"Et tu, Brute?"

Oh, the Ides of March.

You think Caesar had a bad day?

Well, ten years ago today I made the worst mistake of my life: I married a real bastard. I wrote about him once before, here. I was freshly twenty-one and hopelessly naive. He was almost twenty years my senior and secretly diabolical. (Well, he was a lawyer so perhaps it was only a secret to me. See above: naive.)

Let's just say one of the nicer parts of the union was the time I hurt my back somehow and he decided I was faking the excruciating pain and inability to walk. He went about his business, leaving me stuck sitting up on a couch for four days until my mother had to come over and take me to the hospital! Oh yeah, he also stole my jewelry while I was there. (If you read the other post linked to above that will make more sense to you.)

One would think that the bastardly deeds would end at divorce, right? They don't. I swear to you that every year around this time something comes up to remind me what a total Brutus he is.

One year I received a letter from court saying that I would face some type of criminal charge if I didn't pay the taxes on a car that HE sold and kept the profits from. The best part is: it was my car which he had been awarded at the divorce hearing.

A few years ago I found out that he owes taxes from 1999- the year we married. I had foolishly filed jointly with him, thankfully only that one year. Every year since then my return has went towards his debt. Last year the IRS (after denying my Innocent Spouse Relief claim) told me that it was finally paid off. I was so relieved... until last month when I called to check on something else and they informed me that "when we told you that it was paid, ummmm, we made a mistake. Now you owe the late penalties from that year.)

Of course, the penalties are nearly as much as the original debt. Ughhh. Whom do I despise more, him or the IRS?

Hmmm.

It's close, but he still wins. Definitely.