My Father Went Fishing with His Friends and Forgot My 18th Birthday

Ryder’s 18th birthday should have been a milestone celebration, but the absence of his father left him feeling deeply disappointed. Learning that his dad chose a fishing trip with friends over spending time with him only added to his heartbreak. However, what happened next led Ryder to see things in a new light. Let me introduce myself—I’m Ryder, and I recently turned 18. Before I dive into the story of my birthday, let me share a bit about my life. Things were pretty normal until I turned seven. That’s when the arguments between my mom and dad began. I didn’t fully understand what was happening at the time, but I could sense the tension. By the time I was eight, my dad was gone. I remember clearly the day my mom sat me down and explained, “Ryder, sweetie, your father won’t be living with us anymore. But you can still see him whenever you want, okay?”My heart skipped a beat.
“But why, Mom? Did I do something wrong?” Mom’s eyes welled up with tears, but she smiled gently. “Oh, no, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t your fault at all.” “Then why is Dad leaving?” I asked, desperate for answers. She took a deep breath. “Well, sometimes grown-ups just can’t live together anymore. Your dad and I tried really hard to make things work, but sometimes things just don’t turn out the way we hope.” “Can’t you try harder?” I pleaded, not ready to accept the reality. She pulled me into a hug. “We did try, Ryder. For a long time. But sometimes, the kindest thing we can do is to live apart. Your dad and I will both always love you, and that won’t ever change. We just won’t be living in the same house anymore.” And just like that, my parents were divorced. After the divorce, Mom took a job as an elementary school teacher, working tirelessly to give me a good life. I’ll always be grateful for that. But my dad? He became like a ghost in my life—always busy with work, friends, and his hobbies, especially fishing. Every weekend, he’d vanish with his buddies to go fishing, even when Mom reminded him that I’d be visiting. Despite everything, a part of me still longed for his attention. I wanted him to notice me, to be proud of me. So, I spent years trying to win his approval, hoping that one day he’d realize how much I needed him. But I was wrong. As my 18th birthday approached, I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d show up this time. Turning 18 is a big deal, after all. I planned a small party with Mom and a few close friends. I even texted Dad about it, and his reply gave me hope: “Sounds great! I’ll try to be there.” The day arrived, and Mom went all out—decorating the house, baking my favorite cake, and even surprising me with a new guitar I’d been eyeing for months. Friends started arriving, and the house was soon filled with laughter and excitement. But as the hours passed, there was still no sign of Dad. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a message, but there was nothing. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and decided to call him. When he finally picked up, I could hear the sound of waves and chatter in the background. “Dad, it’s my birthday,” I reminded him, trying to hide the desperation in my voice. “Oh, right. Happy birthday!” he replied casually. “I’m out on the lake with the guys. I’ll catch you later, okay?” I hung up, feeling tears blur my vision. I rushed to my room and hid there until Mom found me. She sat beside me, putting her arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry, honey. You know how he is.” “I know,” I whispered, trying to stay strong, but inside, I was shattered. The days after my birthday were a blur. I pretended everything was fine, but inside, I felt invisible. Dad’s absence reminded me that I wasn’t important enough for him. Then, a week later, Dad called. He acted as if nothing had happened. “Hey, I got you a gift,” he said.  “Want to come over and get it?” Part of me wanted to tell him to forget it, but another part still held onto that sliver of hope. So, I agreed. When I arrived at his house, he greeted me with a smile and handed me a long, mysterious package. As I unwrapped it, my heart sank—it was a fishing rod. “What do you think?” he asked proudly. “We can go fishing together sometime!” The fishing rod wasn’t just a poorly chosen gift; it was a symbol of his absence, a reminder of the very activity that had taken him away from me. “Thanks, Dad,” I forced a smile. “It’s… great.” He didn’t seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm. “I figured it was time you learned the ropes. You’ll have fun!” He then suggested we go fishing the next weekend, but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. “I… I can’t come next weekend, Dad,” I said. “I’ve got plans with Mom.” He frowned for a moment, but then his smile returned. “No worries, we’ll find another time.” But I knew we wouldn’t, and for the first time, I was okay with that. As I left his house holding the rod, I realized it was time to let go of the fantasy and accept the reality. I couldn’t keep chasing after someone who couldn’t be there for me. Over the next few months, I focused on the people who genuinely cared about me—my mom, my friends, and most importantly, myself. I threw myself into my music, practicing guitar for hours, and began helping Mom more around the house, grateful for everything she had done for me. One evening, as we were doing dishes together, Mom asked, “Have you heard from your father lately?” “Nah, but it’s okay. I’m done waiting for him to show up,” I replied. She looked at me with a mix of sadness and understanding. “I’m sorry it turned out this way, Ryder. I always hoped…” “I know, Mom,” I hugged her. “But I’ve got you, and that’s more than enough.” As time passed, I learned that my worth wasn’t tied to Dad’s attention. I found strength in the love and support around me and realized that sometimes people won’t be what you need them to be—and that’s okay. The fishing rod still sits in my closet, untouched. It serves as a reminder, not of what I lost, but of what I gained—self-respect, resilience, and the ability to let go of what I can’t change. What would you have done if you were in my place?

My Wife’s Fitness Addiction Seemed Innocent – When I Found Out the Truth behind It, It Broke Our Family

My wife Jane’s love for fitness started as a healthy habit. But little did I know, her trips to the gym were hiding a shocking secret that would shatter our family.

Woman exercising on a mat | Source: Pexels

Woman exercising on a mat | Source: Pexels

Jane had always been into fitness. She loved working out, especially during college. Recently, though, her gym routine took over her life. What started as a few visits a week turned into a daily obsession.

At first, I thought nothing of it. Jane was 40 and still in great shape. She balanced her job with taking care of our kids, who were five and nine.

About 18 months ago, she started going back to the gym. It fit into her schedule, so I didn’t see a problem. Then, things changed.

Woman training at the gym | Source: Pexels

Woman training at the gym | Source: Pexels

She began going every day, even on weekends. She started doing double sessions, one in the morning and one in the evening. It felt extreme, especially since she was four months pregnant.

I noticed she was irritable when she missed a session. “It’s like she’s a junkie needing a fix,” I thought. I shared my concerns, but Jane got upset. “The gym is my time,” she said. I suggested working out together, but she refused.

Woman using a leg press machine at a gym | Source: Pexels

Woman using a leg press machine at a gym | Source: Pexels

I confronted her one evening after she got back from the gym. “Jane, we need to talk,” I began, trying to keep my voice calm.

She sighed. “Peter, can this wait? I’m exhausted.”

“No, it can’t wait. I’m worried about you. You’re at the gym all the time. It’s not healthy, especially with the baby on the way.”

Jane’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t understand. The gym helps me relax. It’s my escape.”

“Escape from what?” I asked, my frustration growing. “From me? From the kids?”

Woman working out at the gym | Source: Pexels

Woman working out at the gym | Source: Pexels

She threw her gym bag on the floor. “No, Peter. It’s not about you or the kids. It’s my time. I need it.”

“You’re overdoing it,” I insisted. “You’re missing out on time with us. The chores are piling up. People are starting to notice. Some even think you might be having an affair.”

Her face flushed with anger. “An affair? Seriously, Peter? That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” I shot back. “Because it feels like you’re hiding something. You won’t even let me join you at the gym.”

A couple quarreling | Source: Pexels

A couple quarreling | Source: Pexels

“That’s because I need this for myself!” she shouted. “Why can’t you understand that?”

“Because it’s tearing us apart,” I said, my voice breaking. “I miss you, Jane. The kids miss you.”

Jane’s expression softened for a moment, but then she shook her head. “I can’t give this up, Peter. I won’t.”

We stood there in silence, the distance between us growing. Finally, she picked up her bag and walked past me. “I’m going to bed,” she said quietly. “We’ll talk about this later.”

An up-close image of a sad woman | Source: Pexels

An up-close image of a sad woman | Source: Pexels

I wasn’t insecure. I also worked out and stayed in shape for my job. But Jane’s obsession with the gym was different. She was over-exercising and neglecting chores, leaving them all to me. People around us noticed.

They commented on her constant gym visits and how she’d changed. Some even hinted at an affair. It made me afraid to face our close circle of friends and family. I felt embarrassed and ashamed. The rumors were like a dark cloud hanging over me.

A pensive man looking out the window | Source: Pexels

A pensive man looking out the window | Source: Pexels

Every time I saw someone whispering or casting a sympathetic glance my way, it cut deep. I started to avoid social gatherings, fearing the inevitable questions and silent judgments.

Emotionally, I was a wreck. My mind was constantly racing, filled with thoughts of Jane’s strange behavior and the possibility of her being unfaithful.

A man standing by the window | Source: Pexels

A man standing by the window | Source: Pexels

I felt betrayed, but more than that, I felt helpless. I couldn’t shake off the anxiety that gnawed at me every day. My confidence was shattered, and I started doubting myself. Was I not good enough? Had I failed as a husband? These thoughts consumed me, making it hard to focus on anything else.

I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I needed answers. Recently, I followed her to the gym. I waited 20 minutes before going in as a visitor. After changing clothes, I walked into the main hall.

A fitness club lined with gym equipment | Source: Pexels

A fitness club lined with gym equipment | Source: Pexels

I was amazed. There was Jane, teaching aerobics to about 20 men. “She must be working here as a trainer,” I thought. I went to the registration to check. They confirmed it – Jane was conducting personal lessons there.

Relief washed over me. This explained her absence. I decided to wait for her near the hall. When the training ended, the men left. But then I went in and saw Jane kissing a man. Anger surged through me.

A couple kissing while lifting barbells | Source: Pexels

A couple kissing while lifting barbells | Source: Pexels

“What are you doing?” I shouted. “Are you cheating on me?”

Jane’s eyes widened in shock. “Peter, what are you doing here?” she stammered, pulling away from the man.

“I followed you, Jane. I had to know what was going on,” I said, my voice trembling with rage. “And now I see it. Who is he?”

The man stepped forward, his expression smug. “I’m James,” he said. “Jane and I… we love each other.”

“Love?” I echoed, my heart breaking. “Jane, you’re pregnant with our child. How could you do this?”

Jane’s face crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Peter. I didn’t mean for this to happen. But James and I… we just connected.”

A close-up of a woman crying | Source: Pexels

A close-up of a woman crying | Source: Pexels

“Connected?” I repeated, feeling a surge of bitterness. “While I’m at home, taking care of everything, you’re here with him?”

James put an arm around Jane, and I wanted to punch him. “We’ll make it work, Peter. I’ll take care of her, and the baby too,” he said confidently.

I looked at Jane, searching her eyes for any sign of the woman I married. “Is this really what you want?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Jane nodded, her eyes full of pain. “Yes, Peter. I’m sorry. I can’t live a lie anymore.”

I turned away, feeling the weight of betrayal crush me. “Then we’re done,” I said, my voice hollow. “I’ll file for divorce. And I’ll demand a paternity test.”

I walked out of the gym, my world shattered, leaving Jane in tears.

A close-up of a sad woman holding a tissue | Source: Pexels

A close-up of a sad woman holding a tissue | Source: Pexels

I filed for divorce and demanded a paternity test. Jane took her belongings and left with her lover.

It broke me. Our 15-year marriage ended so abruptly. Jane explained, “I finally found true love at 40.”

She was willing to share custody of our kids. The paternity test confirmed I was the father of her child.

A man and a woman reading a document | Source: Pexels

A man and a woman reading a document | Source: Pexels

Months later, I heard from relatives that James had been treating Jane poorly. He also started being distant toward Jane, just like she was to me. He snapped at her every chance he got and made her feel worthless.

Jane, who once thrived on attention and affection, was now craving the love and support she had taken for granted. James, once attentive and caring, became cold and dismissive.

A man sitting on a couch | Source: Pexels

A man sitting on a couch | Source: Pexels

He would leave the house for long hours, sometimes not even bothering to tell Jane where he was going. The vibrant woman I once knew was now a shadow of herself, living in constant anxiety and regret.

Arguments became frequent. Jane would plead, “James, please talk to me. We can work through this.”

But James would snap back, “I don’t have time for this, Jane. You’re always nagging. Just leave me alone.”

A distant couple sitting on a sofa | Source: Pexels

A distant couple sitting on a sofa | Source: Pexels

Each harsh word and cold shoulder chipped away at her. She realized too late the mistake she had made. The man she left me for was not the loving partner she thought he would be. He made her feel insignificant and alone.

Jane found herself reflecting on our life together, understanding now the stability and care she had traded away. When we spent time with the kids, she barely looked me in the eye.

People sitting on a couch with their devices | Source: Pexels

People sitting on a couch with their devices | Source: Pexels

She was embarrassed about how her life had turned out. Her once confident demeanor was now replaced by a sense of shame and regret. She tried to put on a brave face for the kids, but I could see the pain behind her eyes.

She was haunted by the choices she made, knowing she had thrown away a stable and loving family for a relationship that quickly soured.

Surprisingly, it amused me. She deserved it for her betrayal. I moved on, focusing on our kids and rebuilding my life without her.

A man and his children looking at a tablet | Source: Pexels

A man and his children looking at a tablet | Source: Pexels

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*