Papa (Is) a Rolling Stone

       Father-daughter relationships are special. Your father is supposed to give you insight into male behavior and shield you from harm. In modern society, this doesn't happen regularly. What has happened to fathers?



       My father was 21 when I was born and in the Army. He expected that he and my mother would get married. My mother declined, which was best since they are so ill suited for each other. I met him when I was 5 years old. Even upon meeting him, he spoke mostly about me changing my last name. I told him no. I saw him sparsely throughout the following years. He'd even told people I wasn't his child. This lie caught up with him when he was working with a friend of my mother's and didn't know it. My mother wasn't amused. He ping ponged in and out of my life when he wanted to impress a current girlfriend. He also would favor their children over me. At 12, I decided to stop seeing him after he put me in a car and yelled at me until I cried. He reached out again when I was 15. He immediately began talking about my newborn brother instead of trying to repair our relationship. I was done, or so I thought.



       About a month after my high school graduation, my father popped up over my house. My reaction to him was cold. He and I went to his father's grave. He told me he wanted to establish a relationship. I told him bluntly that if he disrespected me or mistreated me, I wanted him to lose my phone number. He agreed.


 
      From ages 18-24, we were on decent terms, but we frequently had disagreements because my father doesn't like to be held accountable or to deal with people who don't share his opinions. He won't agree to disagree. When he and my stepmom split, he was angry that I wouldn't stop communicating with her. He even accused me of telling people that  they were divorcing. I hadn't. He began leaving rude voicemail messages, which I ignored.


 
      The week of my 25th birthday, he called me at my job and screamed at me over the work phone and hung up in my face. He wanted to know why I hadn't called him. I was seething. I promised to call when I was out at work. Boy, did I. I shredded him. I told him how disrespectful he'd been to me my entire life and how disrespectfully he'd treated my siblings. I told him that I was done with his childishness. I let him have it when he tried to interrupt me. He'd interrupted my life enough. I told him never to call me again. This time, I hung up.


     I occasionally saw him at church. It bothered me how he pretended to be a decent person and falsely represented himself to the others that attend our church. They don't know that he's been married 5 times, that he barely supports my 4 other siblings, and that he is frequently unfaithful in relationships. He now resides in Hawaii, lying and impregnating other women, I'm sure. His service to this great nation is the only place that he hasn't failed as a man.


     This story has a  happy beginning and ending. I was raised by my maternal grandfather, who taught me what a father should be. When I had chicken pox, he went to my school and picked up my work to keep me from being behind. He comforted me and let my tears soak his shoulder after my first heartbreak. My actual father saw an ex that I'd almost gotten engaged to and told him he accepted his new life. My grandfather, taught me things, like the importance of self worth and independence. He never let me slide with subpar grades. I owe my work ethic, inner strength, and faith in God to him.


    Though my actual father failed me, I have a good example of what a father is. My grandfather was the first to hold me when I was born and that's when our bond started. Sometimes the relationships you need and hold dear don't come in the form you thought they would, but that doesn't make them any less valuable.

Hell in High Heels

     No matter how nice you are, there is always a button that can be pushed. I'm no different. The question is: What does it take?


     I don't consider myself a confrontational person, but if trouble comes my way, I deal with it. One night last December, Liza and I decided to have a much needed girl's night out. The bar that we went to was one that neither of us had ever been to before. I thought one of my favorite local d.j.s was spinning. The problem was he spins on Saturday and we were there on a Friday. Liza and I made the best of it. The music was good and the wait staff was awesome. Our seating was not so great. We were sitting against the wall behind a round table of about 13 guys and 2 ladies. In spite of our awkward placement, we were still having fun.


     As the night progressed, one of the guys at the table that we were sitting behind had a little too much to drink. He thought it would be funny to knock over the Club Keno slips that were on his table. The waitress picked them up and tried to laugh off his bad behavior. Next, he knocked a pitcher of ice water on three women sitting by the door. The woman who got splashed the worst was wearing a short skirt. Keep in mind this was in mid-December. Noticing his behavior, Liza moved the bowl of salsa that we'd had for our chips towards her and asked if I wanted to move. I told her that he should move because he was the one causing trouble.


     As Liza and I chatted, I felt a slight touch on my arm. I looked over to see "the jerk" touching me.


     "What are you doing?" I asked pointedly.


     "I can't touch you?" he asked.


     "No. I don't like some men  I know touching me, so I really don't like men I don't know touching me," I replied.


     He stopped for a couple of seconds and began doing it again.


     "Stop it," I said turning toward him.


     Finally, he stopped touching me. He then decided to interrupt Liza and I as we were talking.


     "Are you going to keep doing that?" I asked.


     "Yes." he sneered.


     " Stop it. You're pissing me off," I warned.


     Finally, he went too far. A few seconds later, he stretched out his arm to our table and tried to flip over our bowl of salsa on us. Luckily, Liza caught it in time. All I could envision was this red salsa on Liza's nice semi-new light pink sweater and I lost it.


     I'm not afraid to tell you I used some "unorthodox" language. I was so mad that I don't even remember everything I said. I apparently startled his friends, who moments ago had laughed at his antics. They rushed over to me, imploring me to calm down and even offering to pay my bill. This only made me more angry. When a woman's angry, telling her to calm down is a bad idea.


     "I am calm! Your friend is still sitting upright, so I am calm!"


     Long story short, he was asked to leave and his friends got him out. As with anything, it's the principle that matters. I shouldn't have had to go temporarily insane for his friends to check his behavior.


     We all have things that will pull us out of character. Before losing your cool, you have to ask if it's worth it. Standing up for my friend and I was worth it to me. If you want to see my temper, keep bothering me or those I care about.