Update 5:43 PM- Now I just want to kick your teeth in. You have the gall to tell our dad he’s Bipolar. I think you ought to look up the definition, because you would find it isn’t just a noun you can throw around when the mood strikes.
I wish I could be as irresponsible and flippant as you.
Actually, I don’t. I guess I should consider myself blessed to be about 98% more responsible than you ever will be. Sure, I graduated college two years ago, and am amassing more and more debt every day I haven’t found a job–and yet, you have a well-paying job and are just now repaying loans you took out over ten years ago. When I was eighteen, I had two credit cards that I used freely, not thinking of the future consequences. I learned my lesson, and have avoided making that same mistake again (with the obvious exception of earning my Bachelor’s).
Have you learned anything in the ten-plus years you’ve been acting like an asshole?
At 33 years old, you’ve learned zilch. You lied to our parents and made up some ruse that this guy who you were hot for was willing to pay them $500 for our excellent washer and dryer, knowing full damn well he had no such intentions, instead paying them the money you had no business parting with. What did you learn from this? You got him to have sex with you, but he is now smearing you all over your workplace, and you have vowed to never do that again. You pulled the same shit when you were a freshman, again in your last two years of high school, and will likely repeat it again in the next few years.
You’re drowning underneath the debt you’ve incurred trying to live well above your means, and yet you still try to play the part of someone who lives comfortably. Maybe you’ve got every one of your friends glamoured, but you can’t fool those of us who truly know who you are.
And now our father has taken out a loan to bail you out…again. Just because he is our father doesn’t mean he’s obligated to bail you out every time you fuck up, which you do about five times a year. You get on mine and our sisters’ cases about being jobless and having our dad pay for our groceries and rent, and yet he buys your groceries and pays your car insurance, because you chose to trade in a sedan for a Mustang in an effort to get that co-worker into bed with you and make him fall in love with you. We know what our dad does for us, and we are grateful. We do not continually ask him for things when we don’t need them, nor do we expect that he buy us things because he is our father and he must. Such logic is immature.
I still wonder why he puts up with your crap. If it weren’t for the fact that the shit you have gotten yourself into would result in you having to move in with him, he should have let you deal with the consequences. You have been ridiculously lucky in the past:
- getting out of contracts and paying for bills by batting your eyelashes or by just outright telling collection agencies that you just refuse to pay, and they leave you alone.
- having our dad put himself into hock for your ungrateful ass
Today was the straw that broke the camel’s back. This flippant attitude that dad owes you because he had one sperm cell successfully fertilize is utter bullshit, and frankly, you ought to kiss the ground he walks on for doing this. But will you?
You will flub up again, and expect him to bail you out. Frankly, I hope he makes good on his threat to not help you out again, because maybe then you’ll learn to stop acting like God made you special and live accordingly. Start living life as though dad and his money aren’t here, because when he does eventually go, what will you do? Grandma (should she still be living) or our aunt won’t help, and I sure as hell won’t.
Get over yourself, and get out of our lives.