I dated a man. He was strong, handsome, unique, interesting. He also had a baby mama, who he says is alright with his bisexuality. I guess she was, until I came into the picture.
He introduced me to her when he and I first started dating. She smiled at me and said hi. She shook my hand, and then we danced together. It was a party, and her friends were there too. They kept staring at me and talking amongst themselves. I wasn’t comfortable with that, being the new boyfriend suffering the distant dissection of my beau’s ex female love interest. But it was a party. So I kept on drinking and dancing.
And then, as I got comfortable in my relationship, she got less comfortable with me being around. There was drama. There was hate. And there were children involved. It broke my heart that she was using their children as a weapon to drive a wedge in between me and my beau. The entire brewing mess affected me in ways I thought wasn’t possible. I wanted the best for my man as much as I wanted him with me, but then I loved the way his eyes shone when he talked about his kids. Before the drama. Before the mess. Continue reading