zzzzzzzz -- don't know how I could care any less about you...
Child but not married. So your irresponsibility's extend to the rest of your life, not just here...
(why am I not surprised by this,,, and was she stone cold passed out drunk when she conceived, likely)
You know, I'm going to go back to this.
It's an interesting point you bring up.
First of all, you obviously skirted over the accusation you made that implies I got her drunk and raped her, thus why while I have a child.
Seeing as how little you care about me but want to speculate about my personal life, I'll actually indulge you.
Haley and I had dated for a while and the relationship was starting to take a turn to where we both knew that we had a lot of philosophical differences that couldn't easily be reconciled. She was 21, rather sheltered and grew up in a small town and never left.
I was almost 27 and had lived in many different places and regions and had not only gone to, but graduated college (twice on two different stints).
Our world views were very different (and I'll include intelligence there.)
During a period where we tried to rekindle the romance, our daughter was conceived.
In our case, the prospect of a child actually further divided us, rather than bringing us together, and around the second trimester we both agreed that perhaps it was best if we parted ways.
I see my daughter every weekend.
Her mother met a gentleman closer to her age and has been dating him for several months now, in fact, they are now going to have a child in November, and will likely get married.
My daughter will likely have his last name, seeing as I was promised that she would have my last name the night before she was born, and then the day came to sign the paperwork and I was confronted with (in front of family and hospital staff) that indeed my daughter would carry her mother's last name until I "proved myself."
See, I work long days, I travel constantly, and when I get home, I spend several more hours doing work and talking to clients. I don't have a set schedule, I don't work a 9-5. Most days I work a 6-6 and with extra work, that can last me until 10pm or later, because without that, the company can't function.
I am not only good at what I do, I'm great at it. Clients love me, and I always meet or exceed expectations for my clients.
I also handsomely pay for the life that my daughter's mother provides for them.
Though ironically, she could not (and to this day dies not) understand that I don't have a set amount of hours I work.
But, Insta, I make it work, and balance everything.
So, continue to degrade me, call me worthless, stupid, useless, call me a drunk and even imply that I'm a rapist, but all it does is add to the your shameful ridiculousness.
And ashamed you should be.
Relay this story to your wife, along with the things (like your poetry) that you muse about, and see how appalled she would be.
Not just because you say it, or even imply it, necessarily, but you revel in it.
All that said, I truly adore our banter and exchanges. It really is entertaining to me.
I understand you don't really mean to be "that guy," it's a good bit of shtick.
But sometimes, just sometimes, you need to understand something my father once told me: "son, you've got a smart mouth and one of these days someone's going to teach you how to use it."
I await your response (though I assume it won't be thoughtful).
And if it isn't, I'll likely laugh due to the irony.