Settled

We had a mandatory mediation date set. It was last Thursday. Bill and I had had a couple of counter-offers, and we were very far apart. In fact, Bill had not modified his first counter offer. Not at all. It was as if he hadn't heard what I was offering and didn't care about what everything was worth. Driving to the appointment, I saw myself as wasting my day in the mediation. Why bother? He wasn't budging on his demands. The mediator was a well-heeled older woman. She had the dignified and aristocratic look of one born into money and innately high IQ's. She wore a simple, dignified pant suit, a female version of a navy blue Brooks Brothers. She brought us all into a glass conference room and explained what she was hoping to do. She would set the rules. She would work with us for two hours. We were to make offers in good faith and, if we reached a settlement, whatever we agreed to would be irrevocable. She also explained she had practiced family law for 35 years before deciding mediation was a better way to end marriages. She then dismissed us all, except for my attorney, with whom she wanted to meet first. Bill, his attorney, and I were to wait in the large waiting room. Bill and his counsel conferred for a few minutes and then Bill moseyed right on over to where I was and started chatting. "How do you like that Kindle?" "It's an old iPad and I like it a lot. I got it through work." "How's Laura?" "She's miserable." "Did Kyle finish his course?" "No." "No?" "No." "Why not?" "He got sick." "He got sick?" "Yes, he got sick." "Does he have a job?" "Laura is the biggest pregnant woman I have ever seen. The baby is going to be huge." "Is she well?" "As well as can be. She's ready to not be pregnant anymore. This kid is going to be Baby Sasqwatch." "I sure hope we can make a settlement today." "I hope so too, Bill, but you've got to be willing to compromise, and so far you've haven't been willing. I spent a lot of money on a forensic accountant and you have ignored her work." "Well, I don't trust her calculations. My attorney and I are thinking of hiring our own person." "Go right ahead." "It would be a shame to have to go to trial. This has already cost you over $60,000 and going to trial could take it up to $100,000." "Well, if we have to go to trial, then we will. It's okay with me." My attorney and I had met and decided that our game plan was to let them know we were not afraid of going to trial. There was a part of me that would rather have given the money to a court and lawyers than to put it in Bill's hands. "How's your gambling going?" "Oh, I haven't gambled five times this year." "Why not?" "No money." "You chose gambling, Bill." "What?" "We're getting this divorce because you chose gambling over protecting me." "I didn't know that. If you had asked me to stop gambling, I would have." And with the sweetest look on his face, my ex-husband stood there and lied to me. It was at that point I realized I had been terribly wrong in my estimations of him. Throughout our marriage, I thought the particular look he had, this relaxed and sweet face, was the face of Bill when he would never lie to me. This time, wwwaaaaayyyy too late, I discovered that Bill doesn't have a sweet, honest side. Like his old girlfriend said, Bill is a liar. He stood there in the waiting area, casually leaning against the receptionist's counter, talking like a nice guy, and lying like crazy. If I had asked him to stop gambling, he would have??? Who is he kidding? Does he also have a bridge he wants to sell me? My attorney came out. Bill's attorney was asked in. Bill left me alone. My attorney and I went outside so he could talk to me about what the mediator had said. She told him our stuff was really good, that our offer had made sense, and that she hadn't even needed a mediation brief because the numbers in our settlement offer were so well-prepared. My attorney had given her another offer to present to Bill. When Bill's attorney came out, she took him and Bill down the hall to a meeting room to consider what they had discussed. After fifteen minutes or so, Bill and his attorney went into the conference room. They stayed for a long time. She seemed to be talking to Bill a lot. Then she came out with an offer. We had to go back and forth a little bit, but, in the end, we reached an agreement. And this is what it is: I have to pay him $3250 a month spousal support until he dies. That's going to be tough. I have to pay him $125,000 by October 1 of this year. That's going to be really tough. I have to put him on as the primary beneficiary on my life insurance policy. In return, I get the house and all of my retirement. I get to keep my restraining order. In addition, the spousal support is non-modifiable and, no matter where I go or how much money I ever make in the future, he can never come back and try to get more money from me. When he dies, Laura will be the beneficiary on my life insurance again and he will make me the executor of his estate. (Believe me, it will be a huge headache and I have no expectation that there will be any money when he goes.) Since we made that settlement, I have felt not only a tremendous sense of relief but like a different person. I feel completely different. I knew I would, I just didn't know in what way. My life is going to be my own now, and it gives me great peace. I feel solid and ready to move on. I know I can take care of myself, and it feels good.

Counter with That Sense of Entitlement

I received a counter offer for the offer I made Bill. It is strikingly reminiscent of the interactions that went on between Bill and his sister as they settled their parents' estate. Bill waited for her to lead off, then countered with a suckerpunch. He wanted to see how much she'd offer. He told me that much. But in the end, it didn't matter what she came up with, he knew what he was going to do. His response to my offer sounded much the same. He countered with a ridiculous demand. Why did I pay all that money to a forensic accountant to carefully go over the values of the house, the retirement and the tax sheltered annuity when he was just going to respond with a demand that reflected how much money he wants for himself? It doesn't really have to do with what things are really worth. Bill just basically said he wants a one-time lump sum of $165,000 and $4500 a month until he dies. He wants to be the beneficiary on my life insurance policy, he wants the restraining order lifted, and he wants to be able to go to the police station and pick up his guns. It's all outrageous to me. And then, in the end, he said that if I didn't acquiesce to his demands, he would get a QDRO and have the retirement system give him the cash value of what he is due. My attorney said he has some ideas for a response. I can't wait to hear what they are.