Daddy’s Little Girl

You may recall previous blogs of mine that mention my mom. And in case you couldn’t tell by now, yes we are extremely close. But this post isn’t about me and my relationship with my mom, it’s about me and my relationship with my father. Or rather, lack thereof.

Some of u may be wondering y I never mention him on here. Well, it’s because I never had a father. And when I say that, I mean it. I don’t mean one day he stopped coming home, or he ducks in and out of my life from time to time. I mean his signature is not on my birth certificate. I mean he stood my mom up the day they were supposed to get their marraige license while I was still in her womb. I mean, he went off and married someone else and had 3 kids with her instead.

But don’t feel sorry for me. Compared to those whose parents divorced at an age old enough for them to remember, my situation is a blessing. I never had to deal with hearing my parents fight over money. I never had to ask mommy why she was putting on perfume just to go to the “grocery store,” or ask daddy why he smelled like the bar whenever he’d drop me off at school. And I never had to wonder if it was my fault they weren’t together anymore.

Growing up it didn’t bother me that all my friends dads chaperoned field trips to the museum, or that both parents showed up for parent teacher conferences. I didn’t even care that everyone else celebrated Father’s Day. To me, it was one less gift to buy every year. I wasn’t angry, or bitter, or resentful. I didn’t feel he owed me anything either (my mom yes, me? no). As a matter of fact, I felt absolutely nothing towards my father. Until one day …

… one day when I looked in the mirror and hated the reflection I saw. I had just finished getting ready for a night out, hair did and makeup flawless. But I had never felt so ugly and worthless in my life. It was only then while dwelling over my past failed relationships that I considered the effects of not having a father figure in my life.

How could I feel worthy of receiving a mans love, when I wasn’t even special enough for my own father to stay with me?

To say he was the reason I felt the way I did that day would be giving him too much credit. But I do believe his absence played a role in it. I never had a father to teach me the insights of the male mind. I never had a father to warn me about the “bad boys.” I never had him sit me on his lap and tell me I was his beautiful little princess and that one day I would turn into a Queen and deserved a King, and nothing less. I never had a father to wipe away my tears and explain why guys acted the way they do and did the things they did. I never had a father to tell me how different men and women were and how different we think. How not to push a man away, but also how not to let them take advantage of ur love. I didn’t have a father to tell me never to mock a mans tears because as my favorite blogger has said, “Those tears are the maps to the foreign places of a man’s heart and when we see them, we know we have never been there before and he probably hasn’t either.” I’m so sorry. I never knew.

There is nothing in the world that can replace the relationship a mother has with her daughter, or the relationship a father has with his son. Even if I had the best father in the world, he would never be able to french braid my hair or help me get ready for my first date like only a mother could. And no matter how loud a mans mom is cheering in the stands at his baseball game, there’s nothing like seeing the proud face of a father and feeling a sense of approval. But we should also take into account the importance of having relationships with our “other” parent as well.

We should also recognize that we can’t always use not having a father or a mother as an excuse to treat people or be treated by people a certain way. Luckily for me, I have a mother that reminds me everyday that I don’t have to be “Daddy’s little girl,” to be an amazing daughter, wife, or friend.

::Editors Note:: I met my father for the first time when I turned 14 in the Philippines per my moms request. Honestly, it was for her more than it was for me. All I wanted to do was swim and eat fruit salad. Since then, he’s kept in contact by emailing me from time to time. I think I’ve responded maybe 3 times in the past 2 years, and I still hold no ill-feelings towards him. I also forgot to mention this bit of info: my writing ability comes from him. Surprise, surprise.