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I landed on the duct-taped parts

  • Posted on May 4, 2009 at 1:06 pm
This entry is part 8 of 10 in the series atypicalrelationship

I am not the right woman for him.

I refuse to discuss marriage.

I am shoving my children down his throat.

I am just using him for sex.

I am under my mama’s thumb (and after her money).

I let That House come between us.

I wouldn’t have nothin’ if it weren’t for my Daddy dying. HE worked for it all.

I’m looking for a father for my kids, not a relationship.

The texts keep coming. I flipped the bitchswitch, the cold-as-ice, the “there’s no way in hell I’d speak to you again” mode as soon as he accused me of shoving my children down his throat. I’m already a single mom – I already do it all alone. I’d rather do it alone than with a jackass any day of the week. He asks, textingly, if I miss him. I reply that it doesn’t matter if I miss him or not, he’s not the man for me or my children.

Weeks go by, and I call/text. I need to know when/if he is going to pay his portion of the phone bill. He goes off on a tangent.

His wife, his soon-to-be-ex, his friend stops by and speaks to my manager at work. Leaves a letter for me with him, telling me to leave “her husband” alone. No calling, no texting. He’s in my past, it’d be best to leave him there. Complete with a copy of NC’s “criminal conversation” law. No problem – I call the phone company and have service to that line interrupted. I will not be responsible for a phone bill when I’m “not allowed” to call or text that line.

His parents come in the store, and I ask if he’d reconciled with her. They look at me like I’ve grown horns. I showed them the letter, and how it sounds as if they are back together. They say they’ll take care of it, and we go our separate ways.

Frustrations abundant, and promises forgotten.

  • Posted on April 10, 2008 at 10:17 am

He signed an acknowledgement of paternity at birth.

His name is on the birth certificate.

The child is his father remade, in stature and build (and temperment).

Even though he has signed and acknowledged, he still has the legal right to request DNA testing.

A court date had been scheduled in December 2007, before Christmas, in another state. Obviously I was not able to attend this hearing. I have had no further information from this other state – I don’t know if it was continued, if he requested said DNA testing, what-have-you.

When we were discussing The End of our relationship, he said he would probably stay out of The Child’s life until the age of five. At that point (when The Child is fully capable of expressing needs and wants) he would be interested in becoming a part of The Child’s life.

The Child will be seven at the end of this month.

Okay, I’m done.

  • Posted on December 9, 2007 at 4:07 pm

It’s over. Finished, kaput, fin.

I know I haven’t given you a blow-by-blow of the last month, so let me do that now.

He has called me every day, and asked for permission to call the next day.
He is in love, calls me his precious, his love, and tells me I’m more beautiful every time he sees me.
He wants to be married in a year, maybe.

I do not give my heart so easily. I like him. I appreciate his attentions, but am in no way shape or form in love. To be completely frank, the last time he told me I was beautiful I accused him of intoxication (In my defense, I’d been at work for 8 hours and was having one of those bloated uncomfortable “omg I’m a TROLL” days).

Neither am I ready to speak of marriage.

For a few brief moments, I felt badly that I didn’t return his sentiment. I do LIKE the guy, after all.

But.

Guilt is a horrible foundation for a relationship, and I did indeed feel guilty about not being as ready as he is to commit.

But.

Last night I tried again to explain to him that I felt as much, and found that it’s not about me, it’s about him. He kept kissing me and wouldn’t let me speak. I tried to push him away so I could speak, and he wouldn’t release me.

It’s frustrating enough with the language and cultural differences, but to think that kisses can change my mind is naive at best.