My Ex Hid a Child—Now He Wants Me to Co-Parent With Him
In this jaw-dropping listener write-in, a woman reflects on the surreal request her ex-boyfriend made after years of silence and emotional distance. The two dated for five years, with the relationship ultimately ending due to his emotional unavailability and tendency to shut down during conflict. Now, three years later, he reemerges—not to apologize or reconnect romantically, but to ask her to step into a quasi-parental role for a child he only recently discovered he had. His pitch? That raising this child has opened his eyes and that he wants someone he “trusts” to help him co-parent—even if they aren’t in a relationship again.
The OP is understandably floored. Not only was this child hidden from her during the tail end of their relationship (intentionally or not), but the request itself suggests a deeply troubling view of what emotional labor and family building mean. In her words, she feels like a “plug-and-play mom,” not a human being with agency, timing, and choice.
This isn’t just about an awkward coffee reunion—it’s a larger issue about boundaries, romantic closure, gender roles, and the ways some men interpret parenthood as a justification for emotional shortcuts.
When someone from your past reaches out after years of silence, it’s natural to wonder why, but imagine it’s to find out they want you to co-parent their child
The author dated her now ex-boyfriend for five years but ended things due to his emotional distance and secretive behavior
Emotional Labor, Romantic Audacity, and the “Convenient Co-Parenting” Fantasy (1000 Words)
At the core of this story lies a deceptively complex issue: the expectation that women—particularly former partners—can be recruited into emotionally laborious roles without consent, under the guise of shared history and “trust.” This isn’t merely a case of a bad breakup or a misguided proposal; it reflects broader societal dynamics around gender, responsibility, and emotional entitlement.
1. Emotional Labor and Gender Dynamics
Sociologist Arlie Hochschild coined the term “emotional labor” in her book The Managed Heart (1983), originally in the context of workplace dynamics. But in the years since, it has come to describe the disproportionate burden placed on women to manage emotional wellness within relationships, both romantic and familial. In heterosexual dynamics, women are often expected to “fix” the emotional shortcomings of their male partners—soothing moods, initiating difficult conversations, or absorbing the fallout from unresolved trauma.
In this case, the ex is seemingly attempting to offload a major life development—a child from another relationship—onto his former partner, based on the flimsy justification that she once expressed a desire for a family. This reveals a troubling assumption: that any family will do, so long as she’s in it. That her previous emotional investment in him somehow obligates her to continue doing relational labor, even now, even retroactively.
2. The Fantasy of Plug-and-Play Parenthood
Modern co-parenting arrangements come in many forms, especially as family structures diversify. But what makes them functional is mutual respect, ongoing communication, and—most importantly—consent. What OP describes is not a collaborative, well-thought-out parenting structure. It’s a man proposing a convenient emotional structure to offload part of his new parental responsibility onto someone who had no hand in creating the child, all under the veil of trust.
This is the “plug-and-play” mom fallacy: the idea that women are emotionally available on demand for family roles simply because they’re nurturing, supportive, or used to caregiving. This overlooks personal boundaries, individual aspirations, and—crucially—the fact that family building is a process, not a retroactive ask. What her ex proposed wasn’t a reunion, but a rebranding of her emotional labor to suit his current crisis.
3. The Role of Romantic Closure
This story also speaks to the myth that emotional closure equates to rekindling. In the absence of personal healing or accountability, some people view old relationships as soft landing pads—emotionally familiar zones where the friction of new intimacy can be bypassed. Her ex doesn’t seem to want reconciliation in the traditional sense; he wants support, stability, and someone who won’t challenge his sudden pivot into fatherhood.
Dr. Jennifer Freed, a psychologist and author of Use Your Planets Wisely, points out that when people don’t process breakups properly, they sometimes “circle back to their exes not out of love, but out of unfinished emotional dependencies.” That appears to be happening here: the ex is not offering a renewed partnership built on growth, but a shortcut through accountability by exploiting old emotional bonds.
4. The Ethics of Involving Third Parties in Parenthood
Involving a non-biological, non-consenting adult in a child’s life is ethically fraught. While blended families can work beautifully, they require transparency, shared values, and most importantly, consent. The child in question here is already navigating a new relationship with a previously uninvolved father. Adding a quasi-parental figure under such nebulous circumstances could cause confusion, instability, or emotional harm—especially if it’s clear this woman isn’t committed to staying long-term.
The ethical concerns extend to the child’s mother as well. Was she consulted? Is she comfortable with this arrangement? The ex’s entire proposition seems based on selfish motivation rather than collective family planning.
5. Male Entitlement in the Face of Parenthood
One of the more unsettling elements in this story is how the ex frames fatherhood as a revelation—but not one that inspires personal growth, therapy, or stronger ties with the child’s mother. Instead, it prompts him to seek out emotional scaffolding from a former girlfriend. This reflects what some sociologists call “male parental entitlement,” where the transformational process of fatherhood becomes more about the man’s self-concept than the child’s needs.
Rather than step up on his own or build a new co-parenting structure with the biological mother, the ex attempts to recruit a former partner to do the relational heavy lifting—someone who already absorbed years of his emotional distance and walked away. It’s a move that’s not just audacious but deeply self-serving.
6. The Audacity of Rewriting History
Lastly, there’s something deeply violating about the ex’s framing of his daughter’s existence. Whether or not he knew about her at the time, his attempt to rewrite the end of their relationship by inserting a child into the timeline feels manipulative. It implies a kind of retroactive intimacy: “We could’ve had this family together” or “This child was almost ours.” But that’s not reality—it’s emotional revisionism designed to guilt or entice OP into caretaking.
What’s most jarring is how he uses OP’s stated desire for family as a tool. The implication is that her yearning was never specific, never relational—just a vague longing he can now fulfill. But wanting a family doesn’t mean agreeing to any family, under any terms, with any man.
Netizens applauded the author for not taking on that responsibility, stating that the ex probably just needs a babysitter
