I’ve spoken about my father several times. In fact I dedicated an entire contest (World’s Worst Father) to him in June. Which despite the fact only a few people entered, I’ll continue next year to celebrate all those sperm donors who suck!

Before the ink was even dry on the divorce papers he shacked up with the lady across the hall in his apartment complex. Honestly, I don’t understand what attracted her to him. He was a smoking insurance salesman in a cheap suit and she was 20 years younger.

She hated us. She hated kids in general. I know hate is a strong word, but she actually wrote little reminder notes to herself on post-it’s. One said - “Talk to Bob about the children from hell.” That was us.

Their relationship did not last but a few years. I would say my brother and I were a little bit of a strain, but you can’t blame it all on our behavior. After all we only visited every-other weekend and Wednesday nights.

At the time I was 13 and going through all those changes a teenager experiences. I was angry at my father for leaving and I was angry at him for hooking up with this woman. So one afternoon I came across her diaphragm in the bathroom cabinet.

Having already sat through sex-ed I knew what this thing did. Using a needle I poked several holes through the rubber circle, closed the lid, washed my hands and put it back in the cabinet.

I know what you’re thinking.

I CAN’T BELIEVE SHE DID THAT! Believe it.

It wasn’t that I wanted them to procreate. At 13 the only revenge I could set forth on her and my father was to punish them with something neither wanted.

Tonight I saw her for the first time in 17 years. A lot has changed. Admittedly she looks good. She’s married and has a 4 year old girl. Maybe we changed her heart? Or maybe someone else poked a hole in her contraception? All I know is I’m not responsible for this child….unless she’s still using the same diaphragm.

It made me reflect on how different my life and hers would be today had just one sperm made it through that hole.

Word to the wise - if you have step-children it might be a good idea to go check your diaphragm. (Maybe even hide it.)

I decided to end this week with an inside look at how my father really feels. He sent this letter about a year ago, right before he was released from prison (which is a whole other story for another time).

I have to say it was shocking to read and hurtful, but it was the icing on a cake that should have been thrown away a long time ago. Obviously he has some serious issues.

LAST CHANCE TO ENTER.
All entries must be received by midnight.

E,

Of all the things you’ve done to me over the years I can’t believe it has come down to this. Didn’t you get my Christmas card? I can’t believe my own daughter and son tried have turned against me! Why the f**k haven’t you visited me here? Why the hell haven’t you let me see my only grandson? What the f**k kind of a daughter are you anyway?

I wish you weren’t mine for d*mn sure. From the way you have treated me like some convict and the way you have abandoned Brenda since I’ve been gone is sick. You deserved to die in that car accident. You are pathetic you know that? Your piece of shit brother deserved to die as well. If he’d tried a little harder maybe it would have happened.

For whatever it’s worth you make me sick.

Bob

Here’s to you Bob! You may not be the worst father in the world, but you’re the worst father I’ve ever had.

How do you follow a Christmas Eve spent at Best Buy threatening to rip people’s arms off? If you are my father then you cancel Christmas all together.

Many people who grew up with divorced parents know the alternate weekend and Wednesday evening routine. You spend every other weekend with your father and then Wednesday evenings at McDonald’s. In addition you either rotate holidays or split them as we did, by going with our father on Christmas Eve and our mother on Christmas.

The year after the Best Buy fiasco my father and I were discussing our Christmas Eve plans. It typically involved him picking us up (late), traveling about an hour away to visit his father in a nursing home and taking him to eat at the only place open in a small town on Christmas Eve - The Ferdy Flyer. As if the name doesn’t say enough, it was the kind of place that served homemade turtle soup if that gives you a good picture. But eventually The Ferdy owners decided to call it quits and then we were forced to find another place.

My father decided a tavern would be a good family choice. Don’t worry it had a family eating area. My brother and I sat in there drinking cokes and eating potato chips (because that is all they served), while my father and his dad sat at the bar drinking.

As we discussed the plans I asserted some common sense and asked if my brother and I could drive separately and meet him up there. My hope was that we could travel a little safer. My father saw it as, “just another instance where my mother could screw him out of the time he deserved.”

This argument went on for a while of course. I tried to explain we wanted to be back in time to attend Midnight Mass with my mom, which went over like a lead balloon. When I finally explained that his drunk driving scared the living heck out of me he had a serious come-a-part.

Despite everything I had thought about my father up to this point, he proved to have more control and power than I ever imagined. He canceled Christmas that year. No threatening to rip arms off, no tavern chips for dinner, no drunk driving….

It was the best darn present I ever got!

1 DAY LEFT TO ENTER!

This will be a story about Bob rather than a letter, but his words were still heard. Loud and clear. It was Christmas of my senior year of high school (only 7 months after the Prom Episode). My older Mercury Topaz had a radio but no cassette player and that is what I got from my father (and soon-to-be stepmother).

Nice gift. I was pretty excited to listen to tapes which sounds crazy, because today we’re beyond cd’s and moved on to digital music.

So my father, being the genius that he is, decides to schedule an appointment at Best Buy on Christmas Eve to have this new cassette player installed. Only the second biggest shopping day of the year folks! So he meets me at the store and they tell us it will take about 3 hours. We go eat lunch nearby, mess around and come back only to find out they haven’t even started yet (imagine that!?).

This is when my father’s temper starts to show it’s true colors of red with a trace of blue running through his forehead. Next, we walk around the store after the service man got an earful and told us it would be up next.

As I’m skimming through all the cool new cassette’s I can buy to listen to now, I hear our name on the intercom to come back to the service bay. My father got there before I did and it’s never a good sign when you can hear someone yelling on the other side of a steel door.

Apparently we needed to purchase some extra piece and my father is angry because the salesman guaranteed him it would require no extra parts when he purchased it. (Come to find out later my father also told him the wrong vehicle he was buying it for.)

Several more hours of hanging out in Best Buy on Christmas Eve go by…..very slowly. I’m beginning to ponder if it was even worth it. Then the familiar voice calls our name again. The problem now is that they don’t have all the pieces they need, so they won’t be able to complete it today and can’t put us back on the schedule for 3 weeks (because most people who bought car stereo equipment for gifts scheduled their installation for AFTER Christmas).

That didn’t go over too well as you can imagine. In a waiting room full of people my father turned psycho. You know the kind of psycho who threatens service workers. I didn’t hear what the guy behind the counter said, but my father yelled a phrase I will never forget: “I’m going to come across that counter, rip your f**king arm off and beat you to death with it!”

The guy called for a manager and security while he still had 2 arms. In my head I’m imagining police will soon follow. It’s sad that the people in the waiting area all got up and left, probably scared for their own lives (and arms)!

There was a lot more yelling between the time security was called and the time security arrived. In which my father took to his advantage by continuing to threaten this young kid. I just wanted to hide. But where? They had my car.

It was all worked out several hours later with no police intervention. My cassette player was properly installed about 3 weeks later and I haven’t been back to Best Buy since. I can only imagine in their break room there is probably a picture of my father from the security camera that says - CAUTION: May Rip Your F**king Arm Off & Beat You With It!

Your turn. Only 3 days left to tell us your story. Remember the prizes….$25 gift card to Wilson’s Leather, $15 gift card to Starbucks & a special prize I promise you’ll enjoy!!!

Day two and you’re coming back for more “worst dad” stories. I appreciate the comments, but many of you respond with empathy and that isn’t really what I’m after. I’ve lived this (or at least I did) and finally decided a couple years ago that it was over.

My father at one time was a very respectable man and had good qualities. These posts are from my past. I’ve moved on. This is my way of dealing with memories I wish I didn’t have, but the reality is they happened. I try to find the humor in it. My challenge to you is the same.

E,

Just a quick note to let you know that Brenda and I did not appreciate you ignoring us Saturday. We didn’t tell you we were coming because I’m your father d*mn it! I don’t have to. Why is it so wrong for us to be waiting at the restaurant on your prom night to eat and take pictures with your friends? Just because your mother and I are divorced doesn’t mean I lost my rights to be part of your life. I do pay a weekly child support amount that helps pay for things like prom dresses!

Dad

For those of you trying to keep up, by my junior year in high school Louise was gone and Brenda had entered the picture as the significant other. My father was angry that I didn’t invite him to our house to see me dressed up for prom. He decided to be at the restaurant when my date and I arrived with friends. No kidding. There they were standing outside with two freaking camera’s. I tried to be cordial, but when I found out they made reservations for a table right next to ours, I admit I lost it.

HOW EMBARRASSING! {Do you think I told him where we were eating on my senior prom? Hell no!}