A friend of my husband, P*, is getting divorced.  He decided, for understandable reasons, after 10 miserable years, happiness was worth the price.

The price is high.  He offered her (in a no fault state) 60/40 plus $1,000 per month spousal support for a year.  She agreed to 60/40, but wants 60% of what his 401k was at the time of separation (which is over 100% of its current value), and  $2500 per month in spousal support for 3 years.   P*'s hope of settling is dying a painful death.

Transition to me.  That will make sense later.

Last week my husband yelled at me in the driveway.  He's a hothead, plus he was pissed.  He does yell a lot (hotheads do), but not often at me and never in the driveway.  I thought he had refrained because he knew better.

Apparently he didn't.  Apparently I have just been lucky for the past three years.

Among other choice phrases, he called me a "motherfucker."  IN THE DRIVEWAY.  The lack of class isn't totally his fault, I'll introduce the in-laws another day.  However, given I thought he knew better, I was shocked. 

Anger secondary to extreme humiliation was my first reaction.  Without hesitation, I proceeded as planned.  I buckled the children (who witnessed this excruciatingly offensive behavior) and went about my errands.

He did not offer an apology.  In fact, quite the opposite.  When I told him how upset I was, he replied "Well, then you should have kept your nose out of it.  I wasn't even yelling until you butted in where you don't belong."

"Oh.  Well, you should ask P* how things are working out for him," I said.

Yesterday I got flowers delivered to me at work.  Today, chocolate covered strawberries.