To The Other Woman

previously posted on Original Bunker Punks

Dear Woman I Will Never Confront,

We’ve known each other for three years now. Over the last six months, I’ve realized that we do not have anything in common, except that our kids like each other. What I have to say has nothing to do with that, though.

You try to act like one of the “guys.” You say you’re a tomboy. I get that. I don’t wear pink, either. (Really, that’s all you got?)

Honestly, you’re just not happy in your marriage. You have low self esteem from a bad childhood and a crappy relationship. I get that. But I wish you’d understand.

He’s mine. And I’m not sorry.

I’m not sorry that you’re husband treats you like it is 1960. I’m not sorry that he lets his creepy friends hit on you. I’m not sorry that you didn’t get to come over on New Year’s because he went to the bar and left you at home. I’m not sorry that you scrounge for money for birthdays and Christmas because his money is his money and your money is his money.

I pity you. I’m not heartless. However, all of the above is your problem. There are many solutions (but you may not like any of them).

Above all, stop.

Stop texting him lyrics from love songs. Stop questioning why he doesn’t respond back. Stop being pissy because he doesn’t show you attention. Stop asking for his help. Stop.

It torments me to invite you over anymore, and pretend that you do not make my stomach churn. I can’t relax around you. You’re like the mole on my back that needs to be removed. Unfortunately, I’m afraid of needles and both are expensive.

I trust my husband. Unquestionably. He’s a catch. I married him. I do not like to share. I should not have to.

~J

P.S. You don’t say “I love you” to your married, guy “friends.”

For Better or For Worse

Dear World,

He is the better parent. Honest. I'm not trying to spit shine his shoes.

I see my faults often. I don't think anyone else sees them but me (well, they don't say anything).

He is the player. The go-getter. The drive 7 hours by himself, with both boys, to another state doer. He is the one that suggests to sign them up for #allthethings. He is the one they miss the most at the end of the day.

I try and I question. I love my children. Which makes me an okay parent. He does and he is. Which makes him a great parent.

I think 26 would've been a better age. That is when we had Mr. Sunshine. Our finances are linked to that year. We were on our feet. Both of us were working. Mr. 12 (6 at the time) was in school all day.

I didn't factor kids into the picture. I didn't want to have them in the sense I didn't plan on having kids in my teenage mind. It was filled with, honestly, no ideas. No goals. Just a bit of indifference and a lot of questions.

Then we were stupid. (Seriously, there isn't another word to put here.) 

I was too young. But I was only 19. Not really that young. He was younger. Yet, older.

And I slipped. And he pulled me out of the water, no matter how many times I screamed at him to leave me alone. Yet, he stayed. Often, on the other side of a door.

He is the better parent. He is the better person. I have no idea why. Of our two childhood's, he had the worst one. He didn't have many role models. He just knew what he wanted. He'd become a parent again if I said yes. Many times over.