Nurture Wins

My mother only dated my biological father for a short time, but due to a broken condom, she ended up pregnant with me anyway. When she told my biological father, he freaked out, accused her of lying and of cheating on him, and otherwise acted like an a** while dumping her.

My mother met another man a few months later who she would marry. He was in my life from the moment I was born, and a wonderful father. Meanwhile, my biological father ignored any offer to be in my life that my mother made up until she gave up on making the offers.

Years later, when I was a preschooler, I was at a store with my parents when they ran into my biological father. I was too young to follow their conversation, other than having a vague sense my parents weren’t happy with the strange man they were talking to, until he eventually approached me. 

During this whole conversation, my parents were trying to get him to leave, which he completely ignored while continuing to talk to me. I don’t know their exact words, so I won’t try writing them down here, but I assure you they were trying to stop him from bothering me the entire time.

Biological Father: “Hey [My Name], I’m your father.”

Me: “No, you aren’t. He’s my daddy.” *Pointing to the man who raised me.*

Biological Father: “No, I’m the one who made you.”

Me: “Mommy made me in her belly.”

Biological Father: “But I’m your dad; I’m the one that got her pregnant.”

Me: “You’re not my dad! He’s my dad!”

Biological Father: “He’s just some loser that married your mom. I’m your real father; I made you.”

I was already upset at this point since this strange man was clearly not liked by my parents and was ignoring them while telling me what I consider blatant lies. However, his last comment was said in an angry, raised voice, which is enough for me to go from upset to afraid. So, I turn to comfort from someone I’ve depended on my entire life.

Me: “Daddy!”

I run to the man that actually raised me, and beg for him to pick me up, which he of course did.

Biological Father: “He’s not your real dad, I am!”

Me: “He is too! You’re a liar! Go away!”

Biological Father: “I’m the one who…”

Me: “GO AWAY!”

I screamed this last part at the top of my lungs, then started bawling my eyes out while burying my head in my father’s arms. We had probably already drawn attention before that point, but my scream assured the timely intervention of management.

He tried to protest he did nothing wrong, but making a preschool girl cry doesn’t exactly enamor you with anyone. He was asked to leave us alone, and when he didn’t, he ended up being escorted out of the building. 

I’m told the store also offered my parents a discount on their purchase at the store to make up for the experience. All I knew at the time, though is that the scary lying man was finally gone and my mom and dad were now hugging me and comforting me.

My parents ended up explaining who ‘the lying man’, as I started calling him, was that day. At the time, my understanding was that he had somehow helped me start growing in my mom’s belly, but didn’t want to be my daddy and left before I was born. I had only one thing to say to all of it, and I apparently said it multiple times during their explanation.

Me: “He’s not my daddy!”

I was quite clear I didn’t like the ‘lying man,’ and he was not allowed to be my daddy. I continued calling him ‘the lying man’ for another year or so before transitioning to referring to him by his name. I refused to use a phrase like ‘biological father’ and would get mad at anyone else who referred to him that way since I only had one dad! Honestly, even listing him as my biological father in the above dialog makes me feel a bit dirty; if I could have thought of any other description that wouldn’t cause confusion to use for him instead, I would have used that.

He showed up a number of times in my life after, always demanding I treat him as something special while ignoring my parents and acting like an entitled jerk. I always told him to go away and that he wasn’t my dad. Eventually he got the message and stopped trying. 

Once I got older, at my parents’ encouragement, I did meet and develop a relationship with other family members of the ‘lying man’. I met my paternal aunt, who is quite sweet, and all of her kids, and have had a little contact with my paternal grandparents.

However, I was always adamant, from preschool through college, that there was only one man who I would ever consider my father, and it was not ‘the lying man’.