All people make poor companion choices for various reasons.
In extreme retrospect, I have made my peace with my own reasons for making such poor decisions regarding candidates for a life of companionship. And I know full well that with it to do over again, I would not have ever let anything proceed beyond “hello” with either of the women who ended up mothers to my children. At a glance I would know better now, but in each case at each time, in two very different phases of my life, I had very little notion of what I was even looking for at all, and less of why I may have been seen as a prospect to either of them.
This is the worst of it now, in a way, knowing better. I have done much research on the topic of parental alienation, and it is anchored in one parent’s belief not only that the other parent is just no damn good, but also a belief that it is her right and duty to instruct her child to that effect.
Thing is, I happen to believe that neither of those women is much of a human being; even the idea of ever hearing either of their voices again is about the only thing I can think of that I would find too repulsive to endure. I think that. I feel that. I have my reasons, believe me.
But my children, just know each of them as “Mom.” My conundrum has been all along, having been so viciously and shamelessly alienated as a parent myself, and feeling that if anyone had good reason to behave this way it would have been me and not either of them from the beginning, still I know that it is outside the bounds of decency and honor to take that out on my kids and try intentionally to pit them against their mothers.
Something tells me that each of them will see to that themselves anyway; my son is already showing signs (the family farcebook grapevine tells me) of being in a deep crisis at nineteen. Given what I know of how his mother has raised him, I’m surprised it took this long. But do I want to cheer that on, and use it as vindication, to tell myself it proves I was right all along? I might feel that way (and I do), but this is not what I want to invest in whatever opportunity awaits for my son and I to re-unite and reconcile. I hate being boxed in by knowing that what I know about what was done wrong to him and I both, does not simply make me right about taking up my own role as an alienating parent.
Believe me, telling either of my children that they need to respect their mother, is about as emotionally rewarding as induced vomiting. But I still know it is the right thing to do. Two wrongs don’t make a right, and the fact that I would give neither of those creatures a second glance today doesn’t mean my kids, their kids, should have to regard their own mother that way.
Nowadays the only woman who even gets on my radar for her sheer pleasantness and capacity to respect a man, is thirty-seven years my junior. Doubtful I’ll be acting on that any time soon, but the young lady does go far in helping me not give up on the female of the species altogether.
Women my own age or even close seem like aliens to me, and I doubt I look much of a catch to any of them either. No more than I was ever husband material, I will never, ever be middle-class material, and that seems to be what those gals, bless their hearts, are all about.