The headline read: Internet Lothario charged with grand larceny for swindling women out of $140,000.
For the past seven years, Westchester, New York resident Solomon Jesus Nasser has romanced women on various Internet dating sites. Spinning a tale of intrigue and wealth, he was able to sweet talk a number of women into giving him computers, expensive watches, and cash. He’s facing a minimum of five to fifteen years in prison. As his mug shot flashed on the newscast last week, I realized: hey, I know this guy.
About a year ago, on a lark and the lure of three months for the price of one, I signed up on Chemistry.com, which claims to offer a scientific approach to matchmaking. I slogged through the questionnaire, wrote the required essay, clicked the magic button. And presto: I had seven matches who the company promised would provide me with many “jolly times and hearty laughs.”
I’ve seen it happen on too many occasions to count: ex-partners making demands of their former spouses instead of treating them as the ‘favors’ they truly are. Is their attitude in part caused by ignorance of the law and parenting? Perhaps. Could their demands, in part, be a control tactic? That’s possible too; an attitude of “entitlement” follows many of those who pay child and spousal support.
Nonetheless, ignorance is not an excuse. Nor should controlling behavior be enabled. You teach your ex how to treat you, just as you did during your marriage. With that in mind, here are two real-life scenarios where exes demanded something of their ex-wives. But instead of caving out of guilt / fear, both women consulted a mediator…and their exes were given a wrist-slapping.
Case 1: Paul suddenly decided his ex-wife should drive the kids to his house for evening visits. He demanded this of her, saying it was just as much her responsibility as his; and why should he be the only having to deal with rush-hour traffic?
I’m no divorce expert; there’s no law degree or special accreditation following my name. But now that I’m two years into my divorce, there’s one golden nugget of advice I’d like to pass onto those newly divorcing: Get EVERYTHING down in writing — signed, sealed and wrapped up — otherwise, there’s a good chance you’ll be postponing the inevitable.
There are many valid reasons why we don’t hammer it all down properly right away. We’re grieving, we’re coping, we’re scared, we don’t want our lives to into a nasty episode of Law & Order. We don’t want to expose our kids to any drama or nastiness…and God knows, we don’t want our exes coming after us with fire in their eyes. It all just seems like too much.
He wanted, in no uncertain terms, for me to change my name when we married. I should have known better. It was unspellable (especially for customer service people who were serving me from God knows where), unpronounceable (I introduced him by first name only the first three weeks we dated, because I was afraid I’d mangle it), and my birth name was much less confusing on both counts.
I was established professionally but I wanted him to be happy. So I changed my middle name to my maiden name and stuck his sir-name on the end of my moniker like an unwieldy caboose. But there was another reason I chose to become Mrs. Him; I was over 40 and about to become a member of the married woman’s club for the first time. And so, having my last name followed by a new last name — having, in effect, two last names — made it obvious to the world that I was no longer single and doomed to die alone in an apartment after choking on a ham sandwich. I was married!
My friend has an interesting idea. I don't know if she read this somewhere else or if it's something she came up with on her own, but she thinks that marriage should be a contract that comes up for renewal every few years. For instance, after five years of marriage the couple then decides if they want to renew the marriage contract or if instead they just want to let the contract lapse and then suddenly they aren't married anymore.
No messy divorce, just the ending of a contract.
My first thought was, "Now that's a really great idea!" and then I realized that maybe it's only because of my recently cynical views toward marriage. I think if I was in a truly happy marriage where I envisioned staying with my husband until the day I die, then the idea of a lapsing marriage contract would horrify me. I guess it's kind of like prenuptial agreements in the sense that it simplifies things in case the relationship ends, but it's awfully pessimistic nonetheless.
Could jury duty be the new way to meet a mate? That, and if you want to find a wine opener in your big purse, bring it to a courthouse scanner. These are the two topics in my blog today.
I was called for jury duty this week. Not the most convenient time to be pulled away from earning money, but then when is jury duty ever convenient?
News that a couple actually met and married after serving jury duty together was obviously meant to inspire the singles who arrived for jury duty last week at The Westchester County Court House in White Plains, NY. Got my attention.
Judge Francis Nicolai, who addressed us all in the big jury arrival room, should seriously think of doing stand-up. He’s heard every excuse in the book about why people need to get out of jury duty and quipped that if he knew so many people were sick and insane, he’d have done better for himself in the medical field.
I was in Boston when I found out my divorce was final.
In late November, our lawyer let me know she had scheduled the "bifurcation hearing" for December 30th. This concerned me, as I was supposed to be on the other side of the country I was not terribly keen on abandoning my holiday plans to make a for-show appearance in an uncontested divorce. Jake was only required to be there by phone, so I asked for the same and hoped for the best.
On the train from New York to Boston, I worried a judge would call and I would have to discuss the details of my marriage and its demise while the armrest hog next to me and the kicking child behind listened in, but the phone didn’t ring.
I forgot about the hearing once I got to Boston. It was luck, really, that I heard my phone ring in my pocket while my friend and I cut through a department store on the way to the parking lot. It was our lawyer, congratulating me. No one needed to talk to me. The hearing was deemed not necessary. The divorce had become final the day before. I thanked her, and hung up.
