Divorce Sucks

Two weeks before Christmas I was home sick from work. Late in the afternoon there was a knock at the door. I drug my pitiful self out of bed, pulled on some clothes, and stumbled blearily to the front door.

Out of the blue, I was handed divorce papers. In that moment, my world came crashing down around me. I'd heard the phrase many times before, and it always struck me as hyperbole. Now it was my turn.

Evidently while I was working myself to a frazzle every night and weekend to make extra money for a baby we desperately wanted, my wife decided she wanted to spend the rest of her life with someone else. Within a couple of hours, she showed up at the front door with the police (!), a moving truck, and a list.

And that was that.

The love of my life, the one I was going to sit on the front porch swing with as we grew old together, had summarily wadded me up and tossed me away after almost 12 years together.

To say I am devastated would be a colossal understatement. I'm just aghast at how much this hurts. There was no discussion, no warning, no nothing. She had planned it for months and hid it from me. Happy Holidays, indeed.

Time has moved into slow motion. Each day drags on almost forever in the lonely, empty, echoing shell of a home we shared together. There is no contact except via lawyers, and I have no idea where she is.

She also skipped out entirely on our financial obligations, leaving me to pay everything with just my income, which means I've been living for over a month on Ramen noodles and hot dogs so I can continue to pay her life insurance, her car insurance, her 3 credit cards ($16,000 worth), her cell phone, her parents' cell phones, classmates.com, and so forth.

This leaves me without two nickels to rub together. Even better, she's going after me for her homewrecker lawyer's fees (Tom Vick) as well as $800/mo. in "spousal support". Translation: she goes off all the time to out-of-town dance competitions in fancy hotels, and wants additional play money on top of all the bills I'm already paying on her behalf.

It doesn't matter, though, because I simply don't have it. My lawyer had me come up with a budget, and bare-bones doesn't even begin to describe it. Clothing for my professional job? $9.23/wk. Groceries, pet supplies, cleaning supplies, toilet paper, household expenses? $69/wk. Entertainment and pocket money? $9.23/wk.

Not exactly living high on the hog. I literally can't even afford to run the heaters in the house, so I get the great pleasure of freezing to death in my own home.

In fact, I began this week with a grand total of $43.26 to last until Friday. $10 for gas and $25 for a prescription co-pay, and I'm down to $8. I'm glad milk is only $3, 'cause I'm out.

Too bad I don't have any reserve, but she went shopping before she left. Fancy new cell phone, new GPS, had her hair done, her nails done, her Christmas shopping done, her dry cleaning done, the car serviced and detailed, a bunch of music from iTunes, and so forth. She left with no warning and with only cobwebs left in the checking account.

I had been working myself silly making extra side money - money that went to an early pay off (among other things) on the car she took.

I don't even want to talk about how I'm supposed to pay the property taxes on the house which are due in 10 days.

I also still want a family. Swell. Now I'm old, out of shape, broke, kicked to the curb, and have to re-enter the dating pool hoping to find someone young enough to have the kids I so desperately want. I'm sure there are lots of nice young ladies out there with a fetish about grandpa. :-/

Someone shoot me now.