Having an alcoholic parent is one of the most frustrating things. Unlike my trauma stuff, there isn’t really an end to this… until he dies.
I received a call from him on Tuesday this past week. He was heavily intoxicated and was calling to tell me that his coworker wants to leave his wife and kids to be with me. What the actual fuck?!
Last I checked, I had my own spouse and kid. And while things are not always perfect, I have no intentions of leaving my family to go be with some mechanic who is friends with my alcoholic sperm donor. Fucking gross.
Well, apparently my dad has no recollection of having that conversation with me. Today is Saturday. I’m on a subway in NYC and I get a voicemail from him. He tells me all of the same things in his voicemail that he told me on Tuesday night:
- He’s starting a second job soon
- He wants to know how my job is going
- His coworker wants to leave his family and be with me
On one hand, at least he fucking calls me. My mom doesn’t. My mom acts like she doesn’t give a shit about me. But on the other hand, it would be really nice to have a dad who can at least remember the conversations we have. It would be even better to have a dad who doesn’t want me to leave my family to be with his gross coworker 😫
In other news: I fucking love NYC. I will post a big blog telling you all about it when I return home 💜