Tonight has not been a good night. I have had to comfort a sobbing daughter after some lowlife assaulted her. It is doubly sad because of the distance and the inability to simply destroy those that seek to hurt my children.
I want to use this post though to make it absolutely clear that the greatest, and hopefully the only, apology that I will ever owe my children is the ‘choice’ of their mother. I am not a great believer in the mystical determinations of mental illness, I was brought up with the policy of shrugging shit off and getting on with life, but munchausen syndrome by proxy or attention seeking as I prefer to call it is wrong on every level.
As a man I am bound to only offer comfort to my children and aggression to their foes, society frowns upon the latter and taxes the former. The state is not prepared to see muchausen by proxy as a mental illness, especially where the father is earning an income. Far better from the states point of view to leave children with a parent that is not fit to raise wind than to have to fund or assist some alternative. After all fathers are not real parents we are bread winners the worker ants, those who provide whilst others make the decisions. I am deeply saddened and horrified at what I have been compelled to allow my ex-wife to create. If ever there was an argument for sterilisation at birth that* has the winning hand.
I appreciate that this is not the usual lighthearted style of my posts and that you may even doubt why I am posting this after all what does it achieve? Well there my friend is the answer to the male of the species in the godforsaken society that we have created. As a man I have no say in my children’s welfare, health or well-being but I am expected to fund it by whatever means that I can find. In my case I am funding a failed social experiment with a half wit, incapable monster and the two most precious people in my world all because I have a penis.
I know that it may be before the watershed but let’s be clear that is the difference and the punishment for having ones genitals on the outside far outweighs any pleasure that can be derived from the arrangement I can assure you. There will be no adult conversation over what has happened because there is far more kudos to be gained by emotional outbursts and quasi aggressive social media posts. The truth, of course, is that I will comfort as best as I can, await the outcome of the stupidity that I was once married to and curse myself at every stage.
Dad: it’s not a status its a word 😦
*That was not a typo
I got to wondering today, is my relationship with food unusual. Is my view of the world strange and if it is then is it any stranger than the view of the overweight person who keeps eating? I started to consider where my relationship with the fuel of life developed, what influenced it and why it is what it is. I couldn’t actually put my finger on anything specific. My mother had no particular problems with food, she rarely ate with us as children but I don’t feel traumatised by that. My ex-wife has terrible problems with food but by the time I was married I was an adult so I don’t believe this had any affect on my relationship with food.
The oddity that started this debate was a combination of two things. I have had a very busy week this week and no opportunity to get dinner at the hotel, not a problem of course I could get room service. Well perhaps what I mean is that room service is, technically, available. Room service in most hotels is a small folder or menu but you wouldn’t believe the power that they hold over me. I will happily peruse a room service menu, I will select my desired dish but I rarely overcome the hurdle and order. The only time that I come out on top in this battle is in foreign countries but even then its rare. I have no idea why I find this so difficult, I select the food that I want and then something starts telling me that actually that is too much food. I could drop the fries and just have the sandwich couldn’t I? but if you are paying a charge you should order a meal shouldn’t you? The truth is that this debate takes ten minutes despite the fact that I know that I will not order. The menu is returned to the table and I glower at it every time that I pass.
Now that alone doesn’t make a post, there has to be something more. I left work today with a hankering for a fast food lunch, given four nights of missed dinner I guess that is no surprise. I pass through Westfield shopping centre on the way home and this has the obligatory hundred food outlets. I walked to the ground floor food hall, turned tail and returned to the station. Similarly to the room service experience I knew that this would happen, it was inevitable. The problem is the queue, I cannot queue for fast food it make me feel like some sort of lard junkie and I exit stage left.
So come on, tell me that I am not unique….
As an aside how long do you think that you can have a sandwich on credit for? It is longer than you and certainly I thought. I used to use a particular hotel in Derby when I was married but changes in projects meant that I moved on again. The last week that I was there a colleague had used the shower and ordered a sandwich rather than having to go home and return for an evening with a client. The sandwich apparently didn’t appear on my bill and so wasn’t paid for. So I started using different hotels and I split with my wife before, some two years later, returning to the Derby hotel. When I checked in the receptionist told me that they had a letter for me, she meant several letters. In fact I received no less than ten letters that had been returned “not at this address” by my now ex-wife. Yes you have guessed it, the letters were chasing me for payment of £4.50 for a sandwich. I have been less aggressively chased by credit card and mortgage companies, take note always pay for lunch!
I have given some more thought to my theories on the delightful Mother Nature and I believe it all stacks up to support my theory. Much as I hate to anger the feminist movement if we have a Mother Nature then there must be a Father Nature and so at some point my nemesis was Mrs Nature.
Now we hear nothing of Mr Nature which leads me to assume that she is now single, an ex Mrs Nature now and therefore a Ms Nature. Now that I have had time to reflect further I think I am understanding Ms Nature better.
There is no mention of Mr Nature anywhere so we can presume that theirs was not an amicable split. Far be it from me to assume that this has left Ms Nature bitter, twisted and seeking revenge well not without further evidence at least.
How does Ms Nature respond to definitive facts? She blithely ignores them and when faced with reasoned argument Ms Nature does not engage. Having taken a position that she cannot hope to defend Ms Nature’s response is to dig in and fight in the face of inevitable loss. The gains that I make and the successes that I have are inevitably met with a spiteful stab of pain.
In fact not an inch of ground is given without a battle, no assistance is given and every win that I have is considered ‘against the odds’ and a feat of defiance. The more thought I put into this the more I am thinking that, surely there can’t be another woman that hates me as much as my ex wife? That would mean I am Mr Nature.
Now if I was Mr Nature then this sheds a whole new light on the Mr(s) Smith conspiracy, perhaps it is more fundamental than my knowledge of the mysterious Dr Evil’ ship (thanks Anita). Is the shadowy Mr(s) Smith funded by Ms Nature herself, am I against the very forces of nature personified? No on second thoughts I probably just really angered Ms Nature when I smashed up her handiwork and to be fair she is a sweetheart compared to the ex wife!