There’s a boy out there. He’s 17 now, and he’s probably my son. His mother spent a lot more nights with me than with the other guy, at least. But, when she found out she was pregnant, she ran off and married him because he was the more stable choice. Turns out that here in CA, if a woman is married when she gives birth, then only she or the husband can challenge his paternity in court. So I fought with her for three years for the chance to know him. I tried every argument I could think of to convince her. She gave me one day with him. Eventually I realized that if I kept trying all I would accomplish would be to tear apart the only family he knew. So I gave up. I think it was the right decision. I’ve fucked my life up in pretty spectacular fashion and probably would have done the same to his. But I hate myself for it to this day, and I think I always will.