Whoops, Your Fault

Eight and a half years ago, I started this den of loons.  I had had web pages over the years before, but there was this new, stupidly named thing called a blog, and I thought, “what the fuck?”  I needed a place to dump my brain.  I needed a place with more permanence than Facebook and other yet-to-be-invented bullshit.

And, I needed a refuge for myself.

On the surface, I was living the American dream: married, good job, house, two new cars, two kids, a dog, some fish and a couple of lizards.

Underneath, not so much:  Frozen out in the bedroom since 2002.  Same goddamn Jeannie ponytail hairstyle every day for more than a year at that point.  Critters?  Wholly my responsibility.  Kids?  Mine to deal with if they wouldn’t park themselves in front of the TV or play in their rooms.  Online poker for pretend money waits for no one, after all.

A year and a half later, that shit was done.  Good bye.

The Court said not so fast.  The ex said ok to $xxx a month, but pay your half.  Half the trip to San Diego.  Half the trip to Boston.

August this year, we fix some of the bullshit.  Wife can pay me to be the dad, and can lie and BS her way to a discount.  But what about the extras, like a trip to SFO?  “Not my problem – the trip is optional. I’m paying you 5.5 times what you paid me, so take it out of there.”  (it’s 2.8x, but only because wife agreed in 2005 and NEVER asked to adjust the number.)

In other words, “fuck you daughter.  I would rather be a bitch to your Dad than help you make a dream trip come true.  It doesn’t matter what Dad did on top of child support.  It doesn’t matter that i had a chance to negotiate a lower number, but it was more fun to be a bitch then and a martyr when the Court orders what Dad proposed in the first place. Woe is me.”

I’m left to wonder – what’s another word for petty shortsighted bitch. My daughter has a few suggestions.  I’m lucky this place is still here for me to vent.

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