If you are truly a ‘baby daddy’ in all matter of that term, DO NOT read this entry. You might read some shit about yourself that you might not want to hear*

Granted, the mere title “Ramblings of a Single Parent Goddess” might be a reason why I have no male followers, the note above might be for naught but it is what it is.

I will be the first to admit that I fucked up royal by having a child with you. On the other hand, I will never be the one who is first accused of being immature and childish. I love my son with everything that I have and I realize that being a single parent with minimal help and relief time is not the most exciting thing to do and if I could have it another way, I would.
That being said, if I had to do this ALL over again and not have my son, I would choose to stay right where I am… Mad as Fuck!

This is why I need to get this out of my system today and now and forever. For my sanity’s sake:

Today, I must say that I hate you with all that I have.
As a mother, I have come to the decision that my son comes first. Before everything, I must think of his safety.

Downside is that I married your stupid ass and just getting off the phone with you is something that has me clawing at the walls whenever I must speak with you.

There comes a time in a person’s life when they have to own up to their mistakes and move forward with a new way of thinking.

I am more than aware that you did not willingly choose to have children and I am more than aware that you feel you are forced to do your job as a parent. I also understand that you feel that your life is over (if it ever actually began) when God gave you this beautiful child and you chose to spit in His face by calling the child’s mother out and stomping your feet and begging her to have an abortion when she could have and to give him up for adoption after it was no longer an option.
You never saw that this girl you called yourself “dating” was maturing before your eyes and was looking at you like a madman and having difficulty looking at herself in the mirror trying not to see the victim that she had become. By the time your son was conceived (albeit not on purpose, not in an “I’m going to trap him with a kid” kind of thinking) I, the woman you had controlled all those years, was done with being controlled. The mere thought of raising a child in the life she was living was not going to work and I planned for a year, and left you when the boy was only 17 months old. I was not going to stick it out with your crazy ass and have my son grow up watching without an ounce of respect for others.

I was unaware that at the age of 19, I would meet a man who at 37, should have known that there was something almost criminal in dating someone my age. You, if your mother had raised you right, should have been able to recognize that the woman you had added on as a ‘friend'(at least that is what you told your girlfriend I was) was young enough to be your fucking daughter.

Shame on you for searching out women and girls with not the best self esteem so you could be the man of the house and run their worlds.

Some how at that time I thought you were good for me (because I wasn’t thinking) and I sure as hell know better now.

When I get on the phone, I want to scream and yell at you because I know you are still stalking girls now old enough to be MY daughters and that makes me sick.

So when I ask for a slight modification in the schedule, reply via email because you will have a monster on the end of the line until I decide in my head that I choose not to hate you anymore.

Please don’t look for a miracle to happen any time soon. I took 13 years of your shit and I make no estimation as to when I will stop hating you. It is my turn to dish out what you gave me and if you are thinking clearly, which you more than likely are not, you wouldn’t want to call me for shit.

I will make every effort to be civil, but know that the sound of your voice is more than I can tolerate at this point in my life and I would be more than satisfied if I NEVER had to hear your squeaky upstate NY accent ever again.

Thank you for calling me as I was writing this, so I could tell it to you personally.


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