One night, I met a guy through my neighbor. He seemed nice at first, and we casually became friends—but it didn’t take long before his clinginess made me uncomfortable. After heading home around 1:30 AM, I was woken up by loud noise from an after-party next door. That’s when he knocked on my door. I didn’t answer, but he started shouting at me to come out. When I still didn’t respond, he tried to force the door open, yanking on the handle while yelling like he’d lost control. Thankfully, he eventually gave up. I never spoke to him again.

Another shocking moment happened when I bumped into my boss and his wife at a restaurant. Just the day before, he had shared at work that he was going to be a dad, so I congratulated his wife. Her face went pale. My boss quickly pulled me aside and whispered angrily, “You idiot, I meant my girlfriend. My wife can’t get pregnant.” I was mortified. The worst part? I had to keep working with him every day after that, and the tension between us was unbearable.

Then there’s the story of my mother—one that feels more tragic than dramatic. When I was four and my sister was eight, she left us for a truck driver and never came back. She signed away her rights and cut ties. Around the time I turned twelve, she began sending birthday cards—always late, and one even had the wrong birthstone. As an adult, she’s never tried to build a real relationship with me or my kids, but she still talks to my sister and even sent her kids a game console for Christmas.

The only gesture my mom’s made toward reconnecting with me? A Facebook friend request. No messages. No calls. Just that silent click. I guess that’s something—but it’s a far cry from the mother I used to wish she’d be.