Dear John~Irritated

Dear John,

Again, nothing you do surprises me.  I just roll my eyes and continue on with life.

You see, before dinner, Tesla pulled out all the “cool stuff” from her book bag.  Arts and crafts and several books.  After dinner she pulled out her school papers and was satisfied she was done sharing what she felt was important.

I went through what was left and what do I find? “Telsa’s” parent contacts listing.  My name was nowhere to be found, but Heather and her husband are both listed for their children.  I also noticed your new email address.  Yet when I asked for a personal email you didn’t have one.  Just send it to work and when LaDonna checks my email she will let me know.  Why would you want LaDonna reading all our emails?

Now Tesla keeps telling me her neck hurts and she has a large black and blue mark on her arm.  Oh, and that she ran into you riding the little 4-wheeler then fell off.  All I asked her was what was making her neck hurt.  I don’t think she was making it up as she was very specific about where it happened in the yard and how she hit you.

Thanks for ignoring my texts messages.

That didn’t surprise me either,

~P.

Comments

  1. Anonymous says:

    Hey Dear Heather, Miss I didn’t give birth to Tesla, how the hell did you suddenly get on a parental contact form for the child. YOU are NOT the child’s parent and the sooner you realize this the sooner I believe the PARENT’S of this child can actually start properly parenting this child properly. Butt your ass out of this and things might actually start going a lot easier. It’s either that or I see a hell of a lot of court in your future. Gosh, I’ve never met you and you really annoy the hell out of me.

    Dear John, How I wish this was a proper Dear John letter but we are not that lucky. Anyways, someday I suppose there are of those of us who will be lucky enough to see you in the depths of hell but until then perhaps you might want to explain the bruises on your daughter to the state since you seem to be unable to properly communicate with her MOTHER, Pattie. That imbred, unueducated douchebag you choose to park your penis in at the moment is not Tess’s mother. I would seriously suggest you start communicating properly with Pattie or you are going to find yourself in a spot that is far below the rock and the hard place you are getting pretty darn close to. Pattie has more support than you know and when it all rallies up you might find yourself in court losing a battle you never wanted in.

    I mean really, Let’s be honest here, your face is getting out there, your name is pretty uncommon, you have it plastered all over your vehicle. People talk. We know who you are. You can’t hide forever. Once an ass, always an ass.

    • For the record…..Heather is not listed as Tesla’s parent. Just John. Heather and her husband are listed as their children’s parents. Either John or Heather decided Tesla only needed him listed in the directory. It is blatant that my name was intentionally kept off the list as Tesla’s mom.

      No matter what, John thinks he can erase my existance in Tesla’s life.

      Thank you for your comment!

      ~P.

  2. Dear Douchebag:

    It must be a living hell for you to constantly overcompensating for your ridiculously controlled reality. It must also be very distressing to conveniently erase people from your life like a stray pencil mark on a test. Further, it must be incredibly difficult for you to maintain the title of Douchebag as it seems that you work so very hard to keep it. All the while, you fiddle around getting a divorce because you know that the judge is going to anally rape the fuck out of you, you cheating son of a bitch.

    While I can easily understand the discomfort of having a child with someone you would rather no longer see, it is not excusable behavior to erase that person from your child’s life. Why, here is Pattie, who for some unknown reason (though quite possibly temporary insanity) had sex with you and your sperm fertilized her ovum, has decided to keep the world’s largest Douchebag (Yes, that would be YOU) in her child’s life even though she would rather you be recycled like used plastic. The very fact that she can stomach you or your Douchenozzle Slut Ho Bag qualifies her to sainthood in several miscellaneous denominations. An accomplishment you will never get to enjoy because you’re too busy discovering that Tab A fits into Tab B.

    Not only are you a bad parent to this young girl, your Douchenozzle is too. Once Pattie is on her feet with a degree and a job or Tesla becomes old enough to choose not to live with you or your growth, you will learn the painful truth that all of your hard work to keep her isolated from someone who is parent material unlike you is fruitless. Pattie will get a big person job unlike your little boy playing with trucks job that barely affords you enough extra money for another bitch on the side.

    How tragic it is that your definition of love is actually possession and not nurturing, unconditional, or rationally healthy. I am deeply saddened that in the time you will have custody of this little girl you will only play her as trophy of your accomplishments, even though you didn’t do anything except release sperm to fertilize an egg. You will keep your trophy house, your trophy car, your trophy children, your trophy wife, your trophy mistress, and your trophy life as a testament to your imagined importance and highly overrated egotistical fantasy that you might resemble a real man. You are not a real man, you are a little boy playing adult using all the people around you to your own end. Real men love their children more than anything and are open to co-parenting with the child’s biological parent. Real men don’t play company while banging the next drunk slut out of the bar. Real men make mature decisions, pay their bills, and are responsible adults in every way.

    You sir, fail as a father, as a man, and as an adult as you are only interested in what’s in it for you. One day, when you find yourself an old person alone and hoarding solo cups and pizza boxes, you’ll see that you were and always have been a huge, dumb ass, douchebag.

    Have a nice day.

    Meishayuri

Go ahead...take a swing. I'll duck and listen.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: