If you’re going to talk shit about me… wait, don’t.

Someone that I was friends with who put her hands on her estranged wife and was outed as a sexual predator by those who had been intimate with her finally realized that I had… for lack of a better way to put it, blocked her on everything (because I did, and for that reason, so I’m not even going to dispute that), and she decided to whine to someone that both of us knew claiming that I “was getting information about the abuser for the other side” when I didn’t even know until the day that I cut her out of my life what she did, which other people can vouch for, and then she has the nerve to say that I… continued to talk to my children’s fathers — who are not in their lives, who are not allowed to be in their lives — “until it was no longer convenient for me” or something. I’d like to know when it was convenient for me to have anything to do with either one of them past the point of gestation, to be honest. I’ve discussed the things that… happened on my personal Facebook because almost none of what I write there is public, and I at least like to think that I appropriately vet people. I was also consistent with this person, as I am with everyone, explaining that my current living situation does not allow me to invite people from the Internet onto the property… and this person did not seem to be comfortable with that, presumably thinking that I would make an exception for her or that an exception would be made for her when it was not my exception to make.

I like — and by that, what I really mean to say is don’t like — people assuming things about me when almost all of them are right there on my Facebook page (if we need to have this sort of conversation, you should know me well enough by now), let alone bringing my children’s fathers into something that was and continues to be not at all related to you or the issue at hand. If it’s any consolation, you’re about to join them on the short list of people that I can’t trust, who cause me concern and make me feel exceedingly uncomfortable. I’m mincing my words here. People reading this probably know just how I feel about this.

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