"Sometimes I fantasize about getting married again," I said to my friend Rachel. We both looked at each other stunned — even I couldn't believe the words that had just come out of my mouth.

"But," I continued, "I don't really see the point."

Both statements are true.

There is a part of me that dreams of sharing that bond with someone again. This is the more emotional part. But the other part — the more cynical part — says, why even bother?

Consider the cost of marriage (which can really be anywhere from fifty bucks to fifty thousand bucks — and even more if you're totally insane), factor in  the sky-high rate of divorce, then throw in the cost of getting a divorce. Truthfully, marriage can seem like nothing but a bad investment. And that does even cover the emotional energy that you'll spend, the heartbreak that you'll endure, or the cost of your therapist.

It's 2008, and the rules have changed. People live together for years without being married — something that once upon a time was frowned upon. Now, single women give birth to babies every day. Quite simply, times have changed and sometimes it seems that marriage is becoming more and more outdated.

But then why does that other piece of me yearn for it?

What is it about marriage that despite the obvious pain in the ass that it can be, that keeps up coming back for more? 

I've got a problem. I like my current job, a lot. It's fun and rewarding but it's also demanding and on some days it has a tendency to take over my life. Like, for example, when I work 14 days straight. My boss is a wonderful woman, I also like her a lot, as a person, but sometimes — as a boss — she sucks. Like today, for example.

I had been filling the role of administrative assistant (mind you I also do a lot of freelance writing on the side, and have only taken on a "day job" as a means to pay bills while Levi isn't paying child support) for a minimal salary when an opening came up for Activities Director (this is an independent living facility for seniors). 

The activities director position was advertised at 5K a year more than my position. Interviews were conducted and somebody was hired, but the day before she was to start, she called and declined the position. I thought about it, and told my boss I'd like to take it. She readily agreed and even added that it was great for me as the position paid more.

The new job has been even more fun, as I am allowed to be more creative and flexible with my time. My first paycheck was $100 more. I was super excited about that. I began to think of all the ways that I might finally be able to put a little bit of money away for Adrian, or for vacation, or just for something... 

Since I've been living hand to mouth, draining my bank account every week (down to pennies; I'm serious) this was pretty great, and I felt a huge wave of relief come over me.

Then today happened. The payroll company called this morning and told me that my boss had reduced my salary by 4K. (So, now I'm only getting 1K a year more than I was before.) They didn't have an explanation, and as she isn't due back from her vacation for two weeks, I won't be getting one anytime soon.

I'm pretty annoyed. I can't even imagine why she did that. Especially after we talked about it.

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As if I didn't have enough going on already, I decided to add more to my plate. Something major.

I've decided to go to school. I've wanted to learn cinematography and film production for quite some time, and now I'm finally going to do it.

I stumbled across the program a few months ago while doing some research on the Internet. Of course, like anything of its kind, it's pretty expensive. However, they had some information on the site pertaining to grants and other sources of financial aid so I decided to go for it, and I applied.

It was a daunting application complete with questions like "Why should we give this money to you?" and "Explain your commitment and desire to be in the film program." The last question was an essay. I did the best that I could — it took me all day — and sent it on it's way. I didn't get my hopes up, though.

So I was shocked when I received the letter that I had been selected for not one, but two grants. They cover the cost of attendance and then some. I'm also taking out a few student loans so that I can spend more time focusing on this.

I enrolled in the accelerated summer program, so that I can start earlier, cram a bunch in, therefore finishing quicker. I always have enjoyed moving fast.

This is going to be great. It's going to give me something to focus on, something more important than Levi and all of his bullshit. There are some fabulous classes that are going to provide me with excellent opportunities for creativity. And I'm going to learn how to do something that I know that I will love doing.

Classes start May 19. I can't tell you how excited I am to finally be doing something good for myself.

So, are you all ready for this...Levi actually did something! He called Adrian's doctor and paid his $180 bill. Wow, right? I was pretty amazed myself. I think it took me three minutes standing in front of the receptionist before I realized that my mouth was hanging open.

When I got home, I checked my e-mail and I had this from Levi: "The bill has been paid and they will see Adrian. You can call the doctor's office, go to future appts etc. They will help you get free insurance. They said they told you this but you never followed up. You never follow up with anything."

Okay, that pissed me off. I actually hit the roof on that one. How dare he imply that I don't follow through in regards to my son, in regard to my son's health! Does he have any idea how insulting that is, especially coming from him?!

I mean, geez...he pays one bill — one bill that he was ordered by a judge to pay — and suddenly he thinks he has the right to imply that I'm not a good mother.

Do I need to remind him that I've been here since day one? That I'm the one who takes him to the doctor? That I'm the one who cooks him dinner, gives him baths, takes him to the playground, etc.? Does he need reminding that Adrian climbs into bed with ME at night, that I'm the only one of us that he knows?

I suppose he'd like it if I got down on my knees and thanked him for paying the stupid bill. And you know what, maybe I should, because its really a miracle.

I would really like to believe that Levi did that because he actually has a conscience and it was starting to get to him. I'd like to believe that he paid it out of concern for our son. I'd like to believe all of that, but I'm more inclined to believe that he paid it simply because he's worried that he'll get in trouble if he doesn't.

It's always all about him.

I woke up on the morning of my birthday a year older — and just in time to take a shower and rushed off to Family Court. When I got there I realized I shouldn't have rushed.

"Hurry up and wait" seemed to be the motto for the day.

I took my seat in the Petitioner's waiting room and waited. And waited. And waited. At noon, the woman sitting next to me asked what time I was supposed to be there for. "Ten o'clock," I answered. "What about you?"

"Nine-thirty." That started a group conversation about how long we'd all been sitting there, and then led into a conversation about why we were all there.

The stories I heard were awful. Every woman there, and the one man, had been there time and time again — all for child support. Every single one of them trying to collect child support from their exes. I spoke to one woman who told me this was her fifteenth time there. Five years — and she hasn't seen a cent. I spoke to a man who told me that he's been raising his daughter on his own since birth — she's now thirteen — and has only received $300 from his ex.

They finally called my name at two-thirty and I went into the court room — alone. Levi didn't show up. The judge decided to give Levi another chance to show up and adjourned the case until next month. Looks as if I'm due for a round two — at least.

Are any of our First Wives World readers having a similar problem? Have any of you been to court multiple times for child support?

Levi and I have continued talking — briefly — but the lines of communication are open, which is nicer than it's been.

Levi sent money, but he didn't send what he said he was going to send. He sent me two hundred dollars — and misspelled my name on the check! Two hundred dollars! It was almost insulting.

Wait. No. It is insulting.

Adrian's day care costs two hundred and fifty dollars a week. Adrian is ten months old, divide two hundred dollars by ten months and that's twenty bucks a month! That's ridiculous.

Then, he called me and asked me to drop the family court action. He said that he sent me two hundred dollars and that I should be "grateful." Grateful- he actually used that word! I almost want send it back to him.

I feel like an idiot. Thinking he was actually coming around. Even now I'm trying to console myself with thoughts like "Well, he half meant it" and "He did offer up a sincere apology."

But it was all a load of BS, an attempt to manipulate me into doing things "his way."

I told him that I would not drop the family court action, but that I'd be sure to tell the judge that he sent two hundred dollars.

Well, at least now I have an answer to my question: Leopards don't change their spots. Ever.

Two things that don't work: Being broke and searching for a New York City apartment. They don't go together,

And nevertheless, the fact is: I'm broke. Scary broke. My rainy day fund is gone. I thought it would last us much longer but I guess I underestimated how expensive a baby is. I lost my job when Adrian was in the hospital because I couldn't be there. That's made things really tough for a while.

I've secured another job (a pretty good one in Manhattan) but it doesn't start for another six weeks. So now I have the added pressure of finding an apartment with no money. It’s not going too well.

I wrote down all of my expenses last night and realized that I need to pull in an extra $5,000 to make the Manhattan thing work—$5,000 is keeping me from my dream.

My first thought was to take out a loan. Tried it, not going to happen. Since Levi's giant financial mess, MY credit is screwed...go figure. Then I thought about selling some of Levi's stuff that he left in storage. I consulted my lawyer on it—also not going to happen.

My attorney said that since Levi and I are still married I would have to split the proceeds with him. Also since I have no way of knowing how much this stuff is actually worth, Levi could say it’s worth much more than what I sold it for and then I could get even more screwed.

Yippee!

Next I thought about going right to the source: Levi or his parents. I decided against that immediately. I'm not going to beg Levi for money anymore and as far as his parents are concerned, they're such disgusting people I probably wouldn't take their money anyway. They have refused to acknowledge my son’s existence since his birth because he's not Jewish. Prior to his birth, they tried to convince me to sell my baby for $100 K.

I really despise them.

So now, I'm praying for a miracle.

Oh, what a day I’ve had. I start off on a roll. Talking with lawyers, dealing with child support, dealing with Levi’s sister. I started to feel like I would make it through this, that maybe something good could come out of it.

By mid-afternoon I was feeling worn out and then my phone rang. I picked it up, looked at the number on the Caller ID. It was Levi. I instantly felt sick.

I answered the phone with a shaky “hello?” and he starts ranting.

He went on and on about how angry he is, how I’ll never get any child support from him, saying all kinds of horrible things—how I tricked him into having a child that he never wanted, that Adrian is probably not his. Then he started making threats. He said he’d “fuck up my life” to make sure that I’m “miserable” forever and told me I have a “bomb’ coming my way, whatever that means.

I was speechless, and shaking. When I was finally able to say something I asked him “Levi, what do you want? What would you have me do?” He told me he wanted me to “go away.”

I told him that I’d make him a deal; I said if he gives me full custody and agrees to never ever have contact with Adrian and his family agrees to do the same, that I wouldn’t pursue child support.

He agreed saying, “I’d sign over my rights to you right this second if that would ensure I didn’t have to pay child support.”

I made the agreement, but now I’m not so sure. Have I totally denied my son a father? Why, as mothers do we always assume all of the guilt?