It isn’t very nice to use people whom you are supposed to love to get what you want for yourself.
Take my daughter, Verity
Verity used me to get what she wanted.
Her mother would not let boyfriends stay in the house so, during my second divorce, which seemed to last a lifetime, she only came to stay with me so that her boyfriends could stay as well.
The first one was polite but had little else going for him whilst the second one was far more to my liking. But she told me a lie; she said that his mother allowed them to stay in the same room, which swayed me to do likewise, believing if they were going to carry on with that sort of thing, it was better and safer if they did it under my roof.
But like most things, if you give them an inch, they will take a mile. When I was preparing to finally move out of that house, I found her underwear in the lounge and that not only disgusted me, it made me very angry and I did text her to call her a whore.
Finding those garments was the final straw as I had asked her to come down to help me pack her things a couple of times, to which I received no answer, she had trashed the lounge and had trashed her bedroom, the floor of which was covered in wax from her bloody candles as well as every bloody window sill. Everything was wood and she could have burned the house down. I was nearly bankrupt because of the legal costs and the first thing that went was the house insurance.
She had no respect for the house that had cost a small fortune to renovate, she had no respect for her own bedroom and thus no respect for me.
I also believe that once she had left Frensham Heights, her six form college, she unceremoniously dumped that lovely chap, because she was going off to university. I believe that because when I emailed her mother, the response that I got was not as I expected.
She was not a child, she was a young woman and an intelligent one and that so she should have neither used me or her boyfriend for that matter.
She would not have dared to do that to her mother; so why me?