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When it comes to 32 year old are the father! Pt 2

Ahem! Where was I? Oh yes, kiss my ass. Over the course of my college years, I was able to obtain a car which was the key to my freedom in may areas. I could take myself to and from without dealing with other people shit (ex boyfriend, who was just as toxic, my father and even my grandmother). Me and Shelby (what I named my '97 silver Nissan Maxima with chrome rims and tinted windows) were inseparable. You couldn't tell me nothing. Shelby allowed me to visit my paternal grandmother outside the drama my father would bring and in turn, we began to form a bond so to speak. She couldn't (or wouldn't ) give me any money, but she definitely made sure I had home cooked food and an outlet to visit when campus became too much. Looking back, that was more valuable than money. I am thankful for her being able to separate herself from her son's wrap sheet. Fast forwarding, here we are May 2012!!! I am an official college graduate. All of the bullshit was worth every single moment for me to be able to shut those naysayers up. Those would unfortunately include my father. So much so, he did not bother to show up. Now you would think all the shit he talked before I even enrolled in my first class, all the shit he kept talking during my struggle to keep going, he would take this slice of humble pie and give credit where it's due. Nah! This nigga still wasn't mature enough for that. His family came to represent him in his absence I guess. This time I felt differently. I didn't need to show him I could do it without his assistance, because the proof was in the pudding. Other's can testify I did it without him for me. This is where I take a turn to the "Kiss my ass/cut off game". You ready? The following weekend, my first cousin graduates from technical school and the same crew assembles to celebrate her (minus my mama & 'nem). I know since my father couldn't (or wouldn't) come to mine, I didn't expect to see him at hers.

I enter the building with his folks, and as we are preparing to take our seats and this nigga is standing there looking country as fuck with a crooked ass half smile looking at me.

I'm sorry, WHET???? It took the blood of the lamb for me not to IKE his ass across 2 rows worth of those auditorium seats. How fucking dare you? With that familiar angry feeling, I prepared to leave. My grandmother told me not to and reminded me it was about my cousin. I'd be lying if I said my feelings weren't hurt. Here I am, again, feeling unworthy of this man's approval. Why? How come he can't just be the father I need him to be?

Now we?re arriving to the stage of "Fuck it" After that day, I realized my father isn't going be what I need him to be, he is who he is. I had to really accept that I would have to live with the fact that never be what I need, but I had a choice. I can accept him for the man he is or I can cut him off and love him from a distance. I decided to do a combination of both. I dealt with my portion of the emotional side effects and understood parents are growing up also. He just got stuck somewhere between teenager trail and young adult avenue. I now am to the point of not trying to change or save anyone from themselves. I have reached the patch of peace with where we are or where we will ever be. I even got him a Father's Day card (which I haven't done in over a decade). Moral of the story, men (fathers, brothers, boyfriends, husbands, baby daddy's, etc) are slow at growing up and understanding it's not all about them. So if you feel it in your spirit, give the nigga a chance (but not too many).

😘Until next week,


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