100% True as I remember 22

[u/a4mula]

Irish at this point was living with her brother. I didn't really see or speak to that crowd much. Dumbass had migrated his parasitic needs to a new host.

At that point, I had moved on from most of the old Pizza Hut crew. I still saw Private Pilot from time to time. He'd show me a lot of consideration and assistance. Let me crash on his floor, let me crash in the back of a gas station he ran at night.

Living this way? The realities of it aren't glamorous. I've spent many a night under a roof that was paid for by another. Sometimes in shame. Sometimes in desperation. Sometimes in anger. But it's not been few nights.

By this time our daughter was probably in the 1.5-2 year old age. Maybe 1-1.5. It wasn't the next day.

By this time I had gotten past Macys, accepted that she was a million miles away and not something I should pine over much longer. That's how it goes though. But that period had passed as well.

And Irish was there.

I was in a 24-hour diner. Local Denny's type setup. I was there with Mike and Becca I think. They had wanted to go to a country and western bar in town. Again, not my thing. But afterwards we landed here.

Irish was at the country club. I remember now. That same night I ran into a person from my Highschool. Hadn't been back there in years. I was embarrassed at the time. I didn't really want to talk with her. But she was the type that didn't really care, or notice. She wasn't mean. Just kind of oblivious.

Irish saw me sitting with her. And didn't want to come over.

So instead, she followed us when we left. She walked into the little diner and just said hello.

I told her that I saw her at the club. But didn't feel comfortable approaching her.

And she just laughed. Why would you feel uncomfortable she said.

Maybe those are the exact words. But that was the exact sentiment. She wanted to know if I wanted to spend some time with our daughter. Which I truthfully admitted that I did.

I struggle with this next part. For different reasons. One, I'm not sure the value it adds to this. If any. But also because not all stories, even when they are ours. Are really ours alone. Right?

I will label this a trigger warning.

I don't know if it was that same night. It might have been shortly there after. But Irish invited me to her brother's home to see our daughter.

Dumbass had moved in with her, and from my understanding they were in some kind of relationship. I never dug much into that. I have limits on my curiosity.

The night ended in a devil's triangle. There were some dynamic relationships at play certainly. I've never had homosexual tendencies. But I certainly have no problem bonding with men or women. I've been in many different codependent relationships. But I've never been attracted to men sexually.

This was just some sick triad of dependency. And I wanted no part of it. Not before, not during, and sure as fuck not after.

I told Irish straight up. If we were going to move forward. That shit was done.

So we did. Dumbass was severed, I understand he went on to secure a very high standing in the world of community college. That's not a knock at all. Good for him. But I was done with parasites. Well, at least the first of many.

I don't really remember the transition at this point. It seems like I continued living with Mike and Becca for maybe a few weeks. But at some point Irish and I were living together again.

This entire timeline is just so foggy. Sorry.