My ex- bailed on me after a house fire, where we lost 3 of our kitties and his dead mom’s Golden Retriever, both his parents’ (separate) deaths, business difficulties, etc.

Hooked up with one of his clients.
Had the nerve to tell me he didn’t see any way out of our $643K debt.
He hated being a contractor (family business he ran into the ground).
She was going to take care of him while he decided what he wanted to do with his life. At 42. Well, I guess these decisions can take time.
Didn’t know what he wanted, but evidently after 18 years it wasn’t anything with me.

I’ve struggled, taking care of our, now MY pets, several jobs at a time, living in a shell of a house, scared to death. But I’ve made it. In the last 10 years, on a waitress’ and yoga teacher’s income, I didn’t lose my house. I even managed to continue to rebuild, one step at a time, teaching myself.

The sweetest revenge wasn’t something I took.
It was just living my life. Rebuilding my life. Rebuilding my home.

I saw him a while back and my 6′5″ total hunk of a husband, 8 years younger than I, looked like a fat, puffy, old guy. He was soft, balding, (coming his hair straight back, looking like a serious redneck) visibly dissatisfied with everything, and a braggart. Wasn’t working, so his benefactress held the purse strings. While he decided what he wanted to do with his life.

From his comments, I knew “Paradisio” had turned into a living hell for him.
So sad.
Mwahhhhaaaaaaa