And now I’m ready to go postal on the fucker. It started off innocently enough…
My dad just called me at work to discuss Easter plans. Somehow I ended up speaking with his fiancee and she just about glurged me to death: “Oh, I am so glad to talk to you and I feel like you are my own daughter and I love you and you are always welcome here anytime and we miss you and I feel honored that you would share this with me and you are so much like my own daughter and BLAH BLAH BLAH PUKE” for 15 min.
This sets me off. You know what? I’m getting really fucking tired of the “guilt trip” calls, lady. “Why do you never come over? You can ask if you ever need anything. Your dad misses you. I love you like you are my own child, why don’t you call me back? The only thing wrong with the engagement party is you weren’t there, everyone was asking where the groom’s son and daughter were and they wanted to meet you…” YEAH. Problem with the stupid fucking engagement party is they told us about it only a week prior, and I was already slated for months to be at an event out-of-state during that time. You don’t just wipe your out-of-state plans because jack-ass absent dad and his new floozie decide to suddenly have that party they’ve been putting of since last fucking November, especially when dad didn’t see fit to announce the engagement to us in an honest and straightforward manner in the first place… (side rant: found out from a fucking VIDEO that dad was engaged. Last Thanksgiving, bro and I are watching a tape of this presentation dad gave. In addressing the audience, he introduced the woman we thought was merely his girlfriend as his “fiancee”…bro and I did double-take and after the tape said: “Ummm, dad, is there something you’ve been meaning to tell us?” Dad just shrugged his shoulders and said in a self conscious, overly-loud tone: “Yeah, well, you know, SHIT HAPPENS…”)
Dad, you were never fucking there when we needed you most. In fact, you called maybe once a year for the past 7 years until you met this woman you are about to marry. As a result, I grew into a strong-willed and self-reliant individual that does not desire nor require a “father figure” in my life. I work and I go to school, I’m almost never home, and my remaining time is divided between sleep and spending time with people I actually enjoy being around. No, I don’t call you. But I don’t really call my closest friends either. Quit your fucking boo-hooing and stop feeling like you’re the loving father victimized by a too-busy, uncaring daughter. The current state of relations between us is a direct result of your alcoholism, vindictiveness, and years of abusing/neglecting your family. Joining a non-denominational Christian church, finding a woman so emotionally dependent that she’s willing to marry you, and waking up one day realizing that you’re sad and alone and you don’t even know your (now adult) children is not an incentive for me to drop everything and make amends with you, especially since 1) you’re till in denial about the shitty way you treated us, and 2) that hardly qualifies as a fucking apology. For you to expect me to be completely understanding, forgiving, and loving now that you’ve realized you’re something of a shithead is completely asinine. As far as I’m concerned, the only sympathy you’re going to find from me is in the dictionary, right between “shit” and “syphilis.”
Thank you. That is all.