So before Christmas we had decided to split up. That meant for one, he had time to look for a new apartment (starting in December) and second, it was time to talk about how we would handle this.
I honestly had the plan to settle this civilized and I the most inexpensive way possible but I was adamant on getting something in writing at the end. I wanted it black and white when and how he would see his daughter and yes, how much money we would get for the time of the separation. I already had two jobs at that time but I absolutely needed to know how much money I would have in the end to provide our living. First of all I had to somehow pay the rent and make sure we were able to stay in our apartment until I would find something new.
Okay, so… the cheapest way to get separated is to take one lawyer and work it out. When you do that it is not officially called a lawyer but a mediator. The outcome should be a settlement you broadly discussed and both parties find satisfying or can live with. We started the mediation I had organized, of course, as soon as possible. After the second time he told me that he did not need a mediation. I don’t want to quote him here because I really do not remember his exact words but the way he said it gave me the feeling that the word „mediation“ gave him the impression that this was some kind of therapy or that the mediator was trying to help us settle our differences. I think he did not fully grasp that just because it had this unoffending label it was supposed to have the same outcome.
I told him that I needed it and that I needed something in writing in the end, that was my goal and that’s why I wanted to go there. So he went along again. On our third appointment he sat there like a 5 year old who wasn’t allowed to watch TV. Scowling, not talking much, arms crossed in one word radiating reluctance. A few days later shit finally hit the fan. It started with Mr. M. en passant telling me that he wanted to take his daughter to his parents the next Easter. I told him that was fine – have a nice trip. The next statement was that he also interned to take her on Christmas. (Ahhhhhh…..no!) What I said to him was, that I would definitely not fully agree to that and that I wont’t be told things like that just in passing.
Then, right there, he finally spoke what was really on his mind and practically declared war. He told me: „Oh, I am going to tell you many more things“ with a smug fucking shit eating smile on his face. That was the second I knew this was going downhill.
I told him: „Well, if you think like that I am calling a lawyer.“
That’s when he fully showed his face: „When you do that, I am going to claim the last ten years of our tax-payment back“ (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) So that was what his real problem was!!!!! His real problem his very first thing that bothered him was that he had payed our taxes during our marriage!!!!!! ( I am aware the threat was bullshit but that doesn’t matter – it showed what was behind the mask)
In addition he threatened that the very day he was moving out he was not going to pay a cent. He went to my lawyer the following day.