Its a raredivorcethat doesnt have some long-simmering anger and tension behind it.
Recently, we asked divorced writers to share the one fight they consider the last straw in their marriages.
I was disgusted by his refusal to attempt to see my point of view.
The love was gone, and a mere tolerance for one another was only hanging by a thread.
For me, the fight was so metaphorical.
She stayed at home with the kids while I worked.
What I could not seem to understand was how such a predictable schedule could be so unpredictably expensive.
From my midtown office, I could feel our credit card getting heavier with every passing day.
We fought about it a lot.
It seems so immature in hindsight, but it was the tug finally unraveling a seven-year marriage.
How can a lunch for one be that expensive?
I asked one day.
It was not just for her, she also paid for a friend, she said.
A friend, does it matter?
That is when I lost it.
The conversation quickly disintegrated into accusations and threats, which abruptly ended with us bringing up divorce.
She then grabbed her keys, purse and headed out the driveway.
If youre wondering, I finally learned the identity of the friend.
Sometime later, my kids were talking about moms boyfriends birthday dinner.
I asked where they ate.
His favorite restaurant of all time, they said.
I discovered the truth there: I had an old credit card receipt to prove it.
The Fight About Paris
The Louvre was closed; somehow, that became my fault.
I was supposed to look up the hours and had gotten them wrong.
By the end of the first day, I had blisters on my feet.
I wanted to relax in a cafe, sip espresso and people-watch all day.
But my husband didnt drink coffee.
It was less of an argument, just a sense that there was no us.
My husband took it and kept it because it was taking time away from him.
I think, although it was just a phone, it represented something much bigger to me.
I could no longer tolerate the attempt to control me in so many ways.
I am an educated adult woman who was many things: a wife, mother, worker, lover.
We went over the same things as always: Im always with these kids.
I am the only one bringing in an income.
You dont appreciate me.
You dont respect me.
We have nothing in common anymore.
Are you cheating on me?
There was no trust and definitely no respect.
The 7-year marriage never had a chance, in my opinion, because it seemed hopeless.
There were just too many issues and an unwillingness to get help, both individually and as a couple.
We were a blended family and my three daughters were all sleeping that night in the same room.
She screamed at me, If you said goodnight to the oldest, then I am done with you.
She stormed out of the room to go sleep in another room on the first floor.
I knew this last episode was the final straw in many years of unacceptable behavior.
It was one we had over and over again: about money.
He liked to gamble, lease a car we couldnt really afford and emulate success through spending.
Money is too important a part of marriage to have completely opposite viewpoints on.
The kids were enjoying having their daddy home and I was enjoying watching all of them together.
Her chair and her plate of food plopped down right along with her.
My husband instantly stood up and yelled at our two-year-old, followed by a swift swat.
She burst into tears.
At first, I was stunned, unable to move.
It wasnt long before the old familiar knot tightened in the pit of my stomach.
If I was honest with myself, I really wasnt surprised by his reaction.
From day one, we had very different ideas about how we would discipline our children.
It wasnt the first time he had yelled at the kids, and I at him for doing so.
Carol Schaffer
Responses have been edited and condensed for clarity.
This article originally appeared onHuffPost.
