My dad tells this story of how he met my mom…and he thinks it’s supposed to be endearing. It just comes off as cringeworthy to me.
Essentially my dad went to a bar. Started talking to a drunk woman, and then he left. Got to his car, realized he didn’t have his car keys, and realized they must have been on the tray when he threw out his garbage/food reminants.
So he goes back into the bar, digs around in their garbage until he finds his keys, makes out with my mom, and they spend the night drinking together. Then he drives them to his house drunk, and that’s how he met my mom.
Now I don’t know if that’s the night I was concieved. They did stay together for another 6 years. They got married. But the implication seems to be that I was the result of a bar hookup because my dad is an idiot and threw away his car keys. Then my mom was somehow turned on by the sight of a man digging through the trash, that she starts making out with him.
And based on my dads age, and my age, I can conclude he was 35 years old when I was born. Which means this story likely took place when he was 34.
My mom has never told me her version of the story, and likes to pretend history never happened. She recently told me she never liked Phil Hartman, which I know for a fact isn’t true because I can remember her enjoying him not only on NewsRadio, but also when I was a kid and watching Pee Wee’s Playhouse. Then to hear her a few weeks ago say she never liked him makes me question anything she says about the past. So I wouldn’t even trust her version of the events. Not that she’s exactly willing to tell them anyways.
I’m 41 now, and hate being alive every single day. Every once in a while I think about how I wouldn’t exist if my dad were just not an idiot that one night. Just ONE NIGHT for him to be a well functioning human, and he doesn’t throw away his keys. I never get born, and how much better that would be for everybody. It just frustrates me that something SO SIMPLE could have saved me 41 years of daily agony. And then people wonder why I don’t want kids.
gestures to the entire world
THAT’S WHY.
Does anyone else feel this way?
Me thinking this was about getting frustrated at subpar artwork or crafts of my own creation but no, you really mean my own existence.
No, I don’t feel that way. I never had a problem knowing my parents had sex and that I’m the product of that. Sorry for your case, I see others giving much better advice already so I’ll leave it at that.