Sunday, March 30, 2008

Comedy is. . .

. . .taking your kids to the zoo, getting off the train, reading a map, the walking toward your destination - with conviction. Not funny? How about 3/4 of a mile into your walk, you discover that you have walked in the wrong direction, so you have to walk a mile uphill? Hilarious, right?

Though that's funny, that's not the point of my post.

A few weeks ago, after almost a year of silence between the kids' father and myself, I offered him the opportunity to do the right thing by his kids. On the one hand, I'm completely okay with handling business alone, however, it's Finge and the Ladybug that end up paying the cost. I considered it taking one for the team by calling him. I cut right to the chase.

"You call me for the first time in a year, and that's all you have to say to me?"

*Silence* "Well, yes."

What was I supposed to do? Ask him about the weather? Add him as a MySpace friend? (His mother already is. I don't want to talk about it.)

The good news is, we seem to have come to some sort of understanding. The bad news is, we now have a cordial relationship. Once he felt comfortable with the fact that I was not sending knee breakers to his home, he got in the confessing mood. He chose to share with me the fact that he still finds himself "reaching for [insert my ENTIRE given name here]." *SCREEEEEEEEEEEEECH*

See, little shit like that is the precise reason I like to keep our relationship set to "hostile." It keeps uncomfortable conversations such as these to a bare minimum.

My first reaction to his declaration was nausea. In actuality, I was mouthing "NOOOO MANNNNNNNNN," when I got the inkling that he was going to say something of the sort. Being sick to my stomach had more to do with the fact that his saying that had the same effect as a stranger confessing such a thing. It's not flattering; just kinda creepy. It's also just a little sad, because it's been almost seven years since I walked away from that. The person he's reaching for, frankly, doesn't exist anymore.

Another day, I probably would have called him every name in the book, and went on about how he dogged me and felt some misplaced sense of vindication. But, the truth is, it's really not about any of those things. I think where I am right now is precisely where I need to be. I am so free from that part of my past, not only could I sing, but I could dance an Irish jig.

And that's just fine by me.


BLESSD1 said...

Hey....AT LEAST the kids have some tenuous relationship with their pops. You made the effort, and they won't be able to blame you for his failings as a father later. It was very big of you, Breez, and I'm very proud.

Breez said...

eh, but at what cost! lol.

all i'm saying is that if he starts calling me singing tank songs and shit, someone's getting shot.

BLESSD1 said...

You are SOOOOO estupido! LOL!