Divorce in May: He Walked Out for Someone ‘Younger and More Beautiful’ and Slammed the Door Behind Him

Divorce in May: He Left for Someone Younger and Prettier and Slammed the Door

I divorced my husband in May. He walked out, slamming the door, for someone younger and prettier. But thats just a detail now.

My husband was ordinary. Before marriage, he seemed attentive and sweet, full of romantic clichés. Afterward, the trial version ended, and the limitations became clear.

Nothing criminal, of course. But there was always a thorn. He began counting penniesalways with a twist.
Yes, he earned, on average, two hundred pounds more than me (our salaries fluctuated, but not much). To him, that made him the provider, while I carried the household on my back. Yet when it came to expenses, he had his own peculiar maths.

If something was for the house, then hed spent it on my behalf.
For the house meant the car with monthly payments of three hundred pounds, which he used to take me to Tesco once a week.
For the house, or rather for me, were the blankets, towels, pots, and the bathroom repairs.

For me were our sons clothes and toys, nursery fees, and doctors visits.
For me was paying the bills because I handled them. If money left my hands, it was my spending.
All of it was for the wife. So, for him, only a few odd pounds remained in the family budget. In his eyesand his familysI was a financial burden. I earned less and spent nearly everything he brought home. He loved asking me mockingly at months end how much was left. Of course, there was never enough.

In the last year of marriage, his favourite line was: We need to cut your expenses. You always want too much. And he did.
At first, we agreed to keep a hundred pounds each for personal spending, with the rest going to shared costs. Then he decided to keep the difference in our salariestwo hundred more for him. Later, he recalculated and slashed another hundred from his contribution. His reasoning? Your shampoo costs five pounds, and I wash my hair with soap.

By the end, I had five hundred pounds a month for groceries, the car payment, and our son. Two hundred from him, three from me. It never stretched far enough.
I stopped saving my hundred and put my whole wagefour hundredinto the house. I survived on occasional bonuses, listening to lectures about how reckless I was, how he was the one supporting me, how hed tighten my belt even more.

Why didnt you leave sooner?

Because I was foolish. I believed him. And his mother. And mine. They convinced me it was all true: he was keeping me afloat, and I was hopeless with money. I wore threadbare clothes, counted every penny, swallowed painkillers, and delayed dentist visits because the NHS waitlist was long and I couldnt afford private care.

Meanwhile, he spent three hundred pounds a month on whims. He boasted about managing his budget while buying new phones, designer trainers, and an absurdly priced subwoofer for the car.

Then we divorced. The great provider flew into the arms of someone who didnt wear second-hand clothes, who went to the gym instead of scraping together meals from leftovers or knitting socks for our son with spare wool.

Of course, I cried. How would I survive without his support, with a child to raise? I braced myself, staring at the future in terror.

Until my pay came in. Or rather, it landed as usualbut this time, there was money left. A lot. Before, Id already maxed out my credit card by payday.

Then the next pay arrived. The balance grew.

I sat down, wiped my tears, and grabbed a sheet. I added it all up. Income and Outgoings. Yes, his salary was goneor rather, the two hundred pounds hed left me (since he always kept three for himself). The car paymentthree hundredwas gone too.

My grocery bill halved. No one complained that chicken wasnt proper meat, demanded pork chops, steak, or heartier soups. No one wrinkled their nose at cheap cheese or asked for beer. Sweets didnt vanish in minutes.

And no one said, Your cakes are rubbish. I want pizza.

I GOT MY TEETH FIXED!!! Goodness, I GOT MY TEETH FIXED!!!

I tossed out the old clothes and bought simple, decent ones. Went to a hairdresser for the first time in five years.

After the divorce, he started sending something for our sonseventy pounds, covering nursery and football club.

At Christmas, he gave me an extra fifty with the note: Buy the boy a proper present, and dont waste it on yourself. I know how you are.

On myself. I laughed. With money in my pocket since the split, Id bought my son everything he wanteda simple telescope, Lego, a kids watch.

With a bonus, I finally redecorated his room. For Christmas, I gave him a massive cage with two guinea pigs and all the accessories.

In December, I accepted a promotionsomething Id never have considered before. When would I have time? Now I do. No need to cook elaborate meals or stockpile food.

Best of all? No one calls me a parasite. No one grates on my nerves. (Well, except his mother, who pops in to see her grandson and photographs everythingthe fridge, our clothes, the flat.)

Now Im on the sofa, eating pineapple, watching my son carefully feed the guinea pigsMum, did I put the food in the right spot?and I feel fine. Without him. Without his money.

And to hell with the cottage I sold to give him half the flats value. Freedom and peace are worth more.

Author unknown.

(The lesson? Sometimes losing what you thought you needed is the first step to finding what you truly deserve.)