Wednesday, August 18, 2010 open letter to the Succubus.

As my earlier twitter post indicated, it's a good news/bad news thing.

Last week I get a letter in the mail.  The return address was barely obscured by the white-out, revealing a name of someone related to my lovely ex's (the aforementioned Succubus) supposed ex (the one she went up for domestic violence again on).

Turns out he fucked up (took her back in again) after she was released (back in early July).  Yeah, it's been a month and a half since she got out.  And she's JUST getting hold of me now because she wants to see her kids.  More on that in a bit.

*pausing to get and open said letter*

Oh, and she wanted me to contact her to arrange seeing the kids. Either by calling a "contact number" (because they don't have a phone) or by a *begin laughter* a letter!!! *roll on the floor laughing your ass off*

Oh, and after 2 1/2 months of nothing (except putting us on the jail visitation list) she wants to know if we can "do 'shared parenting' with 'no' 'child support.'"

(If you don't know the whole story, this alone explains why I tagged her the Succubus.)

Of course the letter ends with her usual wanting to give the kids her absent kisses and hugs.  Which i ignore, because if she's going to be inconsistent and the kids aren't asking, I'm not going to upset their applecart until I have to.

That happens on Friday.  Because she called.  And wants visitation.  So I get to unload them this weekend.

This is where we get to the good part, because it means I get a weekend of no kids.I have to work most of it, but that's not critically important.  Hours to fuck around or get to know myself a little better (or bum out watching hours of House (as I have season 2 to plow through now)) are something I really don't have, because after a day of work and kids (or just kids), I'm usually too tapped out to get anything done.  Not that I got much done during those weekends previously, but at least I could do something if I wanted.

But even before she called, I wanted to phrase a response to her constant demanding of me despite the fact it was one of the reasons she got the boot (and earned her moniker).  So I'm going to do just that.  And when her boyfriend (or fuck buddy, or victim, or whatever he is) comes over to talk to me (ha requested this in the phone call today), I'm going to share the following:
To my not-darling, not-beloved, ball-and-chain for another decade and a half Succubus,
After perusing yet another badly written and self-serving letter, with more requests to change things to your liking, I have to wonder if you will ever figure out why your ass got booted in the first place?  Have you successfully deluded yourself into believing some kind of fiction where you are the victim and everybody else is to blame for the massed clusterfuck that is your life?  And what makes you think you're going to actually get a concession on anything parental after yet another example of why you're barely fit to claim the name "mother?"
Specifically, I refer to your attempts to weasel out of child support when you've proven the only thing you might be good at is providing an income stream to help raise the two children you produced, primarily through deceiving me (when I was much more naive and thinking with my dick).  As I said several months ago (before you dropped off the radar for a couple of months), we could talk about it.  However, as I've had plenty of time to think, and raise my (note the pronoun is singular) children alone, I've decided we can revisit this request in the future under the following conditions:
First, you need to actually be a mother.  This means fulfilling all the expectations that your visitation rights include.  For example, seeing your kids on a regular schedule would be a start.
Second, you need to prove your ability to shoulder half the burden of raising the children.  This means getting the existing child support up to date, and maintaining both it, and employment for a reasonable period (like 2 years).  After all, if you can't even keep a fucking McJob and pay the paltry $300 per month, what makes you think you can actually afford half the costs of parenting?
Third, and most important, you need to get off the downward spiral you've put your life on.  I can't really talk to the kids about you, because the tales would be about either being a leech, or a criminal, or a whore.  Those are the experiences that I have to draw on, which requires me to be silent when talking to them.  In that sense, it would have better that you had grown sick and died, because then I could have constructed some fiction which would allow the children to remember a mother that loved them rather than the haphazard shit they witness when in your presence.
Oh, and one last thing.  I'm not sharing any benefits I get for the kids with you when I have to bear all the costs.  So get off your lazy ass and buy your own damned milk.
You know, maybe I should just print it out and mail the shit off to her.  But with her level of obtundity, I'm sure that it will just sail right past.  Plus, there's a thing about not giving away too much.

I think I might be best to articulate this shit in person....

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