Divorce can be wonderful

I am in celebratory mood. Divorce can be a sad and stressful time for may people, but for this particular fruitloop it's a cause for much celebration.

Hands up anyone who's tried to divorce a narcissistic psychopath. OK, so in the absence of my being able to actually see you right now, I guess I should give the heads-up for anyone who suspects that they're married to one and wondering how to achieve such a mind-blowing coup.

Rule Number One:

Just remember, you can't divorce a narcissistic psycho, they wont let you. Use reverse psychology. Apply for a divorce. Wait about 8 weeks before they slap an anti-suit injunction on you. Haha! that's a good one, because they don't want you to divorce them, they have to divorce you.

Rule Number Two:

Be damn sure you have money to burn. I'm talking eye-wateringly, serious amounts of money that could be used for something far more constructive like your children's education or your shrink bills. You'll need the best lawyer you can afford. Firstly, because you have to deal with someone who is more cunning than a friggin weasel and has the charm of one of those guys who do tricks with a snake in a basket. You simply must have a lawyer who's got teeth and balls. Frisk the bugger's crotch and ask him to open his mouth. I'M SERIOUS. We all know though, that lawyers with a full set of teeth and mammoth balls don't come cheap.

Secondly, remember... the psycho will always try to out-do you. They simply have to have the best lawyer. It's a matter of entitlement. So, you can't be caught with your pants down and relying on the legal skills of a toothless, impotent, eunuch when he wheels in the big guns.

Rule Number Three:

Patience. Be prepared for the longest, most acrimonious, frustrating, expensive, divorce and settlement in f**ing history. The narcissistic psycho will get these expensive lawyers to communicate about all possible minutiae from weekly letters regarding access to the dog, to a spreadsheet showing who owns the contents of the bloody refrigerator. I jest not! Oh, and you'll need to sort out that anti-suit injunction.

Rule Number Four:

Keep your marbles intact. There will be times when you get to read and respond to their 100th solemnly sworn affidavit, and you'll wonder if you've lost the plot. These things are amazingly convincing works of fiction, and reading them will make you want to vomit...you'll probably want to slit your wrists too! DONT. Sure, they'll contain a grain of truth, but the truth will be so twisted that you'll doubt your own sanity. Reach for the diary, the photographic evidence, the forensic accounting report and the bloody Valium....but keep your marbles intact.

Rule Number Five:

When the decree absolute comes through, and he sends you a pompous message reading "I find it so very pleasing that I have finally stopped your divorce and divorced you" .......f**ing well CELEBRATE! You will be finally free of the bastard.

Today, I celebrated with a spot of fly posting around the village. This weekend I am having an enormous party.

BECAUSE DIVORCE IS EXPENSIVE..... BUT FREEDOM IS PRICELESS!

So, when exactly did you realise you had married a psychopath?

It was a straight forward enough question, over a glass of wine at a party.

We had been chatting about relationships and there was a frisson of something in the air between us. I felt a nervous twitch coming on. All his fault of course...'the ex' and the twitch...not the very cute guy interrogating me.

The trouble was, it was a bummer of question to answer and the cute guy knew it because he was grinning mischievously at me. I mean, how do you explain a ten-year marriage to a psychopath without making yourself look like a complete fruit loop yourself?

Obviously, I could have gone on the defensive, explaining that psychopaths are masters of disguise, you know, seemingly normal and often charming people until someone or something tips them over the edge.

I could have recounted the psychologist's explanation that 'the ex' suffered from the same personality disorder as both Hitler and allegedly Stalin. Shouldn't that elicit some degree of sympathy and understanding from my sexy interrogator?

Or, I could have given a boring monologue of dates and times when I noticed that 'the ex' was behaving just a little left of centre, and then cleverly lifted the conversation with the hilarious story about my 'aha moment'

Hell, even the explanation that I am a truly benevolent soul, believing in the best in people until proven otherwise makes me sound like a naive nutcase given a ten year marriage.

Now let's face it, it's not often that a divorced mum of four gets chatted up by a good-looking younger man. I damn well wasn't going to let this opportunity pass without some attempt at making it clear that I consider myself to be a balanced, emotionally mature, exceedingly yummy mummy.

I took a sip of wine, gave him my sexiest, most mischievous smile back and told the absolute truth.....

"Well, I suppose I realised the day that I stood in the laundry dosing all of his underpants with itching powder"