I’ve decided there is something seriously wrong with my ex. It all started about a week before our son’s 13th birthday…
Our son proclaimed, “Dad’s depressed. He’s always sad. And he talks about how much he misses you.” Oh boy. When the ex gets into these modes, he usually becomes nasty and/or crazy for a while. I guess in this case, he became a little of both.
Since my ex states he gets about 500 e-mails a day, he often claims he doesn’t see my e-mails, putting me in the position of having to talk to him on the phone, which I hate. During one of our conversations, he states I sent him an e-mail telling him he could have our son overnight on his birthday. Yeah. Right. I’m going to give up time with my kid on his birthday, a night where he’s supposed to be with me (according to our decree)? I think not.
I explained, no, I told him he could have him for a few hours. The conversation dissolved into an argument, he started insulting me about my supposed large ass, and then he hung up.
Finally, in an e-mail later (one he actually decided to read), he said he’d take our son from 7:00PM to 9:30 PM on his birthday. He’d pick our son up from my house and I’d come get him afterward from his house. After all this crowing and posturing, the guy didn’t even show up. At about 7:30, he sends son a text message, “Am I supposed to come pick you up?”
You’ve got to be kidding me. Since he was already late and wasting time, I told him I’d meet him in a local grocery store parking lot half-way in between our homes. When our son got out of the car, the following conversation took place:
Me: P, I am going to pick son up from your house at 9:30 PM. I just want to make sure there’s no confusion. Do you understand?
P: Yep.
Me: Are you sure? I want to make sure you’re going to be home at 9:30 PM when I come over to pick son up.
P: Yes.
At 9:20, I get a call on my cell phone. P doesn’t remember if he’s supposed to drop our son off, or if I am supposed to pick him up. Needless to say, this scared our poor kid. “Dad! Mom told you she was picking me up at 9:30! Don’t you remember?”
Now, I don’t know if the guy’s just gone off his rocker, or if he really is ill, but something’s definitely wrong. And if nothing’s wrong, he’s playing a very sad, immature game where the only one who is going to get hurt is our kid. And I hate that idea.