Moved On

Chi called her father last night.  While she was talking to him, she innocently inquired “who are you talking to, your mom or sister?”  The tactful, tailored, careful response?  “My friend.”  Chi accepted it without hesitation, finished the five-minute obligatory call that follows every tiny check we get (once every 4-5 months), and hung up.

It shouldn’t have bothered me… but it did.  A year after telling me to terminate and then dropping me from his life when I didn’t, he was engaged.  The chick blew up my phone leaving hateful and ugly messages like I was harassing him or something, when truth is I’ve kept a hefty distance from the reluctant donor who blessed me with a beautiful little girl and a broken heart.  Then the wedding was off in a fairly simple “Keep her away from my phone, protect my number, or it’s  changing and you’re not getting the new one.”  Since then conversations between he and I have centered, as they well should, around my princess.  I have no need to discuss personal life with him, and he’s not obligated to share his.  And yet this new news – that he has the freedom to go out and date (and the resources to do it, while I struggle to pay for uniforms and school and sitters and necessities) really pissed me off.

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