So, you were screwing a whore... and got a kid from it?
lol, sorry. Sad story... though your daily ratio of 0.58 a day is way to low to make my list.
Desperate people do desperate things. It's been so ever since Ugg the Cavman decided, more or less reluctantly, that one well-fed person would have a better chance of survival than two half-starved people. (And he is forgiven, for inventing THE BOOT which still bears his name.)
Look, you eat all the beans in a can, you don't know which one made you fart, you know? You smoke all the fags in a packet, you don't know which one made you cough. But it probably wasn't the one you where took one drag, threw it to the floor and ground it cruelly under your stiletto heel. I hope you can finish the analogy for yourself .....
Someone did the dirty on someone, is all that is clear. This was 1998 and DNA testing was around. I would have got myself tested if L. had asked me, and she knew that, but she never did ask. And if she was taking me for a ride, I actually
enjoyed that ride, so who won?
For the record, if she was my daughter and her mother chose someone else instead of me, then I think I made up for it by getting involved with another ready-made family; and suffice it to say, there is another, charming, intelligent, successful young woman out there whom, to the maximum extent permitted by modesty, I have influenced in the capacity of a near-parent. Babysitting, trips to the park, cooking meals for the three of us when her mum was too knackered, carrying her on my shoulders at punk gigs so she could see the band, helping her get on a train down to London, mathematics revision, lending her my sweatshirt on freezing walks home from gigs, going and putting the heating on in her house and getting her a dinner on the table when she arrived home from America while her mum was spending time with her own poorly mother -- don't tell me I haven't redeemed myself. Especially as all that is really supposed to be private. But if telling you this is really what it takes to make you understand, so be it.
Do you still see the kid? And can you really look into her eyes when you're dressed up as a woman?
I last spoke to her a year or so ago, when I called her mother and she answered and then tried to score off me. But f*(k that s#!t, no way am I going to risk getting caught dealing to a minor in my position.
As to your final question, her mum -- who made all the choices, all along; I may have stood back, but that does not mean I would ever have let myself be found wanting -- is supportive of my journey. And anyway, this is how I am, this is who I am. I'd actually feel worse meeting her dressed as a man --
that, to me, is putting on a costume now.