My last therapist had classified me as “hypersexual” and said I had a “compulsive sexual disorder.” I preferred to call it what I was…
… a fucking nymphomaniac.
Chapter18
Judgement
Five daysafter the being served papers by Ass-Hat, I staggered out of the courthouse, barely able to focus on anything more than putting one foot in front of the other. My stomach roiled and a ringing in my ears pushed me to the point of passing out. The sun shone high overhead, hot and bright. My head pounded from the sound of traffic outside the courthouse. The heat did not cause my distress, however; the hearing had been a nightmare.
Enduring the reading of the filings, the statements, and the accusations sent my brain into a spiral. Attorneys argued, and the judge slammed his gavel and those sounds till echoed. Arguments that my profession made me unfit as a mother rattled around my brain like fruit in a blender. Further accusations followed that my dancing at the Cherry Pie made me even more unworthy. Eachfact,each argument, each ruling by the judge, pierced me.
My lawyer, one of the best family attorney’s in the LA area, did a fine job, but the judge was an older judge, morals firmly entrenched in the 1950s, and so as a sex therapist and amateur stripper, I had no chance of receiving justice. When every argument had been made, every rebuttal argued, and every objection ruled on, the judge ruled in favor of my ex-husband. Effective the moment the judge made his ruling, I could no longer see my children except for once a month supervised visits.
It devastated me.
I reached my car and searched my purse for my keys. Juggling my purse, my cell phone, and my emotions proved too much. I dropped my purse and its contents spilled all over the pavement of the parking garage. Tissues, lipstick, nail clippers, a compact, and other assorted items slid across the ground. Everything but the car keys.
Squatting down, I began retrieving items and slamming them into my purse.
“What else can go wrong today?” I cried.
Someone, who I didn’t hear, approached, bent down, and retrieved the compact which had slid several feet away. He handed it to me and I plopped it into the purse before rising, only to find myself face-to-face with Ass-Hat.
“Oh. It’s you. Come to torture me some more?”
“Look, Regina. I didn’t mean for it to…”
“The hell you didn’t, Richard. You’re the one that made the motion.”
“Well, my lawyer did, actually.”
“The lawyer you paid. Don’t play with semantics.”
“Regina, I didn’t have a choice. I…”
“Didn’t have a choice? Things have been good for the last two years. Of course, you had a choice. Why now did you put your ass hat on and decide to make me miserable again? You’ve always had a choice. Things had been good. Hadn’t they?” My hands moved as if emphasizing my points until I poked him in the chest with my finger at the end of the last sentence.
“They had been good. I thought we were in a good place.”
“This came out of the blue. Why? Why now?”
“You were dancing in a strip club, for God’s sake, Regina.”
“What? A stripper can’t be a wonderful mother? It was amateur night, Richard. I don’t do it for the money.”
“You shouldn’t be doing it at all.”
“You’re going to shouldn’t me? You shouldn’t have slept with your last three secretaries either while we were married, but you did.”
“That’s in the past.”
“What do you want?” I cried out, tired of the same old fight. Rifling through my purse for the keys, unable to look at him right now, I fought back the angry tears that pooled in my eyes.
“I. I just wanted to say I’m sorry it got so brutal in there. There was a lot of pressure. I didn’t want to…”
“I’m tired of you pushing the blame on to me all the time, Richard. You filed the papers to alter custody. Why don’t you go home and take care of our children, since I can’t now? Thanks to you.”
“God, Regina. You’re still the same old bitch you’ve always been. I try to say I’m sorry and you make a scene.”
