"Divorce."
To begin with, I have to give you statistics. How many divorced women are there in the world? The same number as married people. Can you imagine?
Depending on the country, the percentage of divorces varies, somewhere around eighty, somewhere around ten, but the average is fifty.
I don’t know about you, but news like this used to make my hair stand on end.
Now I’m already calmer about this, no one has to be chained to an oath or a promise before God with a spouse who has gone crazy, or you suddenly realized that your roof has come into place. Divorces give you freedom and help you breathe deeper.
But at the same time, it seems to me, they discourage already irresponsible young people. Women and men who have just graduated from university get married, give birth to children, and only then realize that this is not the life they actually dreamed of.
Why irresponsible and not stupid? Because such a large number (let me remind you, half) cannot be stupid, but it’s easy to be irresponsible.
They give up at the slightest difficulty and fail to cope with barriers.
Now, if I were in their place, I would also easily get married without hesitation. Then you can always get a divorce. Yes, perhaps with a doll, but it’s possible.
The point here is different, to what extent I answer to myself that I will get out, survive, cope physically, morally, financially with the divorce. Will I be able to raise my children alone without child support? Will I earn enough to not depend on my parents or the state, have everything I need and achieve self-realization?
Will I be able not to cry and not be depressed because of the loss of love, will I not be lost as a person?
Do you see? If you are sure of this, if you yourself are full-fledged, then divorce is not scary. Moreover, there will most likely not be a divorce.
So this is what happened to me. Of course, I’m no better than any of you, I’m one hundred percent the same.
Do you want hysterics? On those please.
Nag your husband? Get it.
Manipulate sex: “Oh, I’m tired, dear” (and the connection is obvious, because there was a quarrel today)? How many you want.
And you know, like this.
Let yourself go, look at home as if I live alone. As a feminist, so one hundred percent. If they were watching me (there would be such a small camera in the house in a pot of flowers, which I never had until the last couple of years), then someone on the other end would die of laughter at the eccentric face of an indeterminate gender in a robe, gloomy, stooped, always chewing something, sniffing his armpits, itching, it’s even indecent to say where. And all this in the presence of a very specific man, who only occasionally shows his Australopithecus nature.
And this whole ensemble accompanied the music of the funeral march for our marriage.
I was at the peak of my individuality, I wanted to be “as I am,” they say, “love me like a natural phenomenon.”
And my beloved endured and endured until his patience boiled over.
Our scandals were especially wonderful. They could be savored for hours, with breaks for tea.
– I need money for training.
– Where? Did you earn a lot last week?
– Why only me? You earn money too!
– Yes. In the same company. I manage your work, and just like you, I didn’t receive any money.
– It’s not true, you and your partners have dividends. You're not paying me. I say wife, I’ll get over it.
– Become a partner. I even said “how,” but you still don’t want to listen to me.
– I can't find twenty representatives. It's difficult! – I start screaming. Him too.
– So it means that you just haven’t grown up to be a partner.
– You're always like that. Why devalue me? You don’t value my books either. You consider me mediocrity. Another husband would have supported and helped promote it a long time ago.
–What to promote? I'm not interested in your books.
– Here you see! I'm basically not interesting to you.
– But why? I'm just not your target audience.
– But you might admire them in principle as a reader. You didn’t write that either.
– I am! Because he's busy with more important things, in case you haven't noticed! – he screams, I start to cry. Just a little bit, but your eyes get wet. “And there’s no need to arouse my pity now.” This is unfair. Stop whining.
– I'm not whining. – I gather my will into a fist. “I just needed our common money, by the way.”
– Oh, general? There are no common ones. Take yours.
– Mine are over.
– I won’t give you mine.
Here you might think that my husband is a tyrant, stingy and generally cruel person. But never judge until you have all the information.
– Their? Their? You earn three times more than me! I have to beg you constantly.
– You went nuts! I give you everything. Look. Wake up. Look around – I give everything to you. Count how much money we have spent on you over the past months and years. By giving. Open your notebook and do the math.
– I won't.
– Why?
– Because it’s still not fair that you earn more than me. I'm no worse, I'm just as smart and capable.
– Is it true? And you studied as much as I did? Do you have the same experience under your belt? You can't even read the book I gave you! – pokes me with a sales book.
– I don’t want to read it, I make high sales even without it. Yes, not this week, but I did it! It’s me who gives you and me income. Thanks to me you earn money.
– Who taught you this? Whose company do you work for?
– You're just a brute! – Go to hell!
That's all. Here my arguments end, I give up. It was true that he started a business that I didn’t really believe in. He is right. But, as always happens in quarrels, the weaker side never admits its guilt, so it throws a grenade as an insult. In response, a larger projectile arrives with a decision to stop the conversation and further communication in general.
We went to different rooms, fortunately, there were two of them and a kitchen, we went to the office separately, sat there in different offices, trying not to provoke ourselves into quarrels.
When we saw each other, we talked about neutral things, but did not apologize.
By August, three months after our wedding, we no longer loved each other. I dreamed of living alone; it would be best to go to Moscow. He made it happen.
One day, at the end of summer, the following conversation ensued between us:
– You know, I need money. (I was really in despair then, I really wanted to learn and couldn’t imagine life without this training. It seemed to me that it would solve all my problems once and for all).
– Understand. I do not have them. (I still didn’t understand the situation the company was in; it was drowning in debt, and my husband didn’t talk about it. He didn’t want to admit it to himself).
– Then I’ll go to work for Nikolai. We will go on tours with him together and earn only our own expenses, without the costs of a large group.
– You know that I consider Nikolai an enemy? – Vladislav narrowed his eyes and this suspicion coupled with hatred alerted me. Apparently I said something wrong.
– Um. You just said that you would separate peacefully, that you would give him Riga and a couple of other cities, perhaps so that he too could survive. Why all this concern if he is the enemy?
– Cities, yes, but a wife?
– I’m not going to go to him as a man. This is work. I need income to pay for the courses.
– It's clear. And I’m no longer important to you, that means.
– Important. But it's just work.
– It's not just a job.
He left, slamming the door. Much later, I found out that that day he almost drove into the oncoming lane, he was in so much pain.
And I, in complete naivety, did not understand the whole drama of his soul. I didn’t feel the same way as he did the betrayal of his partner. I didn’t see Nikolai as an enemy. At most, an extremely unpleasant personality, but on the whole tolerable to work with.
In the evening, my husband returned to get his things and said he would go to a friend in Moscow for a couple of days.
No signs of trouble. I lived my life, only occasionally thinking about the fact that he rarely writes, does not call, and suspiciously disappeared from the radar.
And so it happened, he disappeared. In Moscow, he decided to leave me.
On the thirtieth of August, around midnight, he returned to say:
– I'm leaving.
– Not at all?
– For a while, but perhaps forever.
I start crying, holding myself back, because he doesn’t like it.
– Let's talk.
– Don't want. A lot has already been said. And they came to nothing. I decided. This is one hundred percent. I begin to rush around the kitchen, slowly but surely, like a German soldier. I'm covered in red spots, I breathe deeply so as not to panic. He softens a little and tries to calm me down, although he stays away – I’m not going anywhere, I’m not dying, I’m not moving to another planet. I'm still right there. It's just that as a couple we can't be together anymore. We torture each other.
And he was right, but then I was greatly annoyed. I was wildly offended that it was not me who decided, but he. Do you understand? This is women's grief. We cry not because our loved one has left, but because we were abandoned, not us.
It is only later, in order not to admit this to ourselves, that we begin to look for excuses and come to the conclusion that, in fact, our beloved was a wonderful person, and there is no one better than him, and we should try to get him back.
No, to just spit and go your own way. No, this is exactly what we need. Even then I thought: “What if he takes all the money, the car, the company. And such a “beautiful” one will quickly find himself some clever girl, with whom the two of them will chirp over the fool Margarita, the greedy witch, who rightly was left alone and with nothing. And now she will be a lonely, harmful lady for a long time, because we will give her a reputation as a bad wife.”
– Stay at home for the night, we’ll discuss everything in the morning.
– No. I pack my things and leave.
– But you still love me.
– No more.
At this point I completely gave up. “Let him go,” I said to myself, but not to him (in case I killed the last chance for a reunion).
I didn't sleep a wink that night. I drank hot tea to warm myself from the inside, the lump didn’t get into my throat, just drinking. I didn’t need alcohol, nor did I need cigarettes.
I turned on the wonderful, uplifting film “Elizabethtown” and watched it with breaks to cry all night. I also did this interesting thing.
Girls, remember, just in case. When your soul hurts and you think that there is no way out, then take clean sheets of paper and a pen.
And start writing out all your secret misdeeds and mistakes, sins, whatever you want to call them.
Write what kind of offense it is. And then specifically WHEN? WHERE? WHAT HAPPENED? HOW EXACTLY? And don’t even allow the possibility of justifying it. Neither on paper nor in your thoughts do you allow yourself to transfer at least part of the responsibility to someone else in this incident and remove it from yourself.
Write the whole truth and only from the position of what harm you have caused.
At first it will seem to you that you are saints. This will pass.
You'll think, “Hmm. Yes, I threw the waist into that guy’s soup, but it’s his own fault. Even if he later went bald, he no longer cheats on his wife.” Do you understand?
Or “I had to spank that brat, otherwise he would have ruined my garden.”
Do you see?
This way you will never alleviate your condition. Only by returning responsibility to yourself, by becoming the cause, will you regain control and power, and with them your fighting spirit.
I regained my fighting spirit. By morning I was already at the parade.
I hardly cried in those first two weeks. Yes, I still didn’t sleep well at night, but every day I called my husband with an offer to talk. She was refused and lived again as usual.
I already clearly understood what I was doing wrong and where I needed to remain silent. I have become smarter and more cunning. I stopped thinking that I should live alone, because Vladislav, in general, is the same one behind whose back I am like behind a stone wall.
Money for education came into the background, because in fact, life itself taught me a lesson. The training took place at an expensive price, but not in the place where I thought.
The only problem was the apartment, which became unaffordable for me, so I moved in with friends and rented a bed from them for a couple of months.
Of course, then I lit a cigarette and reduced the amount of food I ate three times, it did me good, my waist became aspen, and I had enough energy to start writing new books.
That's what was painful. Yes, dear, I’ll remind you of something now, but don’t worry about it. All in the past.
My husband, girls, forgot for a while that he is a gentleman, and for some reason decided to pin the move on me. A large two-room rented apartment filled with our things remained with me. There were our common belongings: dishes, clothes, shoes, office supplies, decorative items.
And one fine day I gathered my strength and went there all alone. Just me and the empty haven of two broken hearts.
I could turn on sad music, touch every thing and cry over it, but I didn’t want to artificially force myself to suffer. I felt pretty good and bravely endured all the training. Four hours later, about twenty boxes were already waiting for the movers in the hallway. I drank my last tea in this apartment and sighed sadly and said to myself. “Yes, it was a great time, it was a terrible time.”
And then I smiled, because I didn’t like this apartment, the entrance, the area. Despite the pretentiousness of the decoration, the neighbor's cockroaches scurried around here a couple of times (apparently they got lost), and my neighbor, a drug addict, gave me a persistent feeling of disgust for this area as a whole.
In a way, the goal was achieved, the poor housing was abandoned, I achieved my goal.
“Was it worth it? Wait and see".
By the way, we now have a wonderful, bright, spacious apartment in a new building.
Well, okay, I took all this to the office, hoping not to meet the boss (part-time husband) and not solve the problem that had arisen. However, luck turned away from me and Vladislav decided to stay late at work.
– What are you doing here?
– Translating our things. I have nowhere else to put them except in your office.
– It’s all over, then? Did you refuse the apartment? – There was annoyance in his voice, but I didn’t understand why. It's very strange, as if he was hoping to return.
– Why should I take it off? I don't earn that much.
– OK. Just let the movers put everything in a corner so that the boxes don’t get in the way.
You know, he didn’t even help carry the boxes, and I carried, admittedly, light things, but I wore them so as not to overpay for the guys’ hours of work. I paid for it myself, of course.
My husband corrected this point a long time ago, now he is a true gentleman (I love this word, editor), I feel like a real lady next to me. But then! Then I tried to close my eyes to my anger, otherwise I would not have had the persistence for the next month and a half to achieve his return.
There was one more thing that I recommend using as another way to combat mental suffering. Perhaps this will also be useful to you if you find yourself in a similar situation.
Fanfare, light, ta-dam!
I flew to London for a major event.
It's my birthday at the beginning of October and the annual event in Sussex is happening at the perfect time. All patrons and voluntary contributors of money or time to charity gather there. All the really educational programs in third world countries, fighting drug trafficking, helping with illnesses and injuries during natural disasters and many other really important things are done by these people. Some people invest maximum money, others give their whole lives to this for free.
And of course, they need a large team, so they invite newcomers there for a purely symbolic sum, those who, like me, for example, have invested a little, about ten thousand dollars in total. At such an event, people are encouraged, given confirmation, helped not to give up, not to leave the path of help, and new arrivals are instilled with self-confidence and told how they can personally help.
I bought plane tickets, an entrance ticket, paid for a hotel and a visa for only sixty thousand rubles. These are mere pennies, just two average deferred salaries, and you are already in a completely different world. I'm not talking about geography, I'm talking about the level of thinking and environment.
On the fifth, with great enthusiasm, I rented a ballgown from a friend and rushed to the airport. Did I grieve for my husband then? Not for a second. Okay, just a little bit. Only occasionally did I allow myself to become sad, thinking about the inevitability of divorce.
The rest of the time I dreamed of meeting Tom Cruise, who, by the way, had previously appeared at such holidays.
Girls, you might laugh at my ambition, but I even thought that since he is not married, we might have an affair.
God! May my husband forgive me. By the way, I told him about this. But the dreams of a naive girl are not the same thing as reality. Although they never harmed me. Don't listen to people who tell you not to dream. “You are flying in the clouds, it’s time to come down to earth” – this is just the envy of a desperate person who no longer knows how to use his imagination, which means he has closed his own borders to new horizons.
My imagination has never let me down. It may have disappointed me from time to time, but it never let me down. I wouldn’t have what I have now if I weren’t so easy-going, and maybe even frivolous in some ways.
Read “Alice in Wonderland” again, but from the perspective of an adult, and you will see a lot of useful things there.
So, I flew to the UK. At the airport I met my friends who were heading there. We had fun, we laughed all the way. Yes, these were men, two Andreys, but incredibly cheerful and kind. They supported me very well then. The three of us went to all the daytime meetings before the main ball. I felt supported, as if we had been friends for a hundred years.
By the way, from the travel section, I would like to note that in October it is very warm in England. I wore a dress without a cape, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, the green grass smelled fresh, and even the occasional light rain did not cool the air temperature. Marvelous. I fell in love with this place. It was just after that trip, by the way, that I wrote “Alone. The story of a man who fell in love with a witch." England inspired me to write about it.
The ball itself was great. The waiters are of the highest level, everything is clear, all commands are on the radio. Non-alcoholic wine that can easily be confused with the usual one. The dessert – a broken chocolate pot with biscuit moss – surprised me, who was not yet experienced in such things. On stage they congratulated outstanding personalities in charity, and in the end everyone danced near the stage to contemporary performers of the same crowd.
Sober, happy, no madness, everything is laconic and moderately restrained in the British way. It’s just cozy and warm surrounded by strangers, but such kind people.
I was returning to the hotel with a friend who lived in the same place as me. We exchanged a few words. She was also on the verge of divorce, but on her initiative. The girl is very light and seems to be unencumbered by anything. And so it turned out. By a lucky chance, she inherited three apartments in St. Petersburg, and there was no shortage of money.
That's when I started thinking. What if I were also financially independent, would I try so hard to get my husband back? Or she blessed him with a new wife, and she moved on to realize her dreams. Would you think about the reputation of a bad wife, and the absence of a new partner for a long time, or not?
I probably wouldn't care. If not for one thing, I still loved my husband.
Then the obsession with saving the marriage in any way left me. I calmed down. Like a breath of fresh air, I realized self-love. I just needed to borrow money from somewhere and reach a new level of income in order to repay the debt and fully provide for my existence, without relying on anyone.
The next day we flew home.
By the way, we also had time to walk around London before departure. The impressions were only positive: Buckingham Palace and Big Ben made me fall in love with London, and these are not all of its attractions, which, unfortunately, we did not have time to visit.
Returning to Russia, I began to write a lot. Work and write again.
The fact that I made a list of all the pros and cons of reuniting with my husband also added to my self-confidence. For the first time in this time, I approached the situation logically.
Having seen eighteen minuses and twenty pluses, the choice became obvious.
The strategy turned out to be simple. “Men love with their eyes” and “Men hate hysterics.” That is, it was necessary to do two things: buy moderately sexy, but elegant clothes and start communicating with Vladislav quite boldly, without a drop of offense, and also not react to a single remark, criticism or insult on his part.
Like a real soldier, a well-trained fighter, I began to make pilgrimages to his office.
Three times a day, in the morning before the meeting, at lunch and in the evening after work, we smoked through his window and talked.
I was incredibly pretty, modest and pliable.
He could tell me things like: “I don’t love you anymore and I’m unlikely to ever love you again,” “I intend to get a divorce, you should give me a divorce,” “it’s all your fault, it’s you who brought me to this decision.” “,” “you are frigid,” “you allowed yourself to be unkempt at home,” “you constantly reminded me of ex-men, which hurt my male pride,” “you betrayed me by choosing to work with Nikolai,” “you are greedy, mercantile, corrupt.” young woman". You know, he doesn't think that way anymore. And not only because I changed, but because I wasn’t like that before, and he was simply wildly offended.
And it’s good that I understood this and didn’t take a single word seriously.
Another great advantage was his calmness and willingness to communicate. All October I was engaged in a strategic and systematic capture of his heart. In fact, I fell in love with myself all over again. Since I had no competitors, I was the only one who flashed before his eyes, so beautiful and sexy. Even if he wanted to find a replacement for me, it wasn’t easy, because he didn’t go anywhere except work, and there were only girls he didn’t know online. He understood that upon closer examination (communication) with these girls, in five years the same picture could begin, the same hysterics and bed problems. At forty years old, he was tired of this, and was not particularly eager to look for someone right now.
Although there was one woman, his partner, ten years older, attractive, divorced and terribly interested in Vladislav.
She probably wanted to take my place, but her dignity and some decency kept her from doing anything until we divorced. I saw her readiness, like a greyhound at the start of a fox hunt, but it was only an intention, not an attempt, for which I am grateful to her.
You know, I even once sent him a photo of our future children, taken in a special application, you know, for stupid women who suffer from nonsense. To which he only complained that I was really suffering from nonsense.
Then she invited me to go horseback riding, such a romantic walk outside the city. He said that he doesn’t like horses, they stink (this is not true, he had horses as a child, he just wanted to ruin my mood).
But I didn't give up.
I invited him to have lunch at a cafe, confessed my love, and said that I was ready to correct everything he said that would be required for the reunion.
He was silent.
I finished off:
– In the end, let's break it off completely. And we won’t get back together, we’ll just start again. Like completely different people. It's like we just met. Let's not continue, but finish and begin.
– It won’t work, it’s still too fresh in my memory.
"Oh my God!" – I thought – “What's fresh? Treason? So she wasn't there? Well, I didn’t want to work with you, and that’s it, the end of the world. You’re so vulnerable, it couldn’t be funnier.” – But she said it out loud.-
– Sorry. Forgive me please. How many more times do I have to apologize for you to forgive? I know myself, this will not happen again. I assure you, we can handle it, we can do it. Moreover, I know that you love me too. Just don't resist.
– I do not like.
– Okay, but you will love me, otherwise you wouldn’t allow me to make all these attempts.
“Make raids,” I would say. I literally attacked him, did not let him breathe in the wrong direction.
But I remembered one more trick.
I've been wondering all these weeks. A useful thing by the way, I tell you. I selected a number of objects in the environment and asked a question like “will we be together,” then I counted the windows on the house. An even number meant “no,” an odd number meant “yes.” Nine. Yeah. We will. This gave me confidence. But sometimes there were mistakes, and an even number came across; I did not accept a negative answer. Therefore, I reformulated the question and asked again until I received a positive answer.
This is wildly funny. You don't seem to believe in it, but you do it because it works.
And it’s not scary if it doesn’t work, because you yourself came up with this fortune telling and you can change the rules. So you keep guessing again until the universe itself agrees with you. And the closer time went to the end of October, the more positive responses I received. I think my eye learned before me to determine compositions of things or symbols with an odd number and gave them to me for fortune telling. And I perceived these as signs of fate.
Very funny and ridiculous, but it worked for me.
And finally, on the eve of Halloween, I asked my friend and part-time colleague if I should ask for sex with Vladislav, in case it would reunite us.
– Never. He will just get his and you will even lose what you have, you will stop communicating for a while. Now he allows you to be around so much because he wants to. And then there will be no hormones that contribute to this.
– And what to do?
– Wait. If he offers, refuse. Until you get back together, until he confesses his love again, do not allow intimacy. I tell you as a man, his hormones are now on your side. Use it.
– Fine. – I answered gloomily, but I didn’t like the answer.
What to expect? He will never give birth, it seems. And it can drop hormones into the palm of your hand. Oh, sorry, I haven’t expressed myself so rudely in a long time. What is it, am I wrong?
It was necessary to come up with a way to make him want me, and not masturbation, and as early as possible in order to achieve a positive resolution.
I went to his office. And as she was leaving, as if by chance, she said:
– I dream about the day when we will go to intimate boutiques and choose a negligee for me.
He grinned.
Do you know what happened in the evening?
He called. Myself. Yeah. Can you imagine?
– Come to me today.
– And what will we do?
– Let's see.
– I can't just have sex with you. It wouldn't be fair to me. I am not ready to enter into an intimate relationship without emotional intimacy.
– Okay, I understand. I will think.
It was about six in the evening. I almost jumped with happiness right in the middle of the street. But I stopped short, because it’s too early to drink Borjomi, or something like that.
A couple of hours later he called back.
– Fine. Let's get together. But with a condition.
– Which one.
– If nothing works out for us and we quarrel again, everything will repeat itself as before, then we will separate amicably, as friends, you will calmly give me a divorce and will not hold me back, there will be no tears and accusations.
– Yes, sure.
I easily agreed to this, because after writing out all my misdeeds, looking at them directly, I was sure that this would not happen again.
Are you really interested in my sins? That's it. This is personal, although in my opinion I have already laid everything out in front of you. I have nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, I masturbated in front of my husband, hiding it from him. I faked an orgasm during sex. I didn’t finish cooking the meat almost thirty percent of the time, and I didn’t put my soul into cooking (which is why the food, let me tell you, turned out like stew in a prison). She criticized, gossiped, and was greedy. She sawed and devalued. I was lazy at work and didn’t achieve results when they were counting on me. All these things seem normal until they destroy you and your marriage.
Show me that family where all this is there and they are happy together, I will put on pince-nez and investigate their life so meticulously that I will definitely find skeletons in the closet, even if they are not the same as mine.
Do you know, for example, that a woman is responsible for fertility? That is, if a couple does not want children, but the woman still gets pregnant, and he seems to be happy, then this still places a burden on the woman’s soul.
My friend gave birth to five children, and her husband drinks like hell. They don’t even have enough money for themselves, and even more so for their children. They didn’t plan to give birth right away, they wanted to live for themselves, but he forgot about contraception, and she didn’t take the responsibility that it was she who would bear this burden later. And so it happened, she is unhappy, she has to beg, and people think her husband is bad. She protects him with all her might. And rightly so. He could have been smarter by having sex without a condom, but she should have stopped him and “dressed him up” at the right moment.
She should have made sure that conception was a mutual decision. I don’t blame her and I don’t recommend it to you. She understands everything so much. Therefore, if you see a broken marriage, where everything was sacred and no one oversalted the potatoes, then look at the area of children.