It’s Not Fair!

[I hesitate to post this entry. Alimony is one of those topics that can act as a third rail. It does for me. It does for any number of current and pending divorcees. Some are being screwed because their ex-spouses aren’t paying their child support and/or alimony. Some are being screwed because they’re being required to pay an exorbitant amount. And I know plenty of both men and women on both sides of that equation.

Since Penny and I haven’t gotten that far, yet, I have no idea what burden, if any, I might have beyond half of the dollar cost of providing for the kids. Penny and I have ostensibly agreed to try to split everything down the middle, which would mean no alimony and close to equal child support — and we both agree that if one ends up substantially better off financially than the other, then it’s reasonable for that one to pick up some slack in providing for the kids. To the extent that one of us may find a job well before the other, we also ostensibly agree that the employed party will pitch in, within reason, until the other party gets back on his or her feet financially.

I bristle at the notion of formal alimony however, because Penny should have been working for years and deliberately withdrew from the work force at the time we most needed the additional income. Notice I assume, by this statement, that alimony (or, rather, palimony) would not flow in the other direction — to me. I can’t imagine a scenario in which it would. Or should.

I hesitate to post this because I don’t want you, dear reader, to think less of me because of my own feelings about Penny. But, this is where I’m at today. Tomorrow… who knows?]

Yesterday was going well. At some point, Penny went off to take care of some work-related issues at the office — when you own your own business, there’s rarely such a thing as a day off — leaving me to mind the kids. The boys were remarkably well behaved, and everything was going relatively well.

Penny phoned from the office at some point about one work-related thing or another, and then the conversation turned to our divorce. She had, while at the office, ended up on Facebook chatting with a mutual friend who is experiencing similarly brutal financial constraints. (Her own business tanking, and she, like us, is about to lose her house. In her case, to a short sale.) This woman also had a rather nasty divorce (the husband was a Grade A douche bag, and his kids are going to suffer the emotional scars of the fallout for years to come), but this woman can also be a bit… intrusive? Invasive of one’s personal space? She’s a bulldog of a real estate agent, so it can be good to have her in your corner, but you don’t necessarily want her in your personal matters because, well… because.

Penny feels the same way — as an introvert, perhaps moreso. So, Penny was (guardedly) chatting with this woman, which brought up a lot of issues concerning our house, our future, and our divorce — Penny thinking about the implications, but not willing to divulge too much to the friend. The resulting conversation between Penny and me was rock solid. We were on the same page. We were talking about when to tell people. We were talking about future holidays — she suggested, for example, that until significant others become an issue, we may want to spend the holidays together with the kids, etc. All very positive.

So far, so good. A good day.

My future ex-wife then got home and made dinner (oh, and by the way — I do cook family dinners, too. Just so you know. I hate that gender stereotype, among others. But on this occasion, Penny cooked the dinner.) I got the kids’ baths going and came back downstairs. She brought up the subject of alimony, as it pertains to other divorced friends of ours.

My brain crawled into it’s cave.

Many, many friends of ours have gotten divorces. Who knows how many others are currently, like us, in the midst of one? But while she brought up the subject as it pertain to others, I couldn’t help but feel like there was an undercurrent concerning our own situation.

Without going too far into detail, let me mention a few issues here:

• We’ve both been working on/for our business, but Penny (by her choice) spends more time on the kids than on the business. In an ideal world made to my order, it would be the other way around. She knows this.
• When previous joint business ventures of ours have hit hard times and one of us has had to go back to the work force to make the mortgage payment, she has always insisted that it should be me, because my earning power is better than hers. This, of course, does become a self-fulfilling situation as we run through the cycle a few times and her skill set becomes increasingly out of date. Oh, and then there’s the whole breast feeding issue. Hard to argue that one.
• My skill set for my own industry is currently very out of date, which is a big problem, and I am looking at other career possibilities as a result — but that essentially means we’d both be starting fresh in the job market.
• Penny doesn’t like looking for work. Neither do I. But I do what needs to be done. Thus far, in this particular arena, she has not always done the same.
• Penny is very, very competent. And she has done well in the work force when she has chosen to do so.

But as we talked about the alimony of others, she was getting upset when I pointed out that with the advent of equal rights and women breaking the barriers of formerly traditional roles, most states no longer automatically grant alimony. It’s not fair, she was saying, as she became obviously more upset. Society punishes women who stay at home to raise their kids — the women who do so are behind the proverbial eight-ball when it comes to catching up in their salaries, because they’ve been out of the work force.

While this is undeniably true, I was nonetheless hearing alarms shrieking in my head. Because while what she said was true, it was clear that the only remedy that was on her mind was alimony. And although the ostensible topic at hand was our wealthy, divorced friends, I kept hearing, “you need to take care of me.”

That’s not what she was saying. But it’s what I was hearing.

And… I don’t want to take care of her. Because I feel like that’s been the entire story of our entire messed-up marriage. And I want out.

While I was pointing out some of the flaws in the logic of her specific argument, she was becoming increasingly upset. I wasn’t acknowledging her more general point, that it’s not fair that women bear an unfair burden when it comes to child-rearing. And I was becoming increasingly upset, because the general point isn’t the point. Specific cases, for me, are the point. If you want to talk about C—- and L—–, then let’s talk about them. If you want to talk about L— and L—, then let’s talk about them. If you want to talk about us, let’s talk about us. But every state is different, every marriage is different, and every divorce is different. And arguing that “It isn’t fair,” is a hopeless proposition.

Because: Life. Isn’t. Fair.

It’s not fair that I foolishly wasted my love and my time on a woman who didn’t have much more use for me than as a sperm donor and a paycheck.

It’s not fair that me acting with good faith and integrity meant that she held my sexuality hostage. For fourteen. Goddamned. Years.

It’s not fair that I am a more involved father with our kids than any of the other fathers we know, and yet she doesn’t respect me as a provider.

It’s not… well, fuck it. The thing is, I was raised with the mantra that life isn’t fair. There are peaks, and there are valleys, and most lives spend time amid both. The songwriter Mark Knopfler captured the sentiments of my paternal family succinctly: Sometimes you’re the windshield, and sometimes you’re the bug.

Penny, who has somewhat of a penchant for learned helplessness, rails at the unfairness that has been dealt to women she doesn’t know (because, quite frankly, the women in the cases we were discussing are doing rather well for themselves), presumably because she identifies with them. Her tendency toward learned helplessness has become a raw nerve for me, but particularly in this case. Because, if she’s going to complain about how our divorcing presents a hardship for her, how does it escape her that it presents a hardship for me, too? That our entire marriage presented a hardship for both of us?

I’m not as bitter as this post might make me sound. I don’t typically wallow in, “It’s not fair.” Not as a general rule.

But the whole conversation touched a raw nerve with me. The fact that I threw away my love, my affection, my attention, my working life, my parenting life, and so many other efforts and hopes and dreams on a woman who ultimately could not love me back? That’s not so much “not fair” as it is… an unfortunate error on my part. A mistake. There is no blame. There is no fault. There are choices, and there are consequences. I am responsible for the choices I’ve made and I am now, finally, making new choices.

My apologies to those of you, my readers, who have genuinely suffered at the hands of the courts granting too little or too much in the way of support, or at the hands of ex-spouses who aren’t fulfilling their obligations (legal or moral) to you or your children. I won’t be that guy. I will make sure my kids are provided for financially and emotionally. I will make sure to meet my obligations.

But as much as I know I need to set my small amount of bitterness on the subject aside, when it comes to providing for Penny herself, well… I feel that she’s made this particular bed with years of her own choices, and it’s up to her to sleep in it.

Without me.