Baby Boomers

I’ve been pondering something today.

It’s terrible when a father or mother up and leaves. Just disappears out of their child’s life. Especially if the remaining partner can’t take care of the child properly, through personal ability or finances.

But what can be equally terrible is if the partner stays when they want to leave. Or raises you when they didn’t want to.

There is nothing quite like being raised by someone who resents you, who doesn’t want you, who thinks of you as a burden.

My father is a late baby boomer and incidentally, the youngest of his family. The baby.

He’s always had a sense of entitlement. What about me? What about the things I deserve to have? I deserve a hot wife, nice cars, a big house, and the envy of all the other he-men out there.

Whoops, married the wrong woman off the get-go. Shit, we’re having a kid. I don’t really want to deal with this. What about the things I deserve? Oh shit, found myself a younger blonde hotty. Time to skedaddle and have all the things I deserve. Bye first wife, enjoy raising the kid! Oh yeah btw, don’t ask for alimony or child support, that’ll get in the way of my dream life.

My mother is a helpless fool, who allowed my dad to have his way in the divorce out of “niceness.” My father is a selfish narcissistic fool without a single shred of self-awareness.

And my childlike mother couldn’t provide for me or herself. She had a bachelor’s degree. She could have done something for herself, for me, but worked minimum wage packing plant jobs. She packed guns once. I remember being around 6-7 (not too long after the divorce) and her bringing me to work, stowing me in an office, and telling me I had to stay there. Of course, being a child, I got bored and wandered around in a gun packing plant. I remember the employees joking around with me, and one of them had Doom installed on one of the PCs in the factory. They didn’t let her bring me back to the plant after that. After, she left me at the pentecostal “daycare” House of Pain.

She couldn’t cut it, couldn’t hack it. My father, enjoying his wonderful life with his hot blonde waifu, found his dreams cut short again. Gosh darn it, the kid wasn’t supposed to interfere with my awesome second marriage and perfect life. Ugh, and she’s weird and my hot new wife doesn’t like her. Well, my hot wife can treat her how she likes if it keeps her happy.

Fack him. Fack her. I can’t wait until they both kick it. I will make water on their graves. I really thought for a while my stepmother was going to shuffle off this mortal coil. Early entries on this blog, back at the very beginning, describe the malicious glee I felt when I learned she was addicted to alcohol, painkillers, and eventually spray paint. Magnificent waves of glee, hearing about the person who treated me like a freak and a burden suffer. Seeing my dad’s “perfect” life fall apart from afar and reveling in it. I felt bad for my half sister, but that about sums it up.

The joy I felt at their issues is a holy, clean, deserved joy. I could almost believe in god or karma looking at what has happened to my father and stepmother.

He’ll never pull his head from his rear. He’ll never apologize, because he has done nothing wrong. He’s a saint, and anything bad that happened to me he can explain off, defer the blame to other people. My mother does have a hand in this, in that because she couldn’t get her shit together, I had to suffer. Foisted upon people who didn’t want me and who barely tolerated my presence, whose reaction to any complaint was “WELL I FEED AND CLOTHE YOU AND PUT A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD. WHEN I WAS A BOY I HAD TO CUT A SWITCH FROM THE YARD AND THEN I GOT BEATEN SO YOU CAN’T HAVE IT TOO BAD.”

Well, guess who’s going to die alone in a nursing home, Daddy?


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