You and your obese slob of a husband like to pretend that you hold the moral ground because you live in your little cul-de-sac, and you love to project that I am some kind of low-life deadbeat because of my financial struggles. Well, let’s examine a few facts:
First, how about the years, yes years, the two of you sneaked around behind my back with your phone calls, emails, text messages, cards, and gifts. You left behind quite the pile of evidence after you left. Doesn’t your bible have something to say about coveting another man’s wife? Or did my simple mind miss some clause exempting you two? For years, you lied to me about your involvement with him, swearing he was just a friend, and me, in my sincerest naivety not wanting to be the kind of insecure man who refused his wife male friends, believed your lies. Doesn’t your bible say something about uttering untruths? Or again, did my simple mind miss something? Perhaps, just perhaps, you two aren’t as moral as you like to pretend. Knowing what I know now, if I were your husband today, I would keep a close eye on your online interactions and be quite wary of who you call a friend.
And how about the pretty little lies you told me at the beginning of our divorce? Do you remember assuring me you would never ask for child support? Do remember your smugness in saying that he had plenty of money and didn’t need any of mine? Oh yes, you said that. And from that lie, I agreed to certain provisions in the decree in exchange for your guarantee that I wouldn’t have to pay child support. Of course, the moment the divorce was finalized, any chance of annulment or revision gone, you and fat boy went back on that guarantee. And while I was at my lowest, most desperate moments, you slapped me with contempt of court papers. At a time when I was living off peanut butter and little else, you and your slothful troll in your country club home hounded me for money.
You two love to paint me as some kind of scumbag because I struggle financially every month. I would love to introduce you to a few mothers who deal with true deadbeat fathers to their children, men who not only don’t pay child support but have nothing to do with them. You have been paid early every month for five consecutive years and are current for six years, and you cannot even begin to conceive the sacrifices I have to make in my daily life to ensure that money is paid. You and the hefty gnome could not survive on what I have left over after paying for the children’s insurance and support, but I make do the best I can, so go fuck your self-righteous judgmental bullshit. I have six years worth of phone records proving my involvement with my children, and they look forward to their time with me. They know me, and I’m a permanent part of their lives. If you attempt to restrict that time any more than it already is, we will pursue a new parenting plan that is far more equitable.
You love to throw out the time the boys got into poison ivy and the one time Collin picked up pink eye and whatever virus or bacteria that was, as if I intentionally made him sick. How about all the times they’ve gotten sick with you? Fat ass bringing home viruses from airplane flights, Collin missing 30+ days of school for strep, them coming up here this last trip so sick they could barely function. I’ve never thrown that in your face because I understand that people get sick, especially kids and even more especially kids who aren’t exposed enough to the world at large. The vast majority of the time the boys are with me they return to Florida safe, happy, and healthy, so how fucking dare you pretend like I don’t take excellent care of my children.
Now, you and that fat sack of cowardly shit hide behind a web of laws that cripple me at every turn. Your lies and deceits pushed me into an imbalanced, unjust system that punishes fathers. I’m sure in your diseased minds you believe your own self-righteous bullshit, but you cannot honestly say with a straight face that there is any justice or equality in what the two of you have done to me, leaving me to scratch out an existence on less than $400 a week. But hear me and hear me well, your pathetic little apology was far too little far too late. I had tried to let go of the hatred for you and that slothful, self-righteous sack of useless blubber, but this time was the final straw. You provoked me. Your greed and selfishness brought all my hatred and disdain for both of you back to the surface. Now, you had best prepare for the gathering storm.