Girl on the Brink: Surviving Desperate Times with Desperate Measures

It never ceases to amaze me how many parallels exist between your love life and work life.

Take, for instance, when you come back very late from lunch. You darn well hope that a co-worker doesn’t say something, or your boss catches you.

That shameful and uneasy feeling as you sneak in is similar to how I think my ex must have felt when he stayed out all night like the cats and then wandered in early the next morning when he thought no one heard him unlock the front door.

I did (snicker, snicker) but didn’t say anything. Even though I live with my ex, what he does when he’s with a woman is his business as mine should be when I’m out with a man. After all, our divorce is final, relationship kaput. Our current and unfortunate living arrangement stems from both of us losing our jobs before Thanksgiving and not being able to afford separate living quarters.

Having two kids, a 10 and 11 year old, compound the problem, because they need stability in their lives. Believe me, if I could escape I would borrow the signature catch phrase of the cartoon mountain lion character Snagglepuss and “exit, stage right!”

My ex plays the role of the childish boss, locking me out of the house when I go out on a date. He purposely locks the top lock to the front door because it sticks. The lock shares the same key as the bottom lock, but I can’t get it to open, no matter how much I jiggle it.

That happened when I came home from a date on the 4th of July. But I didn’t want to step into his trap. If I knocked for help, he’d bound down the stairs and let me in, just so he could see what I was wearing and glare at me.

I’m a pretty feisty gal and walked around the side of the house to the alley and climbed through a hole in the fence to enter through the kitchen door, which was also locked. I knew I could open that door because the lock doesn’t stick.

He’s such a jerk for doing that because I have arthritis in my hip and had to force my body up about 4 feet to gain access to the back porch. Now, he’s giving me the silent treatment, sort of like a boss who doesn’t like you.

I have been living with my ex since January, and you don’t need to tell me I need to get out. Nothing could be more unhealthy for the mind, especially when your ex lusts after you like mine does. He has a graphic imagination about my first-date activities, and he lets his thoughts rule him. How unfortunate.

At least when you’ve come back late from lunch at work, you don’t have to scale a fence to get back in.