We all know the biggest non-negotiable in relationships is the “kids or no kids” conversation. You have to agree on that before you combine finances and walk down the aisle. The Original Poster (OP) did exactly that. She never wanted them, her fiancé agreed, and they got married. It should have been happily ever after, child-free edition. But four years in, he pulled the ultimate switcheroo, deciding his sudden urge to procreate was stronger than his vows to the woman standing right in front of him.
He divorced her because she wouldn’t go back on their original agreement. That stings. He prioritized hypothetical, non-existent children over his actual living, breathing wife who wanted to spend her life with him.
While OP was understandably devastated because she actually took her commitment seriously, her ex wasted absolutely zero time. He immediately remarried and pumped out two kids back-to-back with his new wife, finally getting the domestic bliss he blew up his first marriage for. Meanwhile, OP took the high road. She finished her higher education, landed a high-paying job in healthcare, and started living her absolute best life. She was thriving. He was… well, we’re getting to that.
Fast forward three years. OP is minding her own successful business when who washes up on her doorstep at 8 a.m.? The ex-husband. And folks, he was weeping. Being a decent human being who assumed someone must have died, she let him in and gave him a drink. But no, nobody died. He was just crying because the “dream life” he blew up his marriage for absolutely sucks.
Get your tea ready, because the schadenfreude is piping hot. He proceeded to unload a dump truck of misery onto her living room floor. Apparently, he hates the two kids he was so desperate to have. He’s broke because kids are expensive (shocking development!), and one child has special needs, adding to the stress.
But wait, it gets worse. He then started complaining about the new wife he replaced OP with—body-shaming her for “getting fat” after birthing his two children, complaining that she nags him, and whining that she never puts out. He has no money, no freedom, and no s*x life. It sounds like he wanted the Kodak moments of fatherhood without the actual work of being a husband or dad.
Then came the audacity. The sheer, unadulterated gall. He admitted he regretted leaving OP and wanted a divorce from wife number two. And then, with a level of entitlement that should be studied in labs, he asked if OP would take him back because he “learned his lesson.” Sir. You didn’t borrow the car without asking and scratch the paint; you discarded your wife to replace her with a broodmare, realized it was hard work, and now you want a refund on your life choices?
OP did what any rational person would do in the face of such overwhelming patheticness: She laughed in his face. She couldn’t help it. It was pitiful. She told him straight up that a broke man with two small kids to support, a soon-to-be second ex-wife, and zero loyalty is not exactly a catch on the dating market. Then she dropped the K-bomb: Karma.
Naturally, he got pissed. He called her an ahole because she wasn’t “supportive” and didn’t let him down nicely. Supportive of what, exactly? His attempt to monkey-branch back to the safety of the life he destroyed because his new toy isn’t fun anymore? He made his bed—literally, with another woman, twice—and now he has to lie in it, crying babies, debt, and all. OP is definitively NTA, and honestly, her restraint in only laughing is commendable.