Divorce, Single Parenting, Dating, Sex, & Self-Recovery

Archive for July, 2010

Lack of Sex

Miranda is in controlI haven’t had sex with another person going on six months. And if you total up my strained marriage for the last year and a half you can count the sex on less than two hands. And somehow that was okay with her.

It’s true women have all the power when it comes to consensual sex. No matter the seduction or positive behavior, she holds the keys to the kingdom.

I wonder what it will be like to be with a woman loves sex for more than the courtship period. And what if she can cook? Or play tennis!

Future’s so bright…


The Off Parent



Down To the End Game

fuck you in yellow plasticIt’s hard not to put Fk You in my emails. But I’m being a gentleman about the whole thing. Even if you are now officially lawyered up. I won’t stoop to your tactics nor will I fight over petty details.

You’ve asked for this. Okay. You get your legal proposal together and I will respond. Until then, keep it to yourself.


The Off Parent

permalink: https://www.theoffparent.com/end-game/

Looking for the Ring: Am I a Hound Dog Now?

blue shirted woman, with a ring onSo she’s sitting a few booths away with a friend. She’s got on a bright blue top that makes her blue eyes pop electrically. NICE!

And the glitter on her finger is rather sparkly as well. Damn!

So I didn’t used to be this way. But these days, I’m actually actively looking at women’s ring fingers. It’s not like I’m after them. It’s not like I’m really a hound dog. Or…

I am in the hunt again. For what I do not know. But the critical finger on the left hand is now a shining focus. Odd. It feels kind of like a game. And of course that’s not to say that the ring means things are great in their relationship. But if they DON’T have a ring on…

Well… then I am free to flirt at will.


The Off Parent


Random link: 52% of women would rather be skinny than have sex

Stay At Home Mom: A Dream Unfulfilled

mother staying at home

mother staying at home
I wanted my wife to be able to attend school functions, meet the bus after school, provide the stay-at-home lifestyle that was so common in our neighborhood. And for the first 5 years, it was almost so. I went off to work with the expectations that she could provide a nurturing landing pad for them in and around school activities.

We lived in an upper-middle-class neighborhood with plenty of affluent families who could afford the one-income lifestyle. And again, we were close. But for some portions of that time she was a part-time working mom. Booking anywhere from 10 – 20 hours a week.

We could’ve lived across town. We could’ve decided that our time with our kids was more important than the great schools we were affording them. But we didn’t. I soldiered on with my big job with big benefits while she went to mid-morning events at the school, and chummed up with the other less-than-full-time moms. And perhaps that was a sore spot for her too. We were surrounded by couples that had made it. Ours was a different path.

And she was much better at school events. She handled proctoring the table of first-graders much better than I did. She was never short of ideas for kid-friendly activities. She never passed up a kid’s request, “Can we paint?” It was one of her gifts. She was fearless with the kids.

So it was a slightly dogged dad that I had become trying to support this selective imbalance. And for the most part, I was fully on-board and supportive and happy that she had the extra time to be with the kids. But there was a sadness too.

I was sad somewhere deep inside, about not being able to provide as well as my dad did, making the nice home, nice neighborhood, nice stay-at-home wife. And sometimes when I would visit the school in place of my wife, I would feel guilty, like SHE was supposed to be there not me. And somehow it was my fault that she was having to work and I was filling in.

But the reality is this: I deserve time with my kids as much as she does. I gave up my ability to proctor classroom activities for a shot at allowing her to be there. There are plenty of families in our school district who have two working parents. And we had certainly achieved an agreeable fit. At least that’s what I felt about it.

Today I visited my daughter at school for lunch. She didn’t know I was coming. I didn’t really plan it out, I just looked at the schedule and noticed that her lunch was at 12:4o and off I went. She was delighted to see me. She proudly quizzed me about her friends’ names and laughed with them as I couldn’t remember any of them. And we sat and chatted with the group while she ate.

Looking around the cafeteria there was one other man in the room. I was in the realm of women and children. But the sad tone did not creep into my thoughts. I was happy to have the time to visit, I was happy my daughter was doing well with the divorce, and I was happy to be able to know that the value I provided was over and above any income bracket or a nice house. What I provide for my daughter is a solid male example.

I left before the lunch was completely over. The table was getting excited at the anticipation of going out for recess. I high-fived my daughter and said, “I’ll see you after the bus today, at your mom’s house.” I was picking up my son and my daughter was choosing to stay at home with the very cool babysitter. And we were happy with the arrangement.


The Off Parent


I Guess You’re Right: I UnFriended You

unfriending the ex on facebook

As far as I’m concerned, I’m not interested in seeing your face pop across my Facebook Friends any more. So you have given up exclusive rights to my pictures of our beach trip. You can ask, but I’m sure you won’t.

I am learning how to block you from my widely broadcast social profile. Enjoy your life without me, sweetheart.

You’ll just feel a little prick and then it will be numb.


The Off Parent


Picture This: A Beautiful Deaf Girl, 29, Working In a Titty Bar

Sex on the first date - would you really?

Talking to a StripperShe sits on my lap and we exchange some hellos and she begins to sign. I know how to say “I love you.” I say. She lip-reads. We laugh.

She pulls out a pen and paper and we carry on an amazing conversation. I don’t want to be at a titty bar with her. She wants to do a table dance, but she’s just working for a living. I am amused.

She lets me pick the set of music she will dance to. She says she has been a “dancer” for ten years. Not titty dancing, mind you, real dancing. Says she was a cheerleader.

And what I notice is her perfume. Spicy and different. It’s all a haze now, I have come down. The hamburger was terrific and the company was fun as well.

For some reason, I believe her. But I warn you, never believe anything a titty dancer tells you. They lie for a living. They lie to make you give up another $20 bucks. They lie about everything, most importantly, their name. It’s like something from T. S. Elliot, where the “real” name of a titty dancer might give you some power over them. Probably cuts down on the stalking.

Anyway, Katy, I named her Mary Moon due to the quarter moon on her back, is 29, she says. And she is amazingly funny and articulate, in her writing. And she continues to sit on my lap. Asks if I will buy her a beer. Yes, of course.

So she dances to Foo Fighers’ Pretender, Black Hole Sun, and Name by the Goo Goo Dolls. A set made in my little moment of heaven. She is pretty, trim, petite and better looking than she is a dancer. She is moving to the thud of the music, of course, she doesn’t know the words. I pay her some more dollars and buy her another beer when she’s done.

I tell her I can help her set up a website for her business. She takes my email and phone number, dutifully. (I don’t imagine she will ever really call me. But might as well put it out there.) Fill my own little portion of the fantasy.

And what I notice is her perfume. Spicy and different. It’s all a haze now, I have come down. The hamburger was terrific and the company was fun as well. She devoured my french fries when I was done.

So, Mary Moon, I hope your night picks up. When I left there was one of three other paying patrons. It was Tuesday after all. And if you DO call, well, that will be another story.


The Off Parent

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