Disembodied Intimacy

Clever words and compliments abound in the fantasy world of chat.

But no eyes meet and no hands touch.

Making connections via a keyboard is like watching the food channel to become a gourmet chef. There’s no actual cooking going on but I can lick my lips and imagine the taste.

Eventually...I’ll get hungry, turn off the food porn and go in search of actual sustenance...usually something unsatisfying and inferior to the amazing cuisine that got me going in the first place.

Yup. 

Support?

My ex-husband writes a check for the minimum court-mandated amount of child support, wraps it in a folded piece of blank white copy paper, hand writes my name and address and his return address on the envelope, then hands it to my children to give to me on the 5th and the 20th of each month. I'm guessing he has something to do with the fact that whether it's my son or daughter who hand me the envelope, I always hear, "Here's Daddy's money for you."

Over the years, I've asked him to mail the checks. I've made this request in person, on the phone, and via email. He claims that, if he does that, I will not get the checks on time. I stopped asking.

Since we separated approximately 7 1/2 years ago, I've calculated that I've received child support checks this way approximately 90 times. 

So, why does it still piss me off so much?

© 2012, Julie M. Baker