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Friday, March 1, 2024


My mother.


She’s said to my face she wants to marry rich and tried to “teach me” how to seduce a rich man instead of earning my way. She tried her damnedest to put me through gold-digging school as a child. Luckily, none of the lessons ever really stuck around.

When mom left my father after a particularly nasty divorce, she bounced back fast. The divorce case in court was still happening when she started dating Ken. Gold Digger rule number one: Look for a fancy car.

So, Ken had a sporty car. Perfect condition. I could tell I was an afterthought during all this, since whenever I absolutely had to go somewhere, Ken and my mother would just put me in the trunk of this car. Luckily, they have very nice windows. They are pretty cramped, however. Here was the problem with Ken. Ken didn’t want kids. Ken definitely didn’t want me. My mother had him wrapped around her finger.. but he was my worst nightmare.

I won’t go into the details, but he threatens to beat me, threw me down the stairs, put me through hard labour, and at the end of the day I slept on an exercise bench until I was given a bed at the spare room for the year or two years we stayed there. I believe I was six.


Gold Digger rule number two: You don’t have to like them, you just have to make them think you do.

A while later we had a guy over at the apartment a lot. I was a bit older and got the gist of what was going on. He wasn’t much to look at, but he got me a portable DVD player (this happened when I was much younger) and all of the movies I like, then actually wanted to spend time with me. I hoped beyond hope that this was the one. I really, really liked this guy.

He happened to overhear me telling mom how much I loved the gifts while watching my new TV. He also overheard mom scoff, and say: “He’s not here to amuse you. He’s here because he pays the bills.” That was the last time I saw him. Honestly, I genuinely miss that one.

Gold Digger rule number three: illegal money may also count as currency.

The shorter-lived guys were all over the place. I’m still kind of in disbelief that my mom would take me over to these houses, to be real. Some of them were.. really weird. There’s a shady guy she met who has an entire house filled with beer cans stacked along up his walls. It was.. really cool to a kid, but none of the guys really wanted anything to do with me. I just sat on the sofa like a good kid, kept my damn mouth shut, and waited for mom to get her to fix of whatever and finish her romp.

The quicker she got what she was after, the quicker I could go home.

Gold Digger rule number four: Get a guy with an extra vehicle. That way you don’t have to buy yourself a car.

This guy was.. something else. He was really trying to win mom over. To the point where we moved in with him, he bought me a slim PS2, and he gave mom a car that she could use. What he didn’t tell her was that his car was his ex’s, and when she found out where and what the car was being used for, she stole it back— legally.


She also stole everything of value to me, since it was unfortunately in my bookbag.. in the back of the car.

At the end of the day, the guy got tired of Mom or me and He kicked us out. Of course, mom blamed me. I don’t know who’s at fault it was. I was getting really tired of this though.

Gold Digger rule number five: Keep the details to yourself.

This is actually my rule, and I’ll tell you why.

The last guy I care to explain was.. weird. He hired a sixteen-year-old to build a company website for him, then got very upset when some of the HTML wasn’t professional standard. Honestly, I did my best. This guy put me to work though, and I resented every minute of it.

I basically functioned as an on-call secretary for his business, while he and my mother drank and drank on the patio. I’d do emails, screen calls, check information for clients, and somehow have to find time to build this damn website with no help. That’s not why he’s a problem though.

See, one night my mother came home, screaming, with a perfect set of teeth on her chest. They were bleeding, and she was bruised in the face. Mom said that he attacked her. I called the guy and bitched him out as well as a 16 year old can.

In the end, couldn’t do anything because they were drunk and apparently there’s a claim that it was self-inflicted. At the time I didn’t believe it. Now? …Possibly.

As far as my current relationship with her, it’s bad.

We live separately now, and she’s dating a guy named Dave. I’ve never met him, but she’s claimed for a few years that he’s verbally and psychologically mad. She says she’s called the police up there countless times, and has “tried” to kick him out, but he just won’t leave.

I offered to send help up there, and she refused. Why? You might think I’m being unfair, but that brings me to my final rule.


Gold Digger rule number six: He can get away with anything, as long as you don’t have to lift a finger.

Regardless of if she’s in trouble or not, she’s refused my help multiple times. It’s been years. I wash my hands of it.

Oh, and by the way— she absolutely 100% blames me for Ken.

Joke’s on her to be real. I married flat broke. Couldn’t be happier.

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