Baby Boy

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Taking a little break away from Project: Love Thyself, I have something I wanna talk about. We all knew it was coming. I was looking for it I guess. Counting the days, secretly stalking like good old social media lets us…

Big Love had a baby. He had a baby boy.

I knew she was pregnant, the girlfriend I mean. I spoke about it a while ago. She changed her profile picture to a heavily pregnant one of her and it was oh so clear. I’d already had my suspicions of course, little things she’d ‘liked’ on Facebook for example. Hey, if you want to leave your profile that open, it’s just begging to be stalked. That’s all I’m saying.

(I know I’m nuts. Hence Project: Love Thyself. Recovery in process.)

He announced it on Instagram as though it was the birth of his first child. He ‘became a father’ that day. Instantly I saw red. I saw red because he’s a cunt. He already has one baby – a girl. She’s probably about 8 or 9 years old now. Something around there. But he already has a baby. He didn’t become a father recently, he became a father all those years ago when he had unprotected sex with a woman he got drunk with and fathered her child.

He always wanted a boy. I wonder if that’s why he didn’t stick around for the first one. Maybe that’s why my father didn’t stick around for me? I guess that’s what this all boils down to. Big Love is exactly the same as my father – a deadbeat dad, a sperm donor, a guy who did the wrong thing.

I wonder if he’ll stick around for this one? I guess he’s in a relationship with the mother this time around rather than it being just a drunken one night stand. Perhaps this kid stands a better chance of getting a decent parent? I guess we’ll see what happens.

Although I knew the baby announcement was coming, I wasn’t prepared for it. This was a man I’d moved to the other side of the world for once upon a time. This was a man I tried to nurse through a drug problem. A man I stood by through lies, cheating, days and days where he didn’t come home, thousands and thousands of dollars spent on drugs… I really loved that man. I really, really did. He was everything to me.

I don’t think I love him anymore. It’s strange when you think that just three and a half years ago I started this blog because of my breakup from him. Now I barely feel anything for him at all. I look at images of him on Instagram and I don’t get the same tug on my heart that I would have got a few years back. It doesn’t hurt so much. It doesn’t cripple me to know he’s in bed with another woman, in MY bed with another woman. I still see remnants of our relationship in the images on both of their accounts and once it hurt me to see the artwork on the walls or that $500 rug we’d fucked on more times than I care to remember. Now, it doesn’t. It just reminds me of good times, happy memories, times gone by… Chapters closed.

I guess I’m over him. The jealousy I felt seeing that beautiful photo of him with his newborn baby boy wasn’t because of him, it was because he had what I wanted. I’m glad I never had children with that man but it’s just another stabbing reminder that I’m so far away from the happy ever after. I’m not jealous she’s got my man. I’m jealous she’s got a man and she managed to keep him for long enough to have a baby with him. She’s welcome to him. I wouldn’t go back there if you paid me. Sometimes you just really do need to admit it’s more effort and hard work than it’s worth.

I just wanted to have a chat about it. He had his baby. The ex had a baby. He won that breakup war. He has a new family and I’m a single crazy cat lady.

But wait… Let’s see how long he sticks around first.




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