An open letter to their deadbeat dad

When I met you at the im­pres­sion­able age of 16, I had stars in my eyes. Wow, I said. Look at that cute mid­dle 20’s guy drink­ing straw­ber­ry hill and smok­ing weed. Lit­tle did I know, you were a dead­beat dad to your old­er chil­dren? Lit­tle did I know, you still lived with your par­ents? Lit­tle did I know, you were im­ma­tu­ri­ty wrapped in ir­re­spon­si­bil­i­ty? I was too busy be­ing ex­cit­ed that you would want me.

I was aban­doned by my moth­er and in line to be thrown out by my fa­ther. You, be­ing 10 years my se­nior, looked like my knight in shin­ing ar­mor. My teenage re­bel­lion against au­thor­i­ty fit quite well in­to your world. Your re­fusal to ma­ture and my lack of ma­tu­ri­ty were great bed­mates. You, 26, nev­er stopped to con­sid­er that dat­ing and sub­se­quent­ly im­preg­nat­ing a 16 year old, was even the slight­est bit wrong. Of course you loved my ad­mi­ra­tion. Of course you loved my de­pen­den­cy. I was quite a tro­phy for you to flaunt. The letter continues on the next pages.