Push Me, Pull Me

As if I had had a veil over my eyes, it is now lifted. I get it. I will admit I can be slow on the uptake but I have outdone myself this time. Maybe I didn't want to get to this point because I sensed I would get the message I just got. I measured your love for me by my love for you. I measured your goodwill for me with the same yardstick as I measured my goodwill for you. I defined love by the way I love. That was naive. People love differently. People show their love in different ways. And humans don't love unconditionally. God does. Humans don't. Humans have limits to their love. I have discovered ours.

It is now clear that you loved me as long as: you didn't have to work at an outside job, you didn't have to make a financial contribution to our home, and you didn't have to choose between gambling and being married. This past week I learned the limits of this love. I get it now. I may have been the perfect woman on Mother's Day. I may have walked on water in your eyes. But that was before I asked for something from you that you are unwilling to give. The boundaries are clear now. This marriage works for you as long as I pay all the bills, and you get to live the Life of Riley.

On Saturday you asked me if I would take a two-week break from legal advancement. You asked me to take a 'respite' from these divorce proceedings. You said you realized that I have been under a lot of stress. I told you I wanted a three-week respite, I want to hold off until school is over on June 18. I think you had been bluffing me as if we had been playing Texas Hold'Em. We had been holding our two cards for a while. Then came the flop and I thought I had a winning hand. I went all in. And even if I didn't have the winning hand, I was tired of sitting around this same old poker table, going nowhere. I needed to go all in and get out of the game. Then came the turn; your hand was looking pretty good. Now we've got the river card and you're not too sure you have such a good hand. But I'm all in and I'm playing out the hand. I might lose this pot but, when this hand is over, I'm getting up and walking away from the table, big pot, little pot, no pot. I'm finished gambling with you. I'll walk out of this casino called marriage, out into the sunlight, into a new world, and I'll keep going. You're hedging your bets? No, it was just a ploy. By Monday evening you were texting me that by today you needed spousal support in the sum of $2500 a month, a reasonable amount in your mind, something any judge would order, we can work out the details as we progress with this divorce. No dice. (Ooops! There goes another gambling metaphor.) I told you to stop bullying me, and if you're going to act like that, you can work exclusively through my lawyer. You backed down, said you were upset because I hadn't answered any of your texts during the day. Called your bluff!