If I was going to send a card to the puppet for Fathers’ Day, I wouldn’t scrawl the lying, bullshit rhetoric that he wrote on the last Mothers’ Day card he sent to me.
I would say this:
Never once did I walk into a room and see one of my children sitting on your lap. Never once did I walk into a room and see one of my daughter’s feet on top of yours, feeling like a “big girl…dancing with daddy.”
Never once did I see you and my son, sitting together, talking about what it means to be a real man. I do remember you telling me that the only advice your daddy ever gave you was “try to do the right thing.” (You obviously didn’t pay attention.)
Never once did we sit around and talk about the day our daughters got married and had children. I guess that’s why they were so surprised when they asked me if there was “a bridal fund.” They paid for their own weddings. (Maybe you were using that money to pay somebody elses’ taxes and tuition.)
Never once did you come home, greet me with a hello kiss and ask “where are the children?” (They could have been dead in their beds and you would have never noticed until they started to smell.) As long as they weren’t fighting, you could have cared less where they were.
The only time I saw you concerned about one of your daughters was when #2 was asked to go to the prom. Her date was Hispanic. The more you drank and talked to our friend, the more worried you got.
When our friend asked what was wrong with him, you said “we’re talking about a machismo, big-dick spic.” He shook his head…and I left the room.
Later, when I confronted you, I got the usual disgusted look and the “walk away.”
Even though she was the one you called your “precious” it didn’t stop you from slapping her, or screaming that you weren’t “the fucking weatherman” or calling her a “selfish little bitch” did it?
You taught them that when “daddy’s drunk” he can do and say anything he wants to and get away with it. You taught them that almost everything could be dealt with by drinking. (I guess you learned that from your mama.)
You taught me that fatherhood to you, meant that I took care of them. Fatherhood to you, meant that you earned the money. Fatherhood to you, meant that I was a brood mare and they were my brood. How many times did you tell me, when I whined about being left alone all the time…”that’s what the money’s for?”
For us, there was no such thing as “family vacations.” There were only “daddy vacations.” You never took us anywhere but you sure took your “other women” places…fun places…and you (I’m sure) had FUN!
You taught my son that his daddy didn’t have time to “talk to him.” You only had time to yell and scream at him and call him a “worthless pieces of shit.”
So…Happy Fathers’ Day to you!
The man who always put himself first.
The man who is a liar and a cheater.
The man who is a bully and a coward.
The man who wrote: “I am SO proud that you are the mother of MY children.”
Aw…let me reciprocate. I ABSOLUTE DESPISE THAT YOU ARE THE FATHER OF MINE.
I think I would have rather had my children by an “average Joe.” A man who would come home and play with his children. A man who loved his wife and wanted to spend time with her. A man who wasn’t selfish. A man who thought there were more important things in life than money and power and position. A REAL MAN. We might not have had much money but would we have been rich with love…something that you only had for your fucking mama and daddy….and your “other women.”
A real man…you are not…and never will be…but happy fathers’ day anyway, you absolute horror of a human being.