Dear Captain Dickweed,
When I met you at the impressionable age of 16, I had stars in my eyes. Wow, I said. Look at that sexy middle 20’s guy drinking strawberry hill and smoking weed. Little did I know, you were a deadbeat dad to your older children? Little did I know, you still lived with your parents? Little did I know, you were immaturity wrapped in irresponsibility? I was too busy being excited that you would want me.
I was abandoned by my mother and in line to be thrown out by my father. You, being 10 years my senior, looked like my knight in shining armor. My teenage rebellion against authority fit quite well into your world. Your refusal to mature and my lack of maturity were great bedmates. You, 26, never stopped to consider that dating and subsequently impregnating a 16 year old, was even the slightest bit wrong. Of course you loved my admiration. Of course you loved my dependency. I was quite a trophy for you to flaunt.
I can thank you for very few things. The first being, when I had no place to go you gave me a bed to sleep in. Yours in fact. I had no idea how to live on my own. I had no way of acquiring basic necessities for myself. You housed(at your parents), fed, and clothed me when no one else would. Second being, my formal introduction me to hard drugs and how to use them properly. (dripping with sarcasm) Lastly, for leaving no doubt that I could be with a man for almost 3 years, and bare 2 children with him, while never reaching sexual climax. Thank you so much.
It was my pleasure to following you around like a puppy. I cleaned your room. I washed your clothes. I was too young to legally get into bars, so you were kind enough to take me to bars that you knew the security so I could watch you play pool. I thought getting to go to out of town jobs was awesome. I sat in the hotel room for days and never complained. When my mother sent me a plane ticket to visit her, you were pissed. You didn’t want me to leave. I did so anyhow against your wishes. From the moment my feet hit the ground halfway across the country you were checking up on me. You wanted to make sure I didn’t speak to another man. You wanted to make sure I didn’t act like a teenager. When I told you I wasn’t coming back, you sent me a dozen roses and a cheap walmart engagement ring. You asked me to marry you over the phone. I said yes, still not intending to fly back to Dixie. You drove to get me. You drove 15 hours straight, because I went out with some teenagers I met on halloween. The day you arrived, you got me pregnant in my mothers extra bedroom. Be proud grown man. If my mother would have been even half the mother that I am, you’d have been in jail for statutory rape. Lucky for you she wasn’t.
I was a good little house slave. You would leave for work for weeks or months at a time and I would save all the money that you sent home. I was a child, yet, I was responsible and trustworthy. When you would finally come home, the house was clean and there was money in the bank. I thought life was perfect. It was a pleasant fiction, until you would stop working. Until you would quit jobs for no reason. Until you would ride unemployment to the point of us losing our apartment. How many times were we forced to move back into your parents?
I won’t fail to mention that you were thousands behind in child support to you first wife. There were times when we had so little, that I had to share a pack of ramen noodle with our infant daughter for 3 meals a day. You, would go to your parents and eat and leave me and your child at home alone.
You never helped me with Brooke. You wouldn’t even hold her so I could use the restroom. You sat on the Internet. I was miserable. I tried going to church and praying our life better. I tried fasting away our problems. Then I discovered your online sexual conversations with other women. At 17, I asked my pastor for his blessing to divorcing you. I hadn’t let you touch me in months. I felt like you had cheated. When my pastor told me that maybe we needed a more intimate relationship, I left church and rushed home to “be” with you. I cried for days when I realized that was the day, I conceived our son.
At 18, I had our son 8 weeks early, while living with your parents. At 18 I was a mother to a 13 month old and a sickly newborn. We were so poor. I was so overwhelmed. I was sleep deprived and suffering from crippling depression. While you slept, not caring about me or the children, I sat awake, crying, contemplating suicide. I worked up the nerve, and made the best choice of my life. I walked out of yours.
Sure I have made mistakes. What parent doesn’t? I never asked you for a penny. I always let you know where we where or how to get in touch with us. On the rare occasion you reached out, it wasn’t to be a positive influence in the kids life. It’s was to call me a whore or a bitch or a loser. I didn’t get remarried for love. I did it to give my children a chance at normality. Whether or not you approved of how I was raising or provided for our 2, you never once offered support or sought involvement in their lives.
I have not had it easy over the last 12 years. I have done what I could with what I was given. I have clawed my way through some deep valleys. I never spoke ill of you to our babies. I have always figured that your life and actions would, one day, speak for themselves. You have reveled in any opportunity to insult me. You refuse to respect me for the good parent that i am. You have lied to people and told them I stalked you. You have lied to people and told them I hid the children from you. You have lied to people and told them you didn’t know how to contact them. I have ignored your ignorance. Everyone in your life knows that you have nothing on me. Your anger comes from your jealously over me moving on without you.
You sure as hell had my number when you texted me and told me you hoped me and my sick baby rot in hell 2 years ago. You sure as hell knew where we were and what was happening when I asked that you cover our son, Jarred, with your medical insurance so he could be seen by the best cardiologist. Your showed how much you cared when you said that it would be too expensive to add the children to your insurance. That 200 extra a month was an unreasonable amount to assure Jarred was healthy. You were selfish 13 years ago, and you are selfish now.
It is the end of an era and the beginning of an age. I am not a lost little girl anymore. I make all the rules now. I will not allow you in their lives. I have raised my children alone. I have protected and provided for them without you. I have taught them everything they know. They are talented honor students thanks to MY parenting. You don’t deserve them. You will NOT take credit for how amazing they are. You will NOT stroll in all these years later and attempt to be a social network father to my preteen daughter. She may have your eyes and your last name, but, she acts just like me. He may walk like you and have your last name, but, he looks up to me. You are NOT welcome here. You are NOT wanted here. I am NOT a scared 16 year old now. You will NOT push me around. Your insults will roll off my back. I know I have done the right thing for my children. You have NO POWER over me or them.
It would be wise for you to leave us alone. Most deadbeat dads would be thankful for an ex-wife who never sued for child support. Most deadbeat dads would be grateful for an ex-wife who didn’t ruin any of their weekends by forcing them to see their children. What you fail to see, what you have always failed to see, is I’m quite clever Captain Dickweed. In the lovely state we reside, if you do not contact your children or offer any support for a full calendar year, you lose all parental rights to them. It called abandonment. Google it and you’ll see I speak the truth. When I made sure you, your parents, your brothers, your aunts, and your cousins knew how to contact me, you told people I was stalking you. When in actuality I was giving you just enough rope to hang yourself. That forty dollars you gave me when our 11 year old son was 3 months old, doesn’t count as support for all those year in-between. Those hateful emails calling me a slut, don’t count as parental contact. What you have failed to realize, is that I was preparing for this day. What you fail to realize, is that I knew this day would come. I knew all along that you would look around one day an see that the culmination of your miserable life is you being 40, alone, and living with your parents. What you fail to realize, is that I have always been 2 steps ahead of you. You are not only unwanted, but, now you are unable. A lot has changed since I was that naive teen. I have grown 3 inches, my eyes turned from brown to green, and I have reached a level of bitch that you couldn’t possibly have anticipated. You helped create the beast that you now poking with a stick. Your taught me how to hate. Now you reap the benefits of your accomplishment. I have won. I have succeeded. I have overcome. The children and I will be fine. Not that you ever cared. At one time, I thought you were a knight in shining armor. Now I see you were just a loser in tinfoil.
The best thing that you never really had.