When I was married to my ex-husband, every couple of months he would pull out a cloth bag he kept in his nightstand full of pocket change, and take the coins to the bank to be cashed.
The act seemed so cutely childish, like he was a 10-year-old counting out the pocket money from his piggy bank to buy lollies or a comic book.
As a couple, our money was joint except for “fun money,” which we’d each take out once a month. We could spend our “fun money” however we wished, and the coins he took to the bank would go towards that.
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It wasn’t until much later that I learned my then husband had been lying to me about money: about how much he had, where he was getting it, and what he was doing with it.
He wasn’t buying lollies or comic books with his. He was buying the drugs he was also secretly using.
There were other things too he did to get money without my knowledge. He sold things on eBay, packaging and mailing them off from his work, so I wouldn’t see. He sold scrap metal for cash.
Then there were the other things he bought: the antiques and other collectibles to decorate his “man cave” that he ran up on a secret credit card.
My ex-husband had a problem, a big one:
He was financially unfaithful.
The term “financially unfaithful” sounds so silly.
Being “unfaithful” conjures up images of lipsticked collars, the trace scent of another woman’s perfume, or the phone number on a napkin left carelessly in a pant’s pocket.