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Me, the Ingrate

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I have a situation here. It’s my life. I have been married for the second time to a scary control freak. I get to go on glorious trips overseas—cruises that most people get to only dream about. The problem is I have to wear, eat, say, do everything that my husband dictates. He’s a smoker so I get left alone in restaurants, piano bars, coffee bars, while he goes outside to smoke, and on the cruises, he makes friends of other smokers, so I am left alone at a formal dinner table among people I don’t know looking and feeling like a fool.


I hate every minute of my life with him. I can’t leave (I can hear you saying—why the hell don’t you get out?) because I’m sixty-seven and have no money of my own—certainly not enough to live on and he has made it quite clear that he will see me in a garret before he pays me a cent.


He has never allowed me to work, and for a long while I thought I was lucky. I have a comfortable lifestyle which makes me out to be an ingrate in the eyes of people who don’t see through him. What would you suggest I do? I don’t know anything about DivineCaroline—love the name! I’ll see where this goes.



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