, and he hit again.  Right in front of me.  But he didn’t stop there… He picked up an iron skillet and began beating her in the head over and over…

     While their kids watched…

     So I carried one of the kids to their bedroom and put him in his crib, and talked the other two into going to bed early.

     Then I proceeded to destroy his sorry ass.

     It was fun…

     Beat him within an inch of death, in fact.

     But then, I turned back to her, still struggling to get up off the kitchen floor.  I screamed at her for being so stupid.  And in retrospect, I shouldn’t have.
     But the questions I was screaming … How could she put her kids through that?  How could let them watch all of that?  What kind of mother was she?

     I called another friend of mine, who lived close, and together, we packed her stuff and drove her out of state to live with her mother.

     She hates me, still.

     And this is precisely why Cops don’t like taking Domestic Violence calls… Those women most always seem to defend the bastards who put them through the most Hell…

     But at some point, with a lot of caring and understanding, they do get over it.

     Or, at least, you hope they do.

     [ The following is angry.  If you don't like anger and angst, don't read it.  But it's shit like this that's a big part of my problem. ]

     Back in 1999, I had some pretty bad misfortune fall on me in a foreign country.  I met a woman.  I liked her.  She was hot.  She was fun.  Everything else in my life was turning sour in that damn country.  In February of 2000, I moved in with her, and she helped me out for a few months while I got everything back on track.
     I met and loved her family.  We were all supportive of one another.

     By June, things started getting weird.  She started getting emotional.  By July, she was completely bonkers.  In August, she finally went to the doctor.  In September, she had surgery.  I felt so bad for her.  And on the 29th, I married her.

     Things got better.

     We both had good jobs and were able to do pretty much whatever we wanted.

     We took out an insured loan of $27,000 so we could have a bit more cash onhand.  With the insurance, it became a $30K loan.  We needed a refrigerator, which was around $8,000 in that shitty country.  We could have afforded it in a couple months, but needed it then.  And then, for some reason, I wanted her to meet my family.  We took a very, very long trip through the United States and Canada and back to the Hell country we lived.

     In May of 2001, we moved to a new house.  And that’s when the trouble started.

     She became distant and quiet, and completely and totally demanding.  She was angry at me 24-7.  I didn’t know what to do. 

     After watching 9-11 not happen on local television, hearing radio personalities go on about how we deserved it, getting a ration of shit for trying to buy cigarettes on multiple occasions and having a Prime Minister ensure her country that “The events in the United States have no influence on New Zealand,” I decided I needed to be back in the United States.  
     It was a long process.  In February, I had to beat the shit out of a Consulate guard just to get in and keep my appointment.  Everything kept getting worse.
     I lost my job in February because my sorry-ass South African bosses didn’t want to pay salary or bonus or wage increases or anything else, and decided that in order to reduce costs, they’d claim that I was stealing intellectual property.  A real joke, being that I was Senior Developer — the only developer — for that company.  
     Fortunately, our $30K loan was paid down to just over $8,000, and being insured and my just having lost my job, that was pretty well done.  The policy clearly stated that they would pay my payments for a full year in the event that I got divorced or lost my job.  It didn’t have all the fun stipulations that most do, and I’d clearly lost my job.  However, they were unhelpful.  They ignored the insurance policy and started threatening and cussing me out.
     I told them to stuff it.  It was their $8,000 to pay, and I had a signed contract to prove it.

     Finally, in June of 2002, we made it back.

     We lived in DC then.  I had a pretty cushy Government job and she was teaching school at a prestigious-yet-shitty institution who didn’t pay their staff even half of what their public school counterparts made.  It was disgraceful.
     Still, my wife was distant, angry and demanding.

     I had a six-figure job offer in Knoxville, my hometown.  And so, in June of 2004, we moved back here.  My six-figure job was a lie.  Everything was.  I started another business and kept us afloat until just after Christmas of 2005.
     Things had stayed the same between us.  She was distant, angry, demanding.  There was no budgeting with her.  On top of that, she took a part-time job working full-time hours as a substitute teacher at a school, and the school board would make no exceptions for her foreign experience.  She wouldn’t get her stuff together to get a full teacher’s license, and by this time, she wouldn’t drive anywhere.  My responsbility to drive her around, to and from work, and I’m trying to work, but dear God, would she take the bus?
     Eventually, she wouldn’t leave the house anymore… just sat there barking out orders from the couch, and spending every single dime we had if she went out with my mother.

     They were best of friends.

     In January of 2006, I felt so much pressure that I was about to kill myself.  I told her… and she responded with 847 more reasons why I should go ahead.

     I pulled myself together.  I told that I wanted a divorce and that I wanted her to get out.

     Back to New Zealand for her, a one way ticket.  Instead of feeling pain immediately, I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders.  Not long after, the depression hit.  If I couldn’t keep my promises to her, what good was I?

     By April and May, it was pretty obvious that talking to her was like talking to a wall.  I stopped for a long time.  I sent her final divorce papers in June, and she never bothered to sign them.  She said she never received them.
     In July, the National Bank of New Zealand started letting her have it good and hard claiming that we owed them $23K.  I sent her the papers for the loan, along with previous balance statements.  Open and shut, right?
     By then, I was well into a major depression.

     In November, she came back to pick up some of her things.  I thought we could at least part as friends.  She apologized for the way she treated me, and that was good enough for me.  I spent every dime I had making sure she was comfortable on the trip, as Mommy Dearest dropped her on me and took off.  She signed the divorce papers before we left Knoxville.
     For a short time, I thought we talked about reconciliation, but apparently I was incorrect, as was blatently pointed out.  I filed the papers, but the property settlement was kicked out.  I sent her an ammended property settlement to sign, and she never bothered to respond to it or the emails I sent her.
     I mailed back more of her things in 2007, all to no avail.

     Eventually, her phone was disconnected.  All of her mail was returned.

     In January of 2008, I filed another divorce, having been two years (which showed abandonment) hoping that I could finally get on with my life.  The Wildcat and I had plans.

     In March of 2008, she finally responded … that I owed her $27,000.

     After supporting her for four years and having her spend every single dime of every single paycheck, regardless that we had to pay rent or insurance or… Yeah, stress, when you have to magically pull money out of your ass for four years because your wife is too lazy to get off her butt, get her license and actually make a decent wage for a change.

     But oh, I owe her $27K.  And I still don’t have a divorce.

     Yeah, I’m still married.

     And while she’s sitting around in New Zealand making $50K a year — about fucking time — I owe her $27K when I made us far more than that for six years solid… And me, I can’t afford to pay attention.

     Right this second, I’m thinking that since we’re still married, maybe I should just move back to New Zealand and move in with her.  I mean, what could she do about it?  I mean, she is my wife, isn’t she?

     So seriously, Mommy Dearest’s bestest little buddy — GET OVER IT AND LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!

My friend Jane has been having serious relationship issues lately. Almost to the point that her head is turning all the way around like that possessed chick in The Exorcist.

After much thought (and actual research) on why relationships fail, I’ve come to the conclusion that the sister just needs to settle down, grow up and learn to deal with real life problems as they come at her.

Jane spent several days in a highly agitated state. Being around her as much as I am, I started to be concerned that something might be wrong in her relationship with the fella she’s supposed to marry soon. So, being a good friend, I asked.

She started explaining that for the most part, her relationship with Pete was awesome. They have alot in common (love of music, riding around with no real destination, talking about silly stuff, family values… you get the picture). She then went on to tell me that even though she knows he loves her and he does so much to show it by spoiling her rotten and giving her everything she could want, that there is something really important missing. Intimacy.

At first it appeared that she was troubled by the decrease in or lack of sex in their relationship. But after listening to her and thinking about what she had been saying, it was clear to me that it was more than her being horny and him ignoring it. There was something more to it.

In a relationship, there has to be a balance in every aspect of the relationship otherwise the whole world may seem like its coming to an end. Everything just has to be n’sync.

The emotional needs of both partners must be met by showing compassion and allowing the other to see into the heart of the partner.

The social needs of both partners must be met by doing things together. Whether taking a road trip, going out with friends or sitting on the front porch having social hour.

The intellectual needs must be met by discussions that run deep. As long as the two can discuss THEIR personal views together it doesn’t matter what the discussion is about. Communication is key in keeping each other interested.

Now, all of the above needs were being met for Jane. But the one need that threw the balance in Jane’s world out of sync was closing in for a kill in the relationship. So, she was naturally falling apart at the seams trying to figure out what to do. She couldn’t figure out why Pete was pushing her away when it came to her physical (sexual) needs.

I asked her if it was just lack of sex. As it turns out she just needs that intimate closeness. The hand on her leg when they are in the car. Getting naked and snuggling close with his arms wrapped around her, without the expectation of sex.

My suggestion to Jane was… talk about it. Make sure you both know what the problem(s) is/are. Many times there is a reason for said problem. Sometimes it takes some tears. Sometimes we have to say what we feel, even if it hurts.

Fact is, it takes work to maintain a relationship. It takes attention to detail in every aspect of that relationship to keep it going strong. If you can’t talk about what might be bothering you and you can’t talk it out, there might just be a bigger problem.

As for my friend Jane, she went to Pete and made sure that the lines of communication were wide open.  Hopefully, they can talk about whatever they have going on and get things on track.