Unfriended – and a giant fish
For all my growth and new maturity (I say with a modicum of sarcasm) I thought I had let go of a certain resentment. It became very apparent that I have not relieved myself of it – after a couple of small kicks to the teeth last night.
So I’m breaking one rule of confidentiality and I’m going to talk about someone. Oh yeah, I’m gonna. Gird your loins.
I’m even putting a photo up … so other women can take heed. I did blur out the other person in the pic (see, I do still have an edit button.)
Nic and I were chatting about his ‘donor’ I won’t give him the noble title of ‘Father’ or ‘dad’ he earned neither.
There is a catchy song on the radio by an entertainer named Mackelmore. When I looked this song up, I was surprised to find he resembled said ‘donor’ when I knew him in the clubs. Only, donor had darker blonde hair and a leather jacket. But, similar looking. See below. That is Mackelmore.
Damien Lewis also reminds me of a young version of donor
I wanted to compare to be sure – as it’s been over 18 years since I saw ‘donor’ young.
I went onto Facebook where I am friends with ‘donors’ mother. I use the term ‘friend’ loosely. I think we only chatted twice. Once she actually asked me to send pictures of Nic? Um …. It’s Facebook – I have a WHOLE BUNCH of photo albums chock-a-block full of pictures of Nic. Click on them woman!
There were 3 pictures of donor in her album. So I typed her name and … nothing. She had unfriended me!!!
Now, the last message I sent to her was just before Nic turned 18. basically saying that it would be the last time I reached out and made an effort. I’ve had this notion from the get go that just because donor didn’t want to be in his son’s life, didn’t mean I should punish Nic’s paternal grandparents. I took him to meet his paternal grandmother as a newborn. She didn’t want to hold him. I took him to say good-bye when I was about to move to Nevada when Nic was in 2nd grade. They took a few Polaroids. The second visit before we left town was met with donor on the couch. (Gee, thanks for giving me the heads up that my son is about to meet his donor with no preparation.)
That was the first and only time that donor and son ever met.
I recall he took Nic out onto the playground as I waited nervously – he introduced him to everyone as his son and then showed him his DJ equipment at his apartment (same complex).
That was it.
I left town and never saw him again. Never pressed for child support. Never contacted him. He made it very clear he did not want to be a father – so be it.
Now, his mom not only unfriended me … but blocked me. And that ticked me off.
It’s one thing to be a deadbeat dad, but what grandparent doesn’t want to know their grandchild?!?!
If a girl came to me holding a baby and saying it was my sons child – I’d have quite a chat with Nic. Did you have sex with this girl? If so – then there IS a chance this is your child. If you do not believe that to be the case, initiate tests to determine the truth. If it is your child, step up and provide for that child. Emotionally and financially.
Was there ever a conversation about Nic between them I wonder?
So I’m sore about being ‘dissed’ by grandma. Nic says he’ll find him and we start searching the net. He announces “I FOUND HIM!” My boy is a funny guy … on his ipad, in the google search box were just the words “Dead Beat Dad”. Ha ha.
I entered his name … and did find him.
It wasn’t until I saw his smiling, carefree face that I realized how angry I still am.
Not only smiling and carefree, but evidently quite the avid fisherman now (AND reviewing expensive rods and reels on Amazon. That’s just super that you have extra money to spend on your hobby there champ!)
Here is the photo: He’s on the left
I wanted to punch him in the face. I wanted that fish to suddenly pull a Monty Python “I’m not dead yet!” and bite his pointing finger off.
The frustration that I feel seeing him enjoying his life when he walked away from his responsibilities is beyond my ability to describe.
I have been angry a lot of today.
I have to stop – drop and roll. No, that’s for something else …
I have to stop. Breathe. Look at fact.
- I chose not to pursue financial assistance from this man, knowing Nic’s life would be better for not having him in it
- It is donors loss not knowing Nic
- I don’t know if his life has been easy or enjoyable from 1 photo
- I don’t know that he wasn’t eaten by that fish …
What I do know is I have more forgiving to do. Because I’m not there yet on this one.
On a happy note – Nic isn’t phased by any of this. I don’t know where he gets his resilience, but I’m glad he has it. I also hope he has bail money should I ever bump into donor in the future.
Posted on May 7, 2013, in Humor, Motherhood and tagged dead beat dad, motherhood, parenting, paternal grandmother, paternal grandparents, resentment., single mom, unfriending. Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.