When You Finally Get To Meet The Kids

And it’s like you’re just another old family friend or, in other words, it’s no big deal…

I’ve made no secret of the fact that the man I have been seeing for well over a year brought up the idea that he really wanted me to meet his children a bit early on, once we embarked upon this journey, affectionately referred to as, “dating”. I didn’t read into it; I knew that his ex had some pretty deep issues, and I just took it as a very simple compliment. I told him that I’d love to meet his children when the time was right.

Fast forward to November of last fall. We weather quite a few storms that his ex created with her bad behavior, which often meant we would go long stretches of time without seeing each other. At one point it was nearly two months, and I won’t deny that at that point I was a bit more than frustrated. He had taken the kids to the west coast to visit with his brother’s family and his Mother, who’d relocated to the south west, flew in to spend the week with her sons and grandchildren. They had a great time, I gave them a few suggestions for kid-friendly activities since I spend so much time in the LA area for work; and they came up with several day trips on their own. When they finally got back and we had a chance to speak (a few days before Thanksgiving) it was rather apparent that everyone had an incredible time. I was thrilled that it had all worked out.

Before he left, he promised that once they returned, he would make arrangements for me to meet the boys so that it would be easier for us to spend time together during the upcoming holidays. There had been similar promises prior to that but given the events that had transpired leading up to this trip I was rather inclined to believe him. I looked forward to their return and finally meeting the boys.

He did not follow through. Rather, he mentioned it to his ex, she had a childish tantrum about it, and he deferred to her. However, he failed to mention that to me, and just kept telling me that he was trying to figure out dates and appropriate places to meet.

I finally pulled the truth out of him, and when he admitted to me what had happened, I lost my shit a little, and simply broke down and cried. I didn’t want to speak to him for a a couple of weeks. I felt like I’d been led on by a very convincing conman. I beat myself up for a good while. I spoke to my best friends about how stupid, lead on and ridiculous I felt. My friends agreed; he appeared to be stringing me along and I needed to set a solid boundary.

We finally reconciled to a degree and met up to see a concert (a bit of a holiday themed show that a favorite indie artist does every year in downtown Manhattan…). We had a wonderful evening; he really ended up loving the music, and we just took enjoyed every moment we had in each other’s company. He spent the night and I drove him back to his place so he could be home before the boys arrived for the weekend a bit later the next day.

I left in just the nick of time, once again, so as not to cross paths with the boys. It was a lovely evening together and we had so much fun, but it was more than two weeks before we could connect again. I saw him for a short time before leaving to visit my family and best friend in northern New England to celebrate the Christmas Holidays.

We spoke while I was in the NE, he promised me that we would all meet once I returned. But we got together for a few days when I got home, and I did not meet the kids. We didn’t even get to see my dear friends, which was something that I was looking forward to, since they had come up with a new game to play.

A few more weeks passed, we saw each other another day or two … I spend a few days at his place alone while he spent days on end in the ex’s basement caring for his boys while she spun out again. I finally made him tell me when he thought we would finally be able to meet. I was at my wits end. Emotionally, in the worst place I had been since my biological mother had been murdered by her estranged husband when I was 19. I didn’t even get to this place when the twat was fucking with me, trying to manipulate me with emotional abuse and physical violence.

Because I blamed myself for sticking around as long as I had…

Things would eventually work out, but not before I spun out and nearly made a number of very poor decisions …

To Be Continued….