I’ve heard people b**** about how their moms lay guilt trips, mine pretty much made a fetish out of it. Dad left before I was born, somehow that was my fault. The various guys she’d bring home either didn’t know she had an eight year old son, in which case they’d cut and run as soon as they learned I existed, and that was my fault; or they were hoping to f*** an eight year old boy, in which case they’d leave the minute they had their way with me, and that was my fault. She’d still troll the scuzziest places she could find looking for a one night stand; if you find a p*** in one of the bars she hit, there’s six more standing behind him, so it’s not like she wasn’t looking for some of the shittiest people on earth, she just liked blaming me for being raped, or not being a good enough f*** that the guy stuck around, or whatever she could think of to spin it.
