D’s parents have finally admitted that they refuse to meet me. Not because they hate me or anything, but because they simply cannot accept our “situation.”
Our situation…you know that situation where we are in a long term, loving relationship, and are happier together than either of us have ever been otherwise. Yeah, that situation.
Our happiness is something they cannot condone because it resulted from infidelity and divorce, and they, being fine and upstanding Christian people, could not possibly forgive such actions. (I’m paraphrasing here, as they don’t actually have the balls to put it so bluntly. Though they’ve so eloquently referred to me as the “floozy” for years, for what that’s worth.)
I wish I could tell them the full truth about the supposed infidelity. I bet their heads would fucking explode.
They can manipulate and emotionally abuse their children (and grandchildren) and be judgmental, racist, classist, homophobic douche-bags. They can forgive their other son for making a fucking sex tape with some skank and being stupid enough to leave it for his wife to find. They can forgive their son-in-law for being investigated for rape. But they simply have to put their foot down here. Because divorce is wrong.
These are the same people who believe the world is only 6000 years old, so I don’t really know why I’m surprised. I’m sure Jesus is super proud.
Honestly, making the decision to not meet me is probably very smart because I would fucking own them. Unlike every other woman in their twisted little family, I would go straight for the fucking balls, and I’d never look back.