When I last blogged, my Insignificant Other had just received a windfall. $24,000. He left the next Friday evening, and I didn’t hear from him again. He didn’t even leave me a note. He wouldn’t answer his phone. Did I dare hope he finally got the message, and left me once and for all? Unfortunately, his clothes were still hanging in the closet, and none of the things he generally packs whenever he’s going to leave me were missing.

Which was more worrisome than if he had actually left. Think about it. He’s been hanging out with the Pen Pals and common streetwalkers who all know he’s got his pockets stuffed with cash. The reason I know this is that he likes to play Mr. Big Shot. He likes to throw money around, to show it off when he has some, to spend it on people to impress them. And he’s not answering his phone. Had someone hit him over the head and taken the money?

On Monday afternoon, I gathered the basics: a scanned copy of his driver’s license that I keep for exactly this sort of reason, his social security number, and the name of his bank. I was just about to go down to the police station and fill out a missing person’s report when some babe came to the door looking for him. It was his hot-body boss whose computer was spread out all over my dining room table. Turns out she’s pretty nice. I told her what I was about to do, and she asked if I had called the Pen Pals. I don’t know their numbers, or the hotels they live in—at tax payers expense…did you know that?…they also get free medical—so, no, I hadn’t. She said she thought she had a phone number at home, and she would let me know. Less than an hour later, IO came home. Said he had been two states away for the weekend. The next weekend, he went several states over in a different direction. To his credit, he still had some money when he returned. I have no idea how much (or how little), but some, I think.

The weekend after that one, he bought me flowers and a very expensive trinket I had been wanting for many years. Then he wanted to be paid for it. Because half that money is legally mine, I didn’t feel obligated in the least. If he won’t give me what’s rightfully mine and takes action to prevent me from having it, then anytime he wants to spend big bucks on gifts for me, I’m going to let him. It’s the only way I’ll ever see any of that money. In the meantime, I’ll work at becoming financially independent, and when I leave him, I’ll take the gifts with me. I’m just colorful that way.


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