If you could prove that he hid assets, you would have gotten your claws on them
Oh, I didn't have to prove it. He admitted it. And I chose NOT to "get my claws" on it. I let him have it. In fact, I recall the end of that conversation as though it were yesterday. I sighed, and said, "Oh, Jesus Christ, I don't want it. I just want you to know I know about it." It was, probably, the only time I confronted him with something about which he had deceived me. Never once mentioned the girlfriends, or any of his myriad lies. I just pretended they didn't exist.
And if I thought THAT was the marriage from hell, there was another one waiting down the road for my gullible, naive, trusting self. So perhaps it's not only men who get screwed over when they marry?
I know we could go around forever on this one, but the fact is that I paid all the bills with my wages and he, apparently, was hoarding "his" money. I thought he had spent it all on drugs and record albums. Oh, well.
So what you are saying is that, even though we lived on mostly MY money, and he kept most of his, that I had no right to any of the money he hoarded merely because HE earned it?
I didn't want his bloody money. And I didn't ask for it. However, in retrospect, I really should have taken half and put it in a college fund for my children.
He filed for divorce, and I chose to take no part in the proceedings. I asked for nothing. I assumed I would get half of the proceeds from our house, which was a run-down mess since I was the one responsible for it's upkeep, and I couldn't afford to fix it up, and I suck at home repair myself. He assured me he would help take care of our children, and I chose to believe him. He was honorable in that regard. It was, perhaps, the first time in his life he ever came through on a promise. I used the money to give my girls things they never had before while he was living with them, because he was too busy both hoarding and spending the money on drugs. Things like some decent clothes, and even dance lessons.
Everyone told me I was certifiable, and that all I had to do was go to court and expose his affairs and drug habits, and voila! All would be mine. I couldn't, and wouldn't, do that. For myriad reasons. I suppose because, to me, self-respect is more important than money. And I was not lily-white in that relationship either. I know the damage I myself caused. So how am I going to stand before a judge and state my case when I know that I was just as culpable for the failure of the marriage?
It's really important to me not to be a hypocrite. Although, being human, I very often am. But I never mean to be, and am open to hear about it when I am, so I can correct it.
I am so far from perfect it's actually rather funny. But I do try hard.
I'm sorry to sound so angry. I'm not, really. And I wasn't really angry then. It was what I'd come to expect from him. I know men get screwed over big time in divorce courts, but can't you see it's not always the men? Although no one screwed me over. I made my decision, and lived with it. It's just all this discussion about how women are always robbing men that makes me bring up my own divorce.
Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore. I did what I thought was right, and since my material needs are rather modest, I made out okay after that. I rented a small apartment. Really, all I need is a clean, dry place to live. Having had little money when I was growing up, I have learned to be content with the basics.
And now I have the most loving man in the world. He really, truly is.
Rant over. Time to go to work.
