(A man of leisure… or so he thought).
Financially, things started to get worse once I’d moved out to the US. We went downhill fast, whilst still having no idea what *Steve had spent all ‘our’ money on. All I knew, was that considering he had said back in December 2011 I could be a “lady of leisure”, shit was going to hit the fan. He spent faster than he earned, and was even ignoring money saving tips I put forward. It was suddenly his money after mine had run out. But were it not for his excessive spending (with nothing to show for it), we would have been fine. I made sure of that, which is why I worked as much as I could before the move, sold my car and furniture, etc. At four, five and six months pregnant, he was shoving me out to work, telling me it was about time I got a job! At the time, he was seeing a therapist. I remember he walked out of the last session we had together because according to him, there was nothing to talk about. I, however, remained in the room and told the therapist of our financial woes and the impossible he was expecting from me. Quite rightly so, she said I had done all I could; the rest was up to him. He was the one who needed to step up to the plate, especially as I was pregnant and that it was his idea for me to move there in the first place.
We never went back again. Even though the army was paying for me to see her separately, Steve would not allow me to go back and see her again. There was only one car between us – the one I paid for – but at the time, I didn’t have my driver’s licence. Even if I did, he would use the excuse that he needed the car for work and still wouldn’t allow me to use it anyway. The title was in his name. He made this fact very clear to me.
Having no idea how I was going to get to and from work, I started looking for employment anyway. I knew no company would take me on being so far gone into my pregnancy. By the time I was trained up, I’d have to go on maternity leave. It made no sense, but I wanted to keep the peace as much as possible. Steve actually wanted me to work and support him, not to mention pay child support for his daughter from my own wage! He stated that I should work, whilst he’ll be a stay at home father. The idea really appealed to him.
Steve’s car tags ran out on his birthday, November 14th 2012. He didn’t want to get new tags when he was supposed to, so there was an additional fee for late payment. As if money wasn’t tight enough. By November 30th, with the car being our only mode of transport and I had hospital appointments to attend, he was driving the car illegally. We went to get the tags, only to find out that since March of the same year, all vehicles had to go for an Emissions Test. I couldn’t take any more bad news. All I could do, was pray that the car would pass so no extra money would need to be found to to keep it on the road. It was (and still is) a 1998 Nissan Maxima. It failed…
I asked Steve what were we going to do. We had no money. We could barely meet rent for the mould infested room we were staying in. I was already not eating enough, if at all. The only thing I could do was sacrifice what little food I had altogether, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to make any sacrifices. We had the weekend to think about it, because he was bringing the car to get fixed on Monday 3rd December, and we had to return to the tag office on the same day.
Steve did have a “brainwave” though. He wanted me to pay for Oxanna, Pheonix (our cats – I will go into detail about them later), what little luggage we had of which most was his, himself and myself to get to the UK on my credit card because his car cost $247.00. Hold on a minute, The cost of his car was going to be $247.00, but it was going to cost me approximately $4,500.00 on my credit card to go along with his idea. A debt that would be solely in my name. I didn’t even have the actual credit card with me. I had spoken to my mother via Skype months earlier, who had told me a new replacement credit card had arrived for me in the UK. She gave me the details, which I wrote down in case of an emergency. Knowing I had this information, Steve was determined to rack up yet another debt on my card. (See “My Mother’s Wedding). I was having none of it. But he tried his best to get me to agree, stating that he would continue to drive around illegally until we were going to leave the US for a new life in the UK; he’d then leave the car at the airport, meaning he wouldn’t have to deal with the up and coming bill.
Anyway, after explaining to him that he’d be out of work for nearly a year, whilst things were being set up if we did go to the UK, I asked him what would he do with that time. Surely, he’d get bored. Steve said he wouldn’t be bored. He’d chill out at home and go sightseeing. So, with just two weeks to go before the birth of my son, he wanted me to pay for us to get to the UK on my credit card (I’d be left to find the money to pay off the debt); find somewhere for us to live; get a job; pay the bills – rent, gas, electricity, T.V. Licence, council tax, water, and broadband; mobile/cell phones for each of us; food; buy new furniture; get a new car; pay for him to travel, eat out, go sightseeing and to get new clothes. Not to mention getting things for our soon to be new born son – crib, buggy, etc. I would have the world on my shoulders, whilst he would be a man of leisure. His way of thinking was not normal.
(Second Trimester of Pregnancy: Weeks 13 to 27. womens-health-advice.com).
It was not the first time the subject had come up. Months earlier, when Steve was looking for an institution in which to study after his time was up in the army, he suggested studying in London (UK). This surprised me as he was always saying how much he hated cities and crowds because of his (so called) PTSD, which might I add, he does not suffer from. So why did he want to make this move? This was his reasoning… he said he’d claim benefits from a system he’s never paid into. He added that he liked the idea of not paying for medical, indicating he would use our National Health Service (NHS). Did he think I was stupid enough to bring him to my country to sponge off of the system? The response was a flat “no” on all occasions.
I went to the US because he forced me to go be with him, laying on the guilt trip if I didn’t. Although this being the case, it was never my intention to live anywhere else except the UK, but at least when I did go, I was armed with a Bachelor’s Degree in Psychology & Sociology (with Politics & American Studies), not to mention, three A-Levels and six G.C.S.E.s. I had studied up to the age of twenty-two with no breaks. To add to this, I had work experience in Accounts – number crunching; as an Account Manager – helping to design and create adverts for newspapers and magazines, as well as glossy brochures on behalf of Estate Agents/Realtors; and my most current job by the time I moved was Acting and Modelling in T.V., Films, Commercials and Corporate Videos. I was not going to the US to claim benefits at all. Nor was I going there for Steve to support me. My intention was to work. I had been working since I was seventeen.
Whereas I could bring something to the US, Steve had nothing to bring to the UK. There was no way I was going to allow him to come to my country via me so he could just do as he pleased. I’m so glad I stood firm.
(*Not his real name)
Blog of a Mad Black Woman 