I remember...
I'm one of those people who are blessed (or perhaps cursed) with remembering vividly the details of every sordid affair I've had. I remember when you worked with me at that store. I remember the sneaky glances, and when I'd catch you, you'd quickly look away shyly. I remember that you were seeing somebody, not that it stopped me. I remember fixing your car multiple times. I remember going to pick you up at unreasonable hours because the same car had failed... AGAIN.

I remember most of all the way you pushed me away when you discovered you were pregnant. Nine months passed, and I was not even considered as a part of the life of this new person. Nevermind that you, me, nor your boyfriend (maybe husband now?) know who the actual father of this beautiful little girl is. You will continue to lie, assuring your companion that she really is his daughter.

I may never know for sure if she is my daughter. That hurts more than knowing she is and being denied. At least in those circumstances I could justifiably be angry with you. The way things sit now, if I feel angry towards you, I feel like a fool, and that I should instead be angry with myself. I remember her name, even though I've never met her. Friends keep me updated, since you won't. She's adorable, smart, and quite honestly... looks like the product of our lust.

I remember that in about 16 years, when she's legally an adult, that I must find her, and offer the option to discover who her father is.

Finally, I remember that should she decline the opportunity, it's likely because her mother is a crazy, spoiled twunt.
(Floz Nietsnezolf doesn't have photoshop, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 16:17, Reply)