Steven Weissman

On Friday, via a letter from the State of Washington, I found out you impregnated a girl four months into our relationship. I didn't believe the letter at first. There was no way you could hide this from me for two years. This woman must mean another person with your name, your Social Security number. Until I looked her up and realized it was an employee we both worked with. One of your subordinates. Then it clicked, and I knew this was real.

One night, which must have been a few months into her pregnancy, she had her birthday at a bar near work. You invited me, and I was happy to spend time with some of your employees. What a fucking nightmare that must have been for her. And me, oblivious to the situation, because I trusted you so completely.

I remember when she was so pregnant, about to burst, but still came to work. Then she had the baby and disappeared. I wondered why she never came back.

Now I find myself trying to recall everything you ever mentioned about her. Any detail I can grasp onto to torture myself even more. I can only imagine how this would have affected me if I hadn't dumped you six months ago, because as it is, I am broken. I feel even more sorry for her, who you used and threw away, leaving her with too much responsibility to take on alone.

Of course, when I let you know what I had received in the mail, you gave me some bullshit response. Then I told you who the mother was and I haven't heard from you since. That's enough to convince me. I hope the state tracks you down and you spend the next 20 years of your life paying child support, you fucking piece of shit.