Self-Centred Brats

Don’t think I didn’t look for a ‘background music’ gig for the title of this blog; I did.  I just came up empty handed!

I never realised what an absolutely perfect ex-wife I am; it’s good to be perfect at something!   

Some could say that is because I’ve been an ex-wife so many times and that may have helped; but I don’t think it’s just about that. 

So what is it..?  I'm a rather rational human being who realises that when you break up, both parties want and need to move on.  I was fair in asset splits and I walked away, let it go.  I didn’t feel as though I had to make their life a living hell.  Frankly, I’m more the “you are dead to me” type; so unless I have to contact them, they don’t hear a peep out of me.

I spent my 46th birthday on a farm with ex-husband number 1.

He didn’t think I was a harridan; we were just too young and too stupid to make a marriage work.  Husband number 2 would tell a different story although he did run off to the Gold Coast with his girlfriend when I was about five months pregnant with my daughter.  This puts him in the “scum of the earth” category as far as I’m concerned, so what he thinks doesn’t really count.  But hey, I didn't kill him - that makes me reasonable in my books!  (I don’t think wishing him dead counts...)

Husband 3 and I did our own settlement and divorce.  Hell, we went to the courthouse for the divorce and then went out for lunch.  Very civilised; but we had decided a long time ago that our son was more important than anything else.  Having said that, he has become downright distant since he married a “younger wife”... Yeah yeah, get over yourself.  She’s a control freak and since getting his vasectomy reversed and then moving to litter the planet with test tube babies, has discovered that “younger wife” doesn’t necessarily mean “one that puts out”.

So all in all, I consider I’m a pretty easy going kind of gal.  They all got to keep their super policies, although now that I basically have to die as a retirement plan, I can see may have been overly generous.  Still, it isn’t hard to be civil to someone.  And it is healthy for the kids to have that; important to encourage them not to take sides and to consider both parents in gift giving or the simple phone call at Christmas or birthday.  Firstly, it’s basic manners where I come from.

Yet there are those, like the Squeeze who get stuck with utter harridans for ex’s; and there is no shaking them off.  Especially if there are kid’s in the picture they can use to bludgeon their ex with.

I have two brothers.  Both divorced.  One actually did ok; he kept the relationship as ‘reasonable’, which basically means they don’t do “hallway” sex anymore [mutter “get f*cked as you pass each other in the hall].  

What you ask, is reasonable..?  Reasonable in my book is polite with an ability to attend the functions that you must attend or have a discussion when there is a kid issue.  It doesn’t require friendship; you don’t want them hanging around or calling in for coffee; that is just downright creepy.  You want... I’d rather not see you, but if forced to, let’s be polite.   Brother two of mine did not do as well as brother one.  His ex-wife, affectionately known to the family as the “fat, brown toothed, slut” is just plain evil.

Now I am stuck with the squeeze's ex-wife.  And trust me; she is one can short of a six pack; a sandwich short of a picnic; a screw loose; downright ridiculous.  And with each of those totally accurate descriptions comes the fact that she is a vegetarian, velvet wearing, tree hugging weirdo who considers penicillin is ‘evil’. 

She has manipulated these kids to do as she says; lie and hide things from their father (for example, moving house... WTF?  Like he wasn’t going to work that out since he has to do the 3 hour round trip to velvet land for kid pickup and drop off every single time!)

She has taught them to be selfish and self serving, but only where he is concerned – ie; this weekend Kid 3 headed down the coast with Mummy dearest.  His father didn’t rate a call or text Easter Sunday; nor could he be bothered answering any calls the Squeeze put in.  (And if that brat gets anything for Easter, I’ll totally wig out!)  Once again, the Squeeze received a gift from my children, from his own, he received nothing.

What I really hate about the Harridan, is that she fosters a ‘let’s treat your father like crap, because that bastard dared to move on with his life!!!!  Dared to be happy!  Why isn’t he dead?  Why aren’t I off spending whatever damned money he managed to clutch to his chest and escape with!!!  Why can’t I stick his head on a damned pike!”

And that kind of malice is scary.