Significant Others

It’s gotten to the point that my (still Godammned, please divorce me) husband and I have been separated for so long, that we’ve both gone and snatched ourselves a significant other.

I’m not so sure about how “Emily” feels about her new beau refusing to divorce me, but I do know that it drives my man bonkers. He wants to move on with me. That’s not a 100% reality until the divorce papers are signed.

I was upset when the ex started bringing Emily around. It started out as an emergency and then it became such a regularity that my daughter actually asked if she could spend some alone time with Daddy. I admit, I was super jealous. I wanted to know what she looked like, what she did, was she prettier than Mommy? Nicer than Mommy? Crazier than Mommy? Leave it to a six year old to assuage her Mommy’s fears. It turns out, that Emily is kind of boring. Kind of plain and kind of the opposite of Mommy. My girl told me that I would always be her Mom and no one else. That was the point that I looked at myself and my fears and laughed. How insecure was I to think someone else could replace me? Then I began to think how useful Emily could be. For instance: I hate playing Barbies. Emily, being super eager to please, will play Barbies for hours with my girl. No harm, no foul. Another instance: I’m not quite sure what Emily does for a living, but she always seems available. Free childcare!! What?! Excellent. So Emily, I don’t know you, never met you, but as long as you’re good to my girl, I’ll accept you.

My boyfriend is a bit of a different story. He works long, hard hours. He doesn’t want to overwhelm my girl. He’s only met her three times, but he came over on Christmas Eve day and we had the best time. He has a tremendous amount of energy and he’s great with kids having a gaggle of nieces and nephews. He can do things with my girl that I can’t. He can lift her up and spin her around. He can run around outside with her and he’s strong enough to help her smash rocks with a hammer in search of geodes. He doesn’t play Barbies, but he piques her intellectual interests. He has a great knowledge of botany, farming, animals–things a Brooklyn boy doesn’t usually interest himself in. I would never dream of using him for childcare, but I love that he’s scarce enough that my girl gets super excited when I tell her we’re going to hang out with him. It’s wonderful.

So, this Mama learned a great lesson. The best her Dad and I can do for our girl is to remain civil to one another and find mates that will be good to our one and only. I don’t know how long his relationship will last, and I still fear that he’s going to bring a string of women in and out of our daughter’s life, but that’s on him.

Now if only he would sign the Goddamned divorce papers!!!

Can I Get a Divorce, Please?

On January 25, 2013, my husband of almost seven years went to court with an “emergency order to show cause” (law lingo, sorry..) effectively having me evicted from our residence and awarding him sole custody of our girl.

You can read about that here.

He never gave me a form reason for those actions, it has been a war with periods of intense battle and then (relief) ceasefire. I have a strong feeling it had to do with my emerging illness. (He never was quite the caretaker.) i have stronger feelings that it had to do with his addictions to sex with multiple partners, mental disorders and possibly the scandal. No matter what his reasons were for filing that emergency order, which was dismissed a couple of days later and actually led me to an old lover, the joys of pawning expensive jewelry and feeling like a wanderer for a few days, this guy still won’t commit to divorcing me.

Hello? Can you divorce me, please?

A few weeks ago during one of our ceasefires, I asked about his attorneys failure to respond to my settlement offer. He hemmed and hawed and then, something strange…

He started talking to me. Confiding.

He’s a serious and unmedicated ADD/Bi-Polar dude, so I never know which personality I am going to get on a regular basis. I’m not even sure which pole he was on this particular night when he told me that he feels, subconsciously, that his failure to proceed with our divorce in a timely fashion is because if he is still “married”, he doesn’t have to fully commit to another woman.

What? Come again? Mister, you can’t use our marriage as a little jail cell for your estranged wife!

He went on to tell me that he has been dating various women and they all want the same thing. (Get ready to feel like punching him in the face if you are a woman in your mid-late thirties.) He says “You know, I’ve been dating a lot and I’ve had a few short term relationships, but I’ve noticed that these women in their mid to late thirties all want the same thing. They want to get married, get knocked up and stroll around Ikea every Sunday. That’s not really what I’m looking for, so by remaining separated and not divorced, I can’t give them what they want.”

…thoughts…

  • You are a pussy.
  • You have a crazy inflated sense of yourself.
  • You don’t want to let me go.
  • Do you still love me? Do you think you made a mistake?

I didn’t know how to respond. How does one respond to that? I can’t remember what I said, but it wasn’t angry and it wasn’t nice. Maybe I didn’t say anything at all? Was he lying? (He’s a liar.) Is it about money? (He’s going to have to pay me a shit ton of money once we settle this divorce.) Was he trying to make me feel comfortable with him so that I wouldn’t be on guard for one of his surprise attacks? That’s the problem with his diseases. I never know what is real and what is contrived and it’s exhausting.

I’m tired, man!

Since that bizarre conversation, I have asked him and my attorney ten or twenty times about finalizing the divorce. Nothing. I’m about to embark on my three year anniversary of being separated and things have changed! I have a boyfriend now, someone with whom I would like to share my life with and have another kid before a) my cancer comes back or b) my eggs dry up. My daughter is almost seven and if this had been done in a timely fashion, it wouldn’t confuse her so much. She thinks that Mommy and Daddy are still married but just live in different houses. I try to talk to her about marriage and divorce and Mommy and Daddy having boyfriends and girlfriends, but she refuses to commit to that idea because we’re still married. Poor girl.

Christmas is upon us and I remember the gorgeous gifts he used to shower me with. This Christmas I’m only wishing for one thing…

His signature.

Sign the papers.

Make me an ex.

I’ve been a good girl. Really, I have. 

Can I get a divorce, please?

Beg. Borrow. Steal.

I haven’t been well these past couple of weeks. Raging fevers and general malaise prompted my oncologist to prescribe me 20 mg of prednisone a day and strict bed rest. I didn’t even get bed rest when my ob-gyn thought … Continue reading

Get Busy Livin’ or Get Busy Dyin’

Another hot recluseI am becoming have become a recluse.

Not quite sure when or how it happened. Slowly, over time, but yeah.

I have become a recluse.

I’m sick. I’m exhausted. I’m sad and depressed. This is so honest my heart hurts writing it.

My life has become a mundane routine of waking up, dropping my girl off at school and then off to various doctor appointments or other wretched obligations. I have a hair appointment tomorrow afternoon and I don’t want to go. I’m dreading it.

I’m dreading a hair appointment!

I crawl underneath my covers in a benzo haze and pray for sweet dreams. I wake up to a silent phone.

Where did my friends go? Where is my family? I’ve reached out. I have. They’re gettin’ busy livin’. And I’m getting busy dyin’.

Except for him. I love him. More than any man I’ve ever known. He wants to see me and I push him away. “I’m too sick” I say. I am sick. Physically. Emotionally. I don’t want him to see me like this.

He makes me feel ALIVE. Maybe that’s why I’ve been pulling away. I miss him so much my body aches. His voice. His scent. His laugh. His…

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I fought so hard. I got busy livin’…not knowing if I would actually make it.

I made it.

When the divorce started, sick in my bones, I fought like a boxer. I won. I made it.

This winter was brutal, but I got up everyday, put on my face and got busy livin’. Spring is life. Life. Spring has arrived and I’m too busy dyin’ to LIVE.

I’ve never felt this way before. If it wasn’t for my girl, Oh My God, I’d spend my life in bed. Throw away this phone that I’m writing this from and wither away.

I want to say these feelings will pass, but they’re not feelings. They’ve become a way of life.

I don’t want to lay down and die. That’s not me! I’m a fighter! I’m fun! I’m happy. I used to be.

I gotta get busy livin’, man, because dying, dying is way too easy.

Being Single is Fun. Being a Single Mom is…

My Dad died when I was ten, so technically, I grew up with a single Mom. I know the struggles she went through trying to make ends meet, taking care of her five kids all the while dealing with her escalating Multiple Sclerosis. The major differences between my single Motherhood and my Mother’s is that she had a slew of kids ranging from six to sixteen years old and a sister who lived downstairs with us. That alone was a lot of help for her. My older brother and sister were given a tremendous responsibility and times were different then. We could walk to school by ourselves and play outside with our friends with no adult supervision–she had some alone time–not to mention a washer, dryer and dishwasher. (Oh, my kingdom for a washer and dryer!) She owned our home–my Dad made sure the note was paid off before he passed away, so we would always have a roof over our head. My Mom struggled, but I’m quite different from my Mom. She never dated another man after my father died. I, on the other hand, had to deal with a phone call home from my seventh grade math teacher advising my Irish-Catholic mother that I was doing poorly in math because my mind was wandering. She told her I was “boy crazy.”

I still am!

That is one of the greatest aspects of being single again. I can date, I can flirt, I can have as much sex as I want with whomever I want. As much fun as that is, it’s not always so easy because, well, I’m a single Mom.

I spend most of my days at various doctor appointments and almost every afternoon and night taking care of my daughter. I love my daughter. I don’t know what I would do without her. Before any man, ever, she is the love of my life, but damn, that little girl makes dating so difficult. Shit, she makes taking a long shower pretty damn difficult!

Whenever I meet a prospective date, the conversation usually goes something like this:

Prospective Date: So, I would like to see you, maybe a couple of drinks or dinner?

Me: Yeah, great, that sounds good.

PD: How about Friday?

Me: Sorry, Fridays are out, I have my daughter. And Saturday and Sunday are out too, because it’s my custody weekend.

PD: I understand, what’s your schedule like?

Me: Well, I’m free on Wednesday and Thursday nights and every other weekend. I can usually meet up for a cup of coffee on Friday mornings.

PD: Well, Friday mornings are out for me, I work, but we’ll talk, we’ll figure something out. Text me when you know you’ll be free.

I know, I know…it’s so simple…Get a babysitter!!! Not so simple. Babysitters are expensive and the trustworthy babysitters are hard to find in this part of Brooklyn–some of them have waiting lists! Then you’ve got to to the interview, introduce the potential babysitter to your kid, have them spend a couple of hours together to make sure they mesh and the biggest problem with a date night babysitter is…no sex. I’ve got to go home. For a first or second date a babysitter is fine, but there will come a time that sex will become an item on the dating menu and unless it’s my weekend “off”, I can’t stay over–or even stay out too late at a man’s house and I certainly can’t have him stay at mine. Besides, I don’t want to come home to my daughter looking like I just got fucked. I actually have limitations.

I have some family and friends that can help me out for a couple of hours when I have to go to a doctor’s appointment, but they have social lives too, and it’s really difficult to get a trusted friend or family member to change their own social calander to accommodate mine. As far as school vacations are concerned, oh man, forget it. Cancel that week. I’m on lockdown.

One more important difference between being simply single and a single Mom is my apartment. Any man I choose to date has and will know immediately that I have a daughter, but I truly believe that unless said “man” has children of his own, seeing that Mr. Bubble on the ledge of the bathtub is a reality check. The children’s book I forgot to put back on my daughter’s bookshelf after reading her a story in my bed. The random Lego that is so painful when stepped on with bare feet on the way to use the restroom. Being simply single means you have an “adult” apartment, and for the most part mine is, but it is undeniably shared with my little girl…books, Lego, My Little Pony and all.

During the past thirteen or fourteen months since I’ve been separated, I have had some excellent adventures with men. Admittedly, they are fewer and farther between than I would like. I have also bonded with my daughter in a way that I could never imagine happening had my STILL husband and I had not separated. I just wish it wasn’t so difficult to have both. I suppose you can’t have it all, and I would choose my child over any man, any day…but..well, I’m boy crazy!

And I always will be.

The Five Hundred Dollar Letter

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Some of you may remember how upset I was in my last post “Crying in My Coffee” about my (ex)husband wanting to introduce my little girl to his new girlfriend. You may also remember that as I was having this conversation with him, I simultaneously     e-mailed my attorney. Today I open my inbox to find this:

Dear Mr X,

My client advises that the parties previously agreed that the child would not be exposed to any unrelated persons involved in an intimate relationship with either of the parties during litigation.

Please advise you client to refrain from introducing his girlfriend to the subject child as we would like to avoid motion regarding the same.

Very Truly Yours,

The Best Attorney EVER

Yeah, he charges $500 bucks an hour, but he gets shit done. And $500 is worth its weight in gold for my peace of mind.

Yay Justice!

Crying in My Coffee

Last night I called my daughter to say goodnight to her, as she is staying with her father this weekend. A few minutes after I hang up with her, he calls me back. He wants to talk to me about something. He tells me he has this girlfriend (you might remember her as the “massage girl” from “My funny Divorce.”) I knew they were seeing each other, but he drops this bomb on me.

Him: She’s a very important part of my life and is going to be in it for a long time. I would like her to meet our daughter.”

Me: Absolutely not.

Him: Why? I’m having some people over tomorrow and i won’t introduce her as my girlfriend, just introduce her.

…I open my email and start a note to my attorney and her child advocate with one hand as i hold the phone with the other hand…

Me: “We’re not even divorced yet. She’s still getting used to two homes, she just started Kindergarden–why are you going to fuck with her mind even more? I don’t want her around that cunt. I know who she is. You talked so much shit about her over the years. If you bring that whore near my daughter, expect to see me in court this week.

Him: I want you to understand, she’s a very important part of my life and isn’t going anywhere. There’s going to be a time when they meet.

Me: (Typing and talking) Now is not the time. I don’t want the three of you behaving like a family. I don’t want her to try and be my daughter’s mother. (Now I’m crying…)

Him: Well, this is why I called you. This is co-parenting.

Me: (In my mind: Shut the fuck up.) I already wrote an e-mail to the attorneys about this.

Him: I really don’t think we should get the attorneys involved.

Me: I do. I will. I am.

Him: I’m glad we had this talk. She won’t be meeting her any time soon.

We hang up. I start crying. Why do I have to fight for everything?

I try to go to sleep. I toss and turn and finally drift off as my phone rings.

It’s him again.

Him: I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that I upset you and that everything you said about the changes she is going through is right. I’m really sorry I upset you.

This morning he tells me he cancelled the party. It was all a ploy to get this cunt to meet my precious daughter.

I’m still shaken up and teary eyed over the whole thing.

And I got my period.

Fuck.

Diamonds. Rubies. Sapphires. Pearls.

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There is very little I miss about my (ex)husband.I don’t miss the unmistakable sound of his good shoes clomping up the staircases to our third floor apartment. I don’t miss the way he flopped around the bed tossing and turning all night, some nights being so floppy, I would have to take my pillow and blanket and sleep on the couch. I don’t miss seeing his hunched body over the computer screen for 6 hours a night doing God knows what. I don’t miss his ten million newspapers cluttering up our small Brooklyn apartment or the pile of wire hangers he had to return to the dry cleaners each week. I don’t miss his smile. I don’t miss his laugh. I don’t miss his scent. I don’t miss his voice.

But I can not tell a lie.

I do miss the jewelry.

Please don’t get the wrong idea. I am not a materialistic gal by any stretch of the imagination. I live in a tiny apartment. I shop for my clothing at The Gap. I drive a Honda Civic. The basics–and I am and have always been very happy with the basics. I didn’t grow up wealthy, so I was never used to anything extravagant anyway. Even my Engagement ring wasn’t something to die over. It was a simple 3/4 carat princess diamond with a plain white gold band. He put it on a credit card. That’s before he started making the big money and buying me the big gifts.

A pair of diamond earrings for our first Christmas together after we were engaged.

A sapphire and diamond “evil eye” bracelet for our second Christmas together. (I’m half Turkish, I believe in that shit…)

A diamond snowflake necklace for our third Christmas together.

Matching pearl necklace and bracelet for my first Mother’s Day.

And the anniversary gifts…

I can’t count the little blue boxes with the white bows that are scattered around my jewelry drawers. Every girl’s heart melts just a little when she gets one of those. You know whatever it is, it’s gonna be good.

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Several pairs of earrings. Bangles. A silver cross on a chain. Never got a Tiffany’s ring, but we were only married for five years before he ran out on me.

And the very last Christmas gift he gave to me exactly one month before he served me with divorce papers evicting me from my home on the day I was diagnosed with cancer? A tremendously gorgeous white sapphire and diamond ring that blew the shit out of my engagement ring and any other piece of jewelry he gifted me during our marriage.

So, dear (ex)husband, I don’t miss your insanely loud and slightly worrisome monologues while you shower. I don’t miss washing your socks and boxers. I don’t miss cooking, cleaning and keeping things neat for you to come home to.

But, darling, I miss the jewels. I can only pray that the next female you start buying them for is our daughter. Because she deserves them more than the next wife.

An Almost Divorced Woman’s Advice to the Brides to Be

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I’m not bitter. I’m just smarter.

I am by no means a bitter ex-wife to be. I’m happy and I’m at peace. I realized, about four months into this eight month fiasco (with no end in sight) that I simply married the wrong man. It’s ok. We make mistakes. We move on. Despite my zen attitude towards this divorce, there are some lessons I have learned during the course of my marriage that I would like to share with any woman (or man or woman and woman or man and man) who is about to get married. These are precious gems that I wish I would have known before the marriage and not the wedding.

Follow Your Gut Instincts

Make sure it feels right in your heart. A few months before I got married, my mother in law was diagnosed with an incurable brain tumor. She lived for two months. During that time, my (ex)husband was obviously upset and concerned and I know that people handle these crushing situations differently, but after I saw how he “treated” her, I had serious doubts. She needed 24 hour care. His sister ran off to Florida with a drug addict and his brother lived on the West Coast. My (ex)husband was the closest and first born child to this woman and he didn’t care for her at all. He had his brother fly 2,000 miles to be with her 24 hours a day 7 days a week.  On the few days that his brother went home to visit his own wife, my (ex)husband) behaved as if taking care of his own dying mother was a burden. It worried me then, and once I was diagnosed with cancer and he (literally) fled the marriage, I see the connection. I’m not saying he wasn’t good to his mother while she was alive, but he wasn’t good to her when she was dying. I remember saying to him more than once that perhaps we should wait to get married since it was so close to his mother’s death, but he insisted. should have listened to my gut. It’s an old saying, but the way a man treats his Mother is the way he’ll treat you, and that’s just what happened in my marriage. Diamonds and sapphires during the good times, divorce papers at the first thought that he might have to take care of me physically, that a sapphire bracelet wouldn’t make my cancer go away.

Honestly, he did me a favor. I was too scared to follow through with my own plans to divorce him back in 2010 when I suspected he was having an affair and once again, he hadn’t taken care of me when I needed him most (not cancer, something more personal). Looking back on it, I wish I did, but the longer we stay married the better off I’ll be financially, so as long as we’re separated, I’m good.

“Lipstick Money

You don’t have to share everything. Please, fiancees, keep your own savings and checking accounts as well as joint accounts. You don’t have to keep them a secret, but you don’t have to share everything either. I am so happy that I bought some stock on my own back in 2010 for 65 bucks a share. That stock is now worth 200 bucks a share and I have a nice little chunk of change. I always kept my own checking account, not because I felt I had too, but because it was the first bank account I opened back in college and it was sentimental to me. Besides, you don’t want your spouse knowing EVERYTHING you do with your own cash. Yes, I wrote YOUR OWN CASH. I call it “Lipstick Money”. Does your significant other really need to know how much you decided to splurge on those pair of shoes? That belt? His anniversary gift? Does he need to know that you lent your sister a hundred bucks? NO! The answer is simple. NO! Not only will this give you a sense of independence, but a sense of security as well and if you DO happen to get divorced in New York State (the only divorce laws I’m familiar with…) you have to disclose all assets anyway, so it’s not really hiding anything. And honestly, if your spouse to be has a problem with you having your own “lipstick money,” maybe you need to think about why? Is it a control issue? A trust issue? Perhaps you need to assess this before it becomes something bigger. My own (ex)husband never had a problem with my “lipstick money”, but he did have a problem with my online shopping addiction and I had a problem with his going out to lunch every single day. I think, in the end, my lipstick and his lunch evened out.

PUT YOUR NAME ON EVERYTHING “JOINT”

While it’s a good idea to have your own cash, everything else should be in BOTH names. What I mean by “everything else” is the lease or deed to your home, all utility bills, car insurance, cable TV, health insurance (hell, all insurance!), and any vehicles that you use jointly. I made a huge mistake when I first moved into my marital residence of letting my (ex)husband take over all of the bills. In some ways, it was a relief. He wasn’t PAYING for all of the bills, but they were in his name. I just found out that my name is nowhere to be found on any of  the past leases to this rent stabilized apartment in Park Slope proper, and my current lease ends on November 1st.(For those of you who aren’t familiar with rent stabilization, it’s a real estate law that put a cap on how much the landlord can increase your rent every one or two years depending on your lease.) Having a rent stabilized apartment in my neighborhood is the equivalent of winning the New York City housing jackpot. But now, because my name was never put on the lease, (I swear it was, when my daughter’s father comes to pick her up later on this afternoon, I’m going to search for some old paperwork) I’m screwed. My landlady, who is a sweetheart, has to draw up a new lease in my name which technically makes it a vacancy, which technically means she can raise the rent 20%–a vacancy rate according to the Rent Stabilization laws. Since he’s court ordered to pay all of the rent, utilities, telephone, internet car, and car insurance until our divorce is finalized, he had all of the marital residence bills switched over to his address. I’m in the dark about how much it costs to run this apartment and I need to know so I can create my budget once (but hopefully before) the divorce is finalized.

Don’t Snoop…But Keep Your Eyes Wide Open

If your spouse-to-be is always on the computer, addicted to social media, has an extra “work” phone or even an office line, keep your eyes open. I always had a feeling that my (ex)husband was staying up late at night on the computer either looking at porn (I’m not against porn at all, but an addiction to it could be a red flag…) or chatting it up with other women online. The couple of times that I DID snoop, I found some shady shit. One of his college friends on Facebook, whom I noticed always posted random Shakespeare quotes on his wall, actually requested my friendship on Facebook as well. It was to check me out. He went on a “work” trip to Atlantic City one weekend and I was reading a book on his Nook, which was connected to the internet and this chick actually wrote him a message “What’s going on in AC? Anything worth traveling for?” I responded to her message “This is J’s wife. He’s on a business trip. Why do you care?” A few days later he left his Facebook open AGAIN (he had a horrible habit of doing this, maybe he wanted to get caught?) and there is a message from this woman stating “Once your wife starts answering your messages, it’s time to part ways.” Then she “unfriended him.” Fuck her. One morning I looked through his text messages and found a conversation between him and the ex-girl friend who gave him the massage I wrote about in My Funny Divorce. They were still in close communication throughout our entire marriage and I do believe he is seeing her now, although she wants nothing to do with our daughter. She’s a gem.  Really. There are so many experiences I had that made me go “Hmmmmmm…” Like the night he stayed out till 4 AM and while he slept off his hangover, I went through his pant pockets. I found a card for The Bushwick Motel. When I slapped him awake with the card in my hand, he said he was cleaning out his car and stuck it in his back pocket, that it was old. We had only been married 4 months. Even before we were married, I found a receipt for condoms on the floor of his apartment (we weren’t living together yet) from a drugstore in Queens. We live in Brooklyn. Again, they were for his friend Erik.

PAY ATTENTION TO THE RED FLAGS

When I decided I wanted to divorce him in 2010, it wasn’t only because he hadn’t taken care of me during a particularly rough period in my life, it was because i suspected he was having an affair with his assistant. It was early evening and our buzzer rang. It was his assistant’s husband. He wanted to “talk” to my (ex)husband. His reaction alone alarmed me. He didn’t want to answer the bell. The man kept ringing. I was bathing our daughter, and I didn’t want a fight in our home, but I couldn’t leave to see what the problem was either. Five minutes later he was back and shaking. Apparently, the assistant and her husband had an argument which ended in the assistant telling her husband she was having an affair. I asked “who is she having the affair with, and why is he coming here?” His response? “She told him that I introduced her to the man she was having an affair with.” Can somebody say Bullshit?? Two months later, I went divorce attorney and apartment hunting. I was going to leave. I had my “lipstick money” and my mother would loan me the rest. To make a long story short, I gave into his begging. He begged and begged and begged me to stay.

In the end, it works out better for me that he filed for divorce, because he left me just as I was diagnosed with cancer, is the monied spouse and I’m doing ok–financially, physically and emotionally. I even manage to get laid every once in a while.

So brides to be, this is my almost divorced advice to you. I don’t believe that all men are bad. I don’t think they all cheat or lie or steal. I’m just sharing my experience and the little wisdom I gained throughout this ongoing process.

Good Luck!!

Wasting Time

Ugh.

It’s almost 11:00 and I’ve been waiting outside the matrimonial courtroom door for an hour. My attorney told me yesterday that I didn’t have to show up today, but when my ex told me he would be here, I wasn’t taking any chances.

So, here I am. My little ass already staring to hurt from this hard bench, listening to my (ex)husband’s fake laugh as he has his first court appearance with his new attorney. (He has such a fake laugh around people he doesn’t know well or wants to impress or think he’s this great affable guy. I don’t understand how other people don’t realize it.) The judge has taken the bench. I hear her yelling from outside the courtroom. Oh Adam? (My attorney…) Where are you??

I’m sitting here thinking of all the things I need to get done, but won’t be able to because of this heinous waste of time.

Laundry.
Cleaning.
Cooking.
Sleeping off my Rituxan haze.

I’m taking bets. How long will I have to wait before a) the judge takes the bench b) my attorney shows up c) I get to go home, tired and itchy from this starched dress shirt (I specifically asked for no starch!)

How long will it take for this shitty divorce to end??