This is my first post. I'm not sure where to start because I'm so tired, hurt, afraid, angry. Basics, I guess.
My husband of ten years and I are close to retirement age. I don't feel like starting over, but I don't feel like being roommates with a cold stranger, either. I thought we had a great marriage, but it only took money and his kids to change everything. Yes, it's an old story. Yes, my brain knew better, but my heart took over. Another old story. This issue has come up quite a few times over the years, but the camel is now a quadraplegic lying in the middle of the room, the proverbial straw sticking from its spine.
He has three sons, was divorced 12 years before we met. I have never had children and never wanted any. My ex had two sons who were young children from hell, poisoned by their mother. I was my own lesson. I loudly and sternly told myself I'd learned that lesson and would never again marry a man with children. Hence, the login name.
When I say VERY adult, I mean the youngest is in his 30's and not that any of them are mature. This week's saga invovles the middle child. He is charming, outgoing, totally irresponsible, married and living one block from his inlaws and 1000 miles from us. However, it only takes a call and if Alex G. Bell weren't dead, I'd kill him. It seems that living in an exclusing beachfront community is rather taxing. One must be a real party animal in order to get along. Said partying gets in the way of paying one's rent. The wife's parents usually bail them out because they understand the lifestyle better than I. They, too, are party people and have a much larger income than we do. However, the relationship seems to be strained at the moment because her parents just paid $2600 to keep the kids' Volvo going. What's a boy to do but call his guilt ridden father? Why a man is guilt ridden when he raised the kids and worked two jobs to give them anything they wanted I do not know. Catholic upbringing? Anyway, the call came. I heard, as usual, the father's voice become sodden with misery and longing. Also heard that he'd have to think about it and see what he could do. Thinking I could shortcut the thing, I spoke out and said, "If this is money stuff, don't hang up. I'll tell you and him exactly what we have." I was shushed and the miserable leavetaking went on. When he got off the phone, I said he should have let me talk because it only fueled the fires when I knew his "see what I can come up with" was code for "Let's see if my wife can be circumvented." That way, failure would be sure to point blame in the right direction.
We live hand to mouth. All we can manage goes into a 401K, but it's not much. He earns twice as much as I do, but we barely get by. We were doing fair until benefit cutbacks at my job really put us in the hole. He doesn't care about money. If it's there, it belongs to everyone. If it's not there, oh well. That means I am the one managing finances and doing all the worrying and scrimping. He couldn't care less if there were collection calls all day and repo men at the door. I'm the one who is the party pooping bill payer. I bored him with details: We have $80 in checking and $291 in savings. The savings total perked him up. The savings, I went on, was because I was cutting corners to be sure we could pay for tags for my 14 year old pickup and his three year old Altima, and his two motorcycles. That's about $500. Next month, I need hormone implants to stave off osteoporosis, stupidity (too late), and raving rage. That's $200. Tough, but I was going to make it. "So," I said reasonably, "We're actually in the hole $400, but I think I can do it if we're careful. It does mean that we don't have anything to contribute, though." He cried and said it hurt not to be able to give his boy what he needed. Far as I'm concerned, what he needs is to not make his FB profile pictures of all the cocktails they ordered at a new restaurant each night. I sympathized, cuddled, pitited, loved and sneaked in logic. At the end of a couple of hours of this, I decided he was now understanding our position. I bit the trust bullet and said, "You know our precarious position and our obligations. We have no instant money. I have been working hard to get this money up and it is all spoken for. But....I'm going to let you make the decision and trust you to do the right thing." This morning, he was calm and cheerful, kissed me on his way to work,and I waited. At Noon I checked the bank account. He'd emptied the savings and taken enough from checking to make up the $300 to send little Joey, plus $10 to overnight because he didn't want his boy to have to wait. I spent the day hunched over my computer because I didn't want people to see me crying. On the way home, I decided I couldn't change what I had allowed to happen, but I could fix the future. When he came home, I said I thought I had a solution to save our marriage and make him happy. I said he needed to get a bank account. I would split the money I put in savings and he could have an entire half for his account. That account was to belong only to him and his sons. If it was there when one of the three next called, good for them. If not, he was not to touch the household money. He said he didn't need money. I said, "Until next time. We cannot be scrimping for bills months off and have it wiped out in a minute because one of his sons was having another emergency. Mind you, one emergency was that $50 had to immediately be wired because son was broke and needed to buy a nice birthday gift for his godchild. He finally agreed. I said, "I will do my best, but I may ask to borrow at some point if we have a household emergency, like when the air conditioning went out and it was over 100 degrees outside. But, it will be paid back." He smiled and said, "But there will be interest." When my jaw would unlock, I said, "Oh? How much?" He said, "Twenty per cent. Aww, you're a good customer. Let's make it 15%." I said, "%($* You?" and walked away. Mind you, I never say "%($*".
I have been on a mad cleaning spree, have not spoken to the man since. He is sound asleep in our bed. I am dead tired, but can't stand the thought of getting into that bed.
I need a friend.
Sorry for the long post.