Queen of Second Chances

To say that I'm the second chance queen is an understament. Anyone reading this who knows me...is scoffing. I've given Fuckface so many chances that at this point it's not fair to blame him. Not that I've ever blamed him. Well, at least not to anyone other than him. You see my boyfriend, aka Fuckface, thinks bitches like me are a dime a dozen. Chances are you don't know me, so allow me to assure you that bitches like me are absolutely not a dime a dozen. I know, I know all chicks say they are the exception but with me it's true. I'm a rare breed. A hybrid. A total product of my environment. I was a forgotten child. A child who, for all intents and purposes, slipped through the cracks. We think of kids slipping through the cracks in relation to grown ass men graduating from high school completely illiterate but that's not the only way a kid can fall through the cracks. You see, I was a daughter of no one. Shuffled between homes and wanted only out of convenience or guilt. I never really belonged to any one family. I'm not looking for sympathy and I'm not feeling sorry for myself. For the most part I had a great childhood and think of it fondly. Besides I've always hated pity and self pity even more. What I want is understanding.

My mother was young, uneducated and in an abusive relationship with my biological father who happened to be an unemployed alcoholic drug addict. My mom was caught somewhere in between not wanting me and not knowing what to do with me. So I was left with my mom's family. I ran the streets with my cousins and uncles who were all male with very limited adult supervision. I was raised with boys, by boys making me the perfect combination of boobs and beer. I like the simple things in life like a good beer, baseball, music and a good fuck. I detest drama, applying make-up more than once, crying and catty back stabbing gossip. But I love glitter, bling, tiaras, having doors opened for me and having the things I don't want to do done for me because I have big tits. Take all of that and add in my willingness to help you with your kids, help pay your bills, come home from work to make you dinner and tiddy up your house before you come home. Then throw in loyalty, protectiveness, my honesty, my ability to be open-minded and kind heart and you think you've hit the jack pot. Add in the fact that some guys would say I'm beautiful and sexy with a side of brains and wit and you found the elusive e almost perfect chick. Don't get me wrong I have my faults, which I will happily list off when asked...or when on a first date. I am happy with who I am and see no reason to hide it. With that said you'd think I was secure and woman headed on the right path. I would assume if you're a man reading this that after the beer and a good fuck comment, you pretty much zoned out. Allow me to remind you that I am still a woman with a vagina. And to quote one of my favorite superheros, "With great power comes great responsibility."

I will admit outside of the uncontrollable monthly bleeding and the whole child birth thing having a vagina is heavenly. I don't think I really need to explain why. Any homosexual or even bisexual man knows the power we women wield. But again, there is a downside. Like emotions...yuck! Feelings...double yuck!!! Because with those two things lead to tears...triple fuck you yuck!!! I HATE crying. Loathe it. Despise it! I would rather give birth again than make my ugly crying face and become a total emotionally worthless sack of glitter.

Yesterday was Mother's Day. FF woke up before me and didn't return until mid afternoon. He then left around 4 and didn't return home for a couple of hours. Not only did he not wish me a Happy Mother's Day but he also didn't bother with buying me anything. Not even a cheap $5 bouquet of half dead grocery store flowers. Now I understand there are a lot of men and women who don't put much stock into that day. I get it. However I'm a single mom of two boys who works her ass off to make sure they never suffer the repercussions of being in a single parent home. Neither one of their father's appreciate the fact that I work hard to raise their boys to be good kids or that I am doing my best to raise them to be the men they even aren't. I know I'm a mom and that raising my kids and all that is my job...my responsibility but have you seen the news lately? Picked up a newspaper? There are moms everywhere beating their kids, drowning their kids, throwing them off bridges onto the freeway, leaving them to be cared for by people who hurt them, moms who are out chasing dick, doing drugs, drinking themselves into a coma, etc. I should at the very least get a, "Hey, Happy Mother's Day. Thanks for not being a crack whore." text. But I don't get that. What I have gotten is a custody suit slapped in my face because the fucker doesn't want to pay child support. Nice, huh??!? When I first met FF he called me on the very rare occasion where I was crying. He asked me what was wrong. So I went into the whole tirade about how my boy's dads didn't say anything to me on Mother's Day. He apologized and that was that. Later that day I received flowers from him as a belated Happy Mother's Day gift. And the flowers where even purple, my favorite color! I was touched. Which leads me to the whole "Queen of Second Chances" thing. I was asked today why I was still with him. I didn't have answer. So I was asked if I had a picture of him. I showed FF's picture to her. Her next question was, "How did he get you?!?!??" Simple. There was a time when Fuckface wasn't Fuckface. A time when he was a man. A kind man. A man that appreciated me. A thoughtful man. Where that man went?? I don't know. I've given him chance after chance hoping that the man I fell in love with would return. I now see my mistake in being a forgiving woman. That seemingly harmless mistake. A mistake that would be considered a gesture of goodwill and love has cost me dearly. It's ultimately cost me the respect of man who once liked and even loved me.

Fuck second chances.