Here we go then...
Not funny, just sad, I'm afraid.

Mother of my child, she is. I'll let the story tell you.

We get together, couple of months later she's 'got' pregnant. Although I know she was supposed to be taking the pill, I'm quite pleased (always wanted kids anyway) and supportive and promise to stick by her cos my (apparently old-fashioned) morals tell me I should. The back of my mind sends massive messages forwards saying "Get out! Get out!" but I ignore it in favour of the 2.4 children idea.

She gets a scan, it's twins. I'm stunned, but fundamentally quite pleased.

A couple of months later she takes me to one side and says "I've lost the twins." Sad, yes, but immediately followed by "But it's ok, I'm pregnant again!"

So she'd had a miscarriage, not told me, carried on sleeping with me to get pregnant again, then told me all in one big Mohammad Ali-style punch of a statement during my lunch from work. My subconscious pages me again, but I put it on Do Not Disturb.

Things start to go to shit, in a big way. She starts telling lies, small ones at first, then bigger and bigger. I start suffering from depression. She refuses to work, so I support her through her pregnancy with the IT job I've already had for three years. We move house, she gets a dog (at the time, I ffuckking hated dogs). She starts fights, seemingly just to have them. I hate fights, and they push me deeper into depression. Arguments happen virtually every night, never agreeing on anything. We fight, verbally, mentally and physically a couple of times. General unhappiness ensues for both of us.

I get generally angry and sometimes drunk, not a good combination. I start to lose the plot. We have the baby, and things settle down for a few months, but start to deteriorate again soon. I end up out of my mind with worry, things degrading rapidly at work and with my friendship group, and generally being cack.

It takes me almost exactly a year from my daughter's birth to finally plucking-up the courage to end the relationship and, thus, daily meetings with my daughter.

After we split, she went out with a friend of mine, got 'pregnant', split up, had another 'miscarriage', met someone else, got pregnant within a couple of months, had the child and they stuck together until just recently, having another child together, then they split up and she's buggered off to the other side of the country with our daughter, who I haven't seen for six months, and their kids.

In retrospect, she was pregnant when I met her, by her old boyfriend. She was sixteen when I met her, I was twenty-one. It was a major recipe for disaster but I was young and niave and... well, stupid. But I wouldn't ever wish we hadn't had my daughter, who is the most beautiful, happy, bright and attentive child anyone could ever wish for.

This was all eleven years ago. I'm not saying I'm an angel, and that I did nothing wrong during the time of our relationship, but this girl ffuckked me up. And she doesn't even know it.

[edit] Almost forgot, she faked ME, or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, telling me and her family that the doctor had definitely told her that's what she had. She had sudden moments of weakness, especially when the subject of getting a job came about. Fnarf.
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Thu 23 Nov 2006, 16:03, Reply)