Posts Tagged ‘hookers in hotel rooms’

The Gloves are Off

August 23, 2010

My Insignificant Other Had Me Arrested Today.

I’ve shown this blog to a couple of carefully chosen people and asked for advice on what to do.  One who has known me for a long time, said:

1) That I need to remove myself from this dysfunctional and destructive relationship immediately.

2) That I have to take care of myself, first.

3) Because I can’t get my hands on any of the windfall that Insignificant Other has stashed, and I don’t make enough income to live on, much less pay a lawyer, that I need to contact  Legal Aid.

4) That I have to stop “just” threatening repercussions, and actually follow through. I am like the parent who tells Little Johnny to stop, but he doesn’t ~ then I tell him there will be punishment for his actions if he continues, and he still doesn’t  ~ I tell him this again, and he doesn’t ~ and I tell him yet again, and still, he doesn’t. There have been no ramifications, it’s all been for nothing, and now he is completely out of control and doesn’t worry, because nothing will happen to him.

I told my friend that what prevents me from following through on my threats is wondering what right I have to dictate how his life is going to be. IO asks why I get to make all the rules, why things always have to be my way, and I don’t really know the answer to that. How can I justify that “we’re going to do it my way, or else”?

And my friend said, “You have a right to say what can and cannot happen when it affects you. If his friends come over and it affects you, you have a say, when he does something and it hurts you, you have a say. When it affects him and doesn’t affect you (even if it bothers you) then you have to question this.”

So I called Legal Aid that same day, and I don’t qualify. I made just a few dollars too many, and have failed to learn to work the system. Then I called a bunch of lawyers to see what they would charge me to get out of this mess. I signed up for a free consultation with one.  It was exactly as I feared. I can’t afford it. He told me if I win the lottery, by all means, come back to see him.

Today is the first day I have needed to make good on my threats. First Pen Pal came here with Third Pen Pal while IO wasn’t home. Third came to the door, came in, we spoke for a couple minutes. He went back out. They waited outside until IO arrived home, then First Pen Pal came up to the office window and cheerily said hello to me through it. He does this to antagonize me because every time he is here, I tell him to leave. I told him again. If you know me, you know I’m blunt. I don’t mince words when I need to make a point. I’m colorful that way. I do not know how I could make it any plainer to the guy that he is not welcome here. And he doesn’t care one bit. Like a six-year-old, he asks “But whyyyyyyy?” I closed the window and dropped the blinds. He knows it’s because he snuck that Brooks Road hooker into my house after I had gone to work.

I have a dear friend whom I have always adored and do not see often enough.  Though she denies it, I don’t think her husband is particularly fond of me–so I don’t go there. Why annoy him? Why would I want to throw my friend’s life into disruption or chaos that way? Isn’t it so much easier to meet her somewhere and let sleeping dogs lie?

When Insignificant Other came home, I told him I wanted First to leave. I had my own plans for enjoying my weekend and back yard without him in it. And just like First, IO doesn’t care what I want or how I feel about anything. When he refused, I told him I was going to call the police. I had to go to four different neighbor’s houses to borrow a phone, but I made good on my threat.  And when they came, they didn’t care what I wanted, either. Apparently, Insignificant Other’s desires supersede mine. I told them that First is not supposed to be across the state line; surely that must mean something. But they said they spoke to his parole officer on the phone, and she knew where he was, and it was okay with her. So, hey…okay with her, okay with IO, okay with First and Third, the only unwilling party to the party was me, and I didn’t count. Never mind that I live here, and they do not. I tried reasoning with the cops, but they wouldn’t listen. So I told them to leave, too. If they weren’t going to help me, I didn’t need them.


What I did need was to go to the store, and my tiny suv was blocked in by First’s truck, so I took IO’s truck. When I came back, I noticed a bag of clothing and a pair of tennis shoes in the back of First’s truck. I went in the house, got some scissors, pulled two tee shirts and a pair of jeans from the bag, cut holes in them, then cut up the shoes, and threw the whole mess out in the street at the end of the driveway.  As I passed by his  truck again on the way to the house, I saw a folder lying on the front seat. And the windows were down. Cold-hearted? You bet. I’m fighting for my peace of mind, for the sanctuary of my home and some semblance of a normal, decent life. I’m angry that he can simply march into my life and take center stage in the demise of a 19-year relationship. But he’s that kind of guy. He always has to be the center of attention.

I took the folder in the house, and sat down at the computer to add the minutes to my phone. But I’d spent $40 on the wrong brand of minutes and needed to return to the store for a refund. When I got outside, the Pen Pals and IO were out by the trucks when I went to leave. First Pal was fuming and wanted to know where his folder was.  And I wasn’t going to give it up because if they don’t care how I feel, then I don’t care how they feel, either. I asked him how many times I’ve told him that I don’t want him here. And still, he didn’t care. So fine. You take something valuable of mine; you pay with something valuable of yours.

I’m so fed up with being a doormat. The punk kid across the street got away with kidnapping my cat. My job feels like the inspiration for the idiom, “If I had sex as often as I get screwed, I’d be really happy.”  And IO walks all over me because he controls the money.

I went to get in IO’s truck, and he raced over and slammed the door shut and stood in front of it. So I got in my little suv. I told First Pal to move his truck because he had me blocked in. IO assumed I would back around his truck, shoot up an incline, and cut through the neighbor’s yard, so he positioned himself in a spot to prevent it. I got my suv started, and looked behind me. First Pal had not moved from the spot he was in. I told him again to move, and he didn’t, so I backed up. It didn’t hurt the suv, and his truck is already a bunch of dents held together with rust. But he finally got in and moved it.

Don’t ever make the mistake of buying the wrong phone minutes. They will not refund your money. They tell you this on the receipt, after they have your moolah. It was the least of my worries. I sat there for a while, numb, wondering what to do now. And I decided to do what a guy would do: have a drink. Only one, because I didn’t need any more problems. And then I went home.

Everything was relatively quiet. Too quiet, now that I think about it. I sat at the computer, reading a news bit about a family of five forced by the police to get out of their car and lie on the ground in a case of mistaken identity. That’s as far as I got because I heard my name being called. I ignored it the first time. I didn’t recognize the voice, and thought Third Pal had come into the house. Then I heard it again, and it told me to “come out here.” I still thought it was Third, and said, “no.”  That’s when a voice said, “It’s the police,” and one appeared at my office door.

They patted me down and handcuffed me (those things hurt, especially if you have carpal tunnel), and took me out to one of their cars. They asked me where the folder was, and I asked them if I was under arrest.  Bad Cop said no, but then yelled at me, “Where’s the folder!!?” I told him I needed to speak to a lawyer. He closed the door on me. The neighbor across the street, the one whose yard looks like a cemetery, came over then, because the cops can never come into the neighborhood without him becoming involved. Maybe he gets a thrill out them coming to someone’s house besides his for a change.

Bad Cop had First Pal sign something, the complaint, probably, then had IO sign it. A third cop came onto the scene because it takes three men to arrest one old lady, and he spent several minutes admiring the endless tattoos that cover First Pal’s arms. Then First Pal pulled up his pant legs, and raised his shirt so Good Cop could ooh and aah over each one. I couldn’t hear because the window was up, but I can read lips. Good Cop asked where he got them, and First Pal shrugged and laughed, and answered “in prison.” And it never gave the cop a moment’s pause. They all said their goodbyes like old buddies, and shook hands.

Then Bad Cop got in the car and said, yes, that now I was under arrest for domestic violence and disturbing the peace.  No one at any step read me my rights. They don’t have to do that anymore?

I have gathered from movies that they always transfer you. They make it seem as if they do it just to thwart anyone’s attempts to find you and bail you out, but that’s not true. First they take you to their station while they write their reports, which take a very long time. But here, you find out that Bad Cop isn’t really that bad. Now that he’s got me, he’s being pretty decent. This is when they transfer you to the real jail, a few miles away, in the county seat.

Real jail is where they take your mug shot and fingerprint you. This is where you get your one phone call, and you better know who it will be, because they don’t tell you that the call can be to the bail bondsman across the street. They’re not going to provide you with information or a phone book.

I couldn’t call anyone because I have no one to call. I have no family here. Of the three people I think would come help me, all three numbers are in my phone, which I didn’t have with me. What are their numbers? I don’t know; they’re in my phone.  They tell you that if you can’t get bailed out that you’ll be there until your court appearance next week.

It’s cold and over-crowded, with only a fraction of the beds it needs. I was assigned a place on the floor and given two blankets. Some of those girls in there look so sweet and innocent that I couldn’t imagine what they could have done. Did they forget to pick up their toys or put away their bikes?

To my surprise, I was bailed out very quickly. I barely had time to turn around in there. I couldn’t imagine who…turns out it was Insignificant Other, and I wasn’t supposed to have any contact with him, so I still needed a ride to…somewhere.

While I waited, I had plenty of time to chat with the bail bondswoman. IO told her he didn’t realize he was getting me arrested. She pointed out the lie to me. She knew that First Pal had originally called the police, but they couldn’t do anything about it because he doesn’t live here. The complaint had to be made by a resident, so my Insignificant Other chose his friend over me, once again. Our 19th anniversary is in two days.


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