A break? As I recall, we were going to stay away from each other for a week because I was being too overbearing and you were feeling confined. I don’t remember actually saying ‘Lets sleep with other people’. And walking in on the two of you when you knew I was coming over to get my stuff was just that much worse. So yeah. If I want to call the home wrecker what she is I think I’m entitled.
No, No, do not blame this on me. I do my best to make sure he knows how much you love him; I don’t try to turn anyone against anyone. If I want to bitch about you I bitch to my friends. I don’t say a bad word against you, Liz, and that’s the truth. But he’s smart. He knows body language and shit, he knows how uncomfortable I am when you bring her to the door and flaunt how happy you are in my face. Like I don’t know I’m alone? Like I don’t realize how fucking happy you are? How can I not when every time you come over she’s standing there, looking for all the world like she belongs there. You belonged with me, Liz. I fucking loved you, and…Ugh. I don’t feel like getting into this. I don’t say mum about you, so I don’t know why he won’t open up. Maybe it’s because he’s not stupid, he knows what ‘affair’ means. Maybe, for once, something isn’t my fucking fault.
That was one time, and that was after twenty minutes of trying to have a reasonable conversation with you about his problems while fucking Carmen screamed down the other line about how she was going to teach Swangst what a ‘real man’ should be like. The fuck does that even mean, anyway? I’m not using my child as a weapon against you, Liz. And you know, it’s just like you to assume I was. I love that kid more then anything. If your precious Carmen is sitting there whispering in your ear about how I’m making him hate you to punish you then she’s wrong. And a bitch. And yeah, I hate her. Without her we could’ve tried to work things out. I fucking loved you. But I try my damnest not to say anything bad about her because you’re so fucking happy, and it’s not good for Swangst to see me being bitchy. But I’m not fucking perfect.
Take a nine-year old to a wedding? So I can what, force him into a suit he dosen’t want to wear and let him hear all of my relatives mutter about how it’s a damn shame but maybe I’ll be ‘normal’ now? Yeah, that’s a brillant idea. You know the only person I can stand in my family is my sister. You knew how much going to this wedding meant to me. There’s a reason we agreed that when I needed a babysitter I would call you first, then my sister, and then pay for one---Because they’re assholes. And it fucking hurts like hell to know you don’t seem to care that once and awhile I ‘d like to do something for myself. Seeing my sister married was one of them. She wanted me to give her away Liz, and I had to call her and tell her I couldn’t.
I’m pretty sure I was really nice about the whole funeral thing-I’m not a fucking monster. And Maybe I would’ve been a little less pissed about Puerto Rico if I hadn’t told you I was going to get my damn wisdom teeth pulled two months before. And I blew off that weekend because I needed to take him out to get new shoes and clothes for school, which I’d asked you to do the weekend before and you didn’t.
You did. You fucking did that time when Swangst was seven and in bed, and we had the argument about my mother's medical bills. Do not fucking come to me and say that my black eye was an accident, I swear to you I will- *long exhale*
It never fucking happened again. We were together for a full year after that and I never did it again. And I’ve apologized up and down about it since it happened. I will never, ever stop regretting that because I’m not my fucking father, and you know what? Maybe you shouldn’t have said that I wasn’t even worth the time it took to spit.
You know what most people in happy, loving relationships don’t do? Call up their ex on what would’ve been their anniversary. And then proceed on a long-winded speech that went something like ‘We were so great together, I miss you, I know you miss me, I hate seeing you alone’. And then proceed to bitch about Carmen’s lack of common sense and how she never closes the fridge door properly. I don’t need to hear that. Especially that night. I was civil because half of the time I was trying to hold back tears. I’m so alone, Liz. You rub that in my face all the time.
No, No, do not blame this on me. I do my best to make sure he knows how much you love him; I don’t try to turn anyone against anyone. If I want to bitch about you I bitch to my friends. I don’t say a bad word against you, Liz, and that’s the truth. But he’s smart. He knows body language and shit, he knows how uncomfortable I am when you bring her to the door and flaunt how happy you are in my face. Like I don’t know I’m alone? Like I don’t realize how fucking happy you are? How can I not when every time you come over she’s standing there, looking for all the world like she belongs there. You belonged with me, Liz. I fucking loved you, and…Ugh. I don’t feel like getting into this. I don’t say mum about you, so I don’t know why he won’t open up. Maybe it’s because he’s not stupid, he knows what ‘affair’ means. Maybe, for once, something isn’t my fucking fault.
That was one time, and that was after twenty minutes of trying to have a reasonable conversation with you about his problems while fucking Carmen screamed down the other line about how she was going to teach Swangst what a ‘real man’ should be like. The fuck does that even mean, anyway? I’m not using my child as a weapon against you, Liz. And you know, it’s just like you to assume I was. I love that kid more then anything. If your precious Carmen is sitting there whispering in your ear about how I’m making him hate you to punish you then she’s wrong. And a bitch. And yeah, I hate her. Without her we could’ve tried to work things out. I fucking loved you. But I try my damnest not to say anything bad about her because you’re so fucking happy, and it’s not good for Swangst to see me being bitchy. But I’m not fucking perfect.
Take a nine-year old to a wedding? So I can what, force him into a suit he dosen’t want to wear and let him hear all of my relatives mutter about how it’s a damn shame but maybe I’ll be ‘normal’ now? Yeah, that’s a brillant idea. You know the only person I can stand in my family is my sister. You knew how much going to this wedding meant to me. There’s a reason we agreed that when I needed a babysitter I would call you first, then my sister, and then pay for one---Because they’re assholes. And it fucking hurts like hell to know you don’t seem to care that once and awhile I ‘d like to do something for myself. Seeing my sister married was one of them. She wanted me to give her away Liz, and I had to call her and tell her I couldn’t.
I’m pretty sure I was really nice about the whole funeral thing-I’m not a fucking monster. And Maybe I would’ve been a little less pissed about Puerto Rico if I hadn’t told you I was going to get my damn wisdom teeth pulled two months before. And I blew off that weekend because I needed to take him out to get new shoes and clothes for school, which I’d asked you to do the weekend before and you didn’t.
You did. You fucking did that time when Swangst was seven and in bed, and we had the argument about my mother's medical bills. Do not fucking come to me and say that my black eye was an accident, I swear to you I will- *long exhale*
It never fucking happened again. We were together for a full year after that and I never did it again. And I’ve apologized up and down about it since it happened. I will never, ever stop regretting that because I’m not my fucking father, and you know what? Maybe you shouldn’t have said that I wasn’t even worth the time it took to spit.
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You know what most people in happy, loving relationships don’t do? Call up their ex on what would’ve been their anniversary. And then proceed on a long-winded speech that went something like ‘We were so great together, I miss you, I know you miss me, I hate seeing you alone’. And then proceed to bitch about Carmen’s lack of common sense and how she never closes the fridge door properly. I don’t need to hear that. Especially that night. I was civil because half of the time I was trying to hold back tears. I’m so alone, Liz. You rub that in my face all the time.
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