When is a simple question anything but?

When you ask it of Dick, that's when.

Dear Dick. Can we please switch February and April vacations? I will be working out of state during April vacation week.

Simple enough right? All it really needs is a yes or no. This (plus several more paragraphs and at least eight additional emails I won't bore you with) is what I got:

You are not my favorite person right now.  Maybe if you change your behavior, act more like a mother, and stop being in contempt, then I would be more open to concessions and favors.  Until I see some real movement from you with regard to following the order, and including me as a co-parent, I've got nothing for you.

Right. Silly me. Of course not.

We've been divorced 11 years now. (At least I think so - I can't remember when I married Dick, or what the official date of our divorce was. Why? Because he's still sucking energy out of me after all this time, like those annoying ants that keep coming into my house season after season. You spray, you put out the traps, you protect yourself, you think you have a handle on it and then... they're right back there, making your skin crawl.)

I used to try and explain and rationalize. Cajole and humor. Ignore or call his bluff. Defend myself and point out his inconsistencies. I gave all of those strategies up a long time ago, because they just didn't work. Why? Because you just can't reason with crazy.

I know what you're thinking. His answer doesn't seem all that unreasonable. Well, of course not, I haven't established context for you yet. This may take a few posts.

I met Dick when I was a freshman in college. We both worked at the campus conference center...I was a waitress, he was a bus boy... blah blah blah. He liked me, I liked his attentions, we got together. Fast forward a bit... I graduated, he dropped out. I was confident and adventurous, he struggled with his self-esteem and guarded me protectively. I had lived and travelled abroad, he had generally stayed safely between New Hampshire and Massachusetts. I fancied myself a poet, he a novelist. We made a baby, we got married, he needed a better job.

He became a cop.

He became an asshole.

I didn't know what hit me.