I wasn’t going to post a blog today. Mostly because my mom has always told me, ” If you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all.” But I’ve found myself brewing and stewing over something, someone, who has been quite insignificant to me over the last 14 years…my son’s dad.
When we met, it was just another one of my whirlwind romances that started off all hot and heavy with me head over heels for a man who was undeserving of all I wanted to offer. But instead of it ending in the usual fizzing out fashion, this time it ended in a kid. And halfway through my pregnancy, he left me. Pregnant, alone, and to move in around the corner with the woman he was seeing while he was seeing me. I was shattered. I cried so much over the next few months, I was sure there was no way my baby would be born happy or healthy. But he was. He was beautiful and perfect and his dad wanted nothing to do with him nor did he want to help pay to raise him. So I left Erie and headed to Knoxville. I would always call and give the family my address or my phone number if it changed. Not that it mattered because nobody ever called or sent a birthday card or a Christmas present, except once, I think my son’s grandmother did.
Fast forward 12 years. I’m living in Knoxville. Facebook is my thing. I become Facebook friends with his brother whom I really have nothing against. And he says “Larry has a Facebook, you should friend him.” Of course, at first, I think “why the fuck would I do that?” But I wasn’t angry anymore. My struggle to raise my kids was my own. I didn’t expect for anyone else to take responsibility. I made the choice to birth them, I would struggle to raise them. By the time he was twelve, my two oldest were adults and had moved out. Fantastic adults. Not mediocre adults. And that was no thanks to their dads either (yes, they all have different dads, this should not surprise you by now). So I sent him a friend request. Our son was on Facebook. I had pictures of him on my page. I thought maybe his dad would want to finally get to know him. And the first message I got from him after he accepted my request was that he wanted to come visit….me, not his kid.
I basically told him it wasn’t happening but his kid was old enough now to foster some sort of relationship with. I had never muttered a bad word about him to Mel. In my mind, I had murdered him a thousand different ways, but I would never say a bad word about him to my kid.
Recently, he has become active on my Facebook liking pictures and he even posted a comment on one of my blogs that said, “hey, I’m a good man.” I didn’t approve it because then I would have had to reply and you all don’t want to know that person, but the more he does it, the more pissed off I get because I know Mel can see that he has liked a status or a picture and he’s waiting around for a friend request or a message from his piece of shit father because he doesn’t feel about him the way I do.
Mel found the one and only picture I have of his dad holding him as a baby, which was the last time he saw him, and he hung it on the fridge. He tried to tell me it’s because he was a cute baby, but I know it’s because he just wanted a pic of his dad around. Of where he came from. Of his history. And this mother fucker can’t muster up the energy to send a friend request to his kid. And I know it shouldn’t bother me so much, but I’m his mom and I don’t want his feelings hurt when he realizes that his dad only wanted him if I was part of the deal. So I’ve been wrestling with whether to block him like I’ve done so many others or just let him continue on doing what he is doing because Mel is fourteen now and is already starting to form his own opinions. And normally I wouldn’t rant or rave because I’m typically a calm and happy human being, but this thing has gotten under my skin.
RouletteWeekend 