[ An aside: my ex is a pretty private person, and doesn’t share his business on these interwebs, which means I really don’t run a serious risk stumbling across some shit that’ll hurt my feelings. Unless I go fishing and deep-sea diving — stalking, that is; but that ship has sailed. Anyway. ]
It’s been almost four years since we broke up, which means it’s been almost four years since I’ve seen him. But yo, I still love this man.
That said, being connected to him on social media makes me feel a semblance of closeness to him — even though we’re thousands of miles apart. You’d think that the four years we’ve been apart would be time enough to get over the shit he put me through. And, to a certain extent, it did. However, since his messy ass behavior resulted in a child, this will never truly be over. And that’s okay; I’ve made my peace with it. Hell, I hope to meet the little guy one day. But, I digress.
But, social media. And, inadvertent petty.
As I was browsing my Facebook feed, I came across this post that my ex shared (he didn’t create the post, it’s just shared from something he liked on Instagram):
A post shared by derrickgra
Ok. So this. I know I sound like a bitter bitch, but fuck all of this right here. As it relates to my ex’s current situation, that is. My ex has children from previous (legitimate) relationships, who are grown/nearly grown. In that context, the sentiments of this meme are beautiful. I dig it.
However.
As I reflect upon his situation, as the father of a four-year-old who was conceived from a meaningless hook-up (with a basic ass Becky who fetishizes Black dick), that destroyed me, fuck this.
Should the way his son was conceived have any bearing on his love for him? Of course not. I am not suggesting that. But, the messy, bitter, self-centered bitch in me is wondering how in the fuck he could read this meme and reflect on the privilege and gift of fatherhood that resulted in the destruction of another person (um, me).
His stat has absolutely nothing to do with me. Shit, he has no allegiance to me anymore. That said, I am deeming it inadvertently petty (Which is crazy, because he is the least petty person I know. Messy? Yes. Petty, nah). But, the petty in me, recognizes how petty some shit like this has the potential to be.
This all says several things to me:
I am not as “over” this situation as I thought I was;
I am messy as fuck;
I am petty as fuck;
I need to get over myself.
I. I. I. I. Me. Me. Me. Me. Sounds about right. Anyway.
I don’t think my ex reads this blog, so this is in no way a subliminal or passive-aggressive dig at him. The rational me knows that my thoughts and feelings about this are dumb and irrational.
I don’t want my ex to have residual feelings of regret when he looks at his son. I really don’t. The little guy didn’t ask to be here.
Fuck.
Time to go meditate with my selenite wand. My chakras are all the way fucked up.
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