This morning I was woken by my cell phone ringing at the ungodly hour of 0844. No one that knows me would call that fucking early. My case in point, I had to divorce him. We were married for a little over 12 years and he barely “knew” me. I listened to his voicemail and he sounded irate, maybe even a little psychotic.
Here’s what’s up: a financial fucking crisis. A bill went into collection today that has his name on it. A MEDICAL bill, for our children family from when we were married, that we were supposed to split after the divorce. He didn’t worry when we were married enough to have insurance for the children, or to pay the bill then. But now, it’s a fucking financial crisis… because… I
didn’t can’t pay my half and it went into collection.
So the voicemail was a delight to wake up to.
I called him back and it went like this:
Him: Aren’t you working? Isn’t anyone spitting out babies?
Me: I can only show up when I’m scheduled. I can’t just “work more” because I’m broke.
Him: All you have is your reputation… blah blah… you’re gonna wanna buy a house someday… blah blah… the kids are always dirty and hungry when I pick them up… blah blah…. you can’t do this to me you know… blah blah… you have to pay this bill…. blah blah…. (bored yet?)
Me: Why haven’t they called me? I will make arrangements for payment … it’s all I can do… blah blah
(I believe I’m crying at this point in reference to the kids being dirty and hungry every time he picks them up.)
So, here’s the thing bitches… I don’t have a lot of money, but I feed my kids dinner every night I have them. Sometimes “dinner” is popcorn at the movie theater. It’s a LOT of calories. No one can be hungry after that… and it’s not that often. I digress… We also bathe, frequently, including oral hygiene (see Figure 1). Sometimes the “bath” is a day at the pool. No one comes home dirty from there though! It’s good, clean fun. I assure you.
(Figure 1... This photo represents "Family." Notice we are all different, but close nonetheless.)
He’s a hurtful ass bag who cannot take responsibility still. It’s one of the many reasons I’m divorced. You know, in addition to the whole lesbian thing… because really that’s like at the top of *my* list.
1033 phone rings
Him: I paid the rest of the bill, your half. Can you just make payments to me? Whenever you can, when you get paid.
(One reason why I married him.)