You guys...don't want a dad like mine. I please ask you all to keep the following information confidential. Here is my story...My mom and dad met at a party. My mom said that it was kinda boring, and when she saw my dad sitting there in front of the television, smoking on the couch, he really wasn't much to look at. He really wasn't her type. So, she went to the ladies' room, and on her way back, she just decided to watch the television as well. Her feet became sore, and the only seat that was available was the one near my dad on the couch. So, she, thought, "Why not?" and sat down. The first words my dad said to my mom was "Nice outfit. I like your pants." when i heard this, i was like, "wtf??..." All the while, my mom was coughing and choking up the smoke she's inhaling. Then, to make matters worse, my mom became neighbors with my dad's parents. So, he wanted to see her oftem-more frequently. My mom hated him. She said he was annoying, and he always bothered her-but she didnt wanna seem rude in front of his parents, who were her neighbors. So, she went out with him. She hated him and his cheap-skate, nasty cigarette-smoking ways. the dates he brought her to were going out to eat b-b-q or hot dogs all the time. She even told me that the way he asked her to be his girlfriend was in a parking-lot of a store! Anyways, skipping some years, my mom and dad became married and had my sister. My dad was the scum of the Earth. He cheated on my mom even after marriage and to make matters worse, he'd bring my sister along with him to his girlfriends' houses. My sister even remembers a few of them. My mom knew, threw him out, but, wounds heal, and they got back together and had me. Sometimes i think i'm a mistake. If they hadn't had me, my mom could have filed for divorce and led an easier, much happier life. But no. So here i am, born. I spend some of my young life without him because he's in the Philippines handling some "business" of some sort. He finally comes back, and there's this smoke-smelly ugly guy that's staying with us. I'm being told that this is my father. I must have known-but forgotten. Right from the get-go, i dont like him. He's stinky and bossy and not a nice person to me. He'd make me sit at the table after dinner every night until i finished my food. I never would. sometimes i would, but it'd be 3:00 in the morning, but i didn't know that cuz i didn't know how to read time off the clock yet. Most nights though, i'd end up sleeping on the chairs in my dining room. The it started. The hitting sessions. I remember the first time. He was supposed to bring me somewhere, we were the only ones home, and we were late. He asked me to get him a certain pair of socks for him. I came back with the wrong kind of socks. He got mad at me..and pushed me. I fell backwards, but i didn't know why he did that. I was so confused. My butt kinda hurt, too. So i started crying quietly as i put his socks back. Later on, he said that he was sorry and he hugged me, and told me to next time be a good girl- so that was he wouldn't hit me. Another major time was during the summer of a certain year. He got so mad at me all the time. I forget why. I just remember the pain. He kicked me into the bar (the kind you make drinks behind) in my living room. It's made out of glass, so part of it broke. another time, he punched me in the face and i flew backwards, made a bit of a dent in the wall and broke a hallway mirror. People would ask what happened to the mirror. He just told them that it didn't look good there. But he'd do this and i'd get bruises...but no one would know, becausae they'd go away by the time school started. The last time i'm telling you about is when i finally decided to stand up for myself. But it isn't an empowering story like the ones you see on television or read about. It sucks, really. I remember Mark left me a message on the answering machine, ("Melissaaaa..pick up the phone...c'mon, pick up the phone") and my dad told me that it sounded as if he were bossing me around. The car was full: dad, mom, ate Steph, Jeremy and I were in it. (we were going to my grandma's house) so my mom started lecturing me on how i shouldn't let people push me around-and i said he wasn't saying it that way at all, that he was just joking around. Then my dad told me not to argue with my mom, and called me degrading things. so, i started crying. I guess it hurt my ego/confidence to hear that. He said, "Why are you crying, stupid?" and i started crying more, and i told him not to call me things and then i fired back, "and Mark may have sounded that way to you, but not to me, so back off". So, you need a remote thingie to open the gate to my lola's parking for the apartment, and he threw it at my face. It broke, and he made me pick up all the pieces. when he got out of the car, he came over and started to drag me out and kick and punch me..outside, for the world to see. I tried hitting him back, but they seemed like nudges compared to what he was doing. He told me he didn't care if i hated him, he would kill me if he wanted to..he didn't care. The worst part was that my entire family did nothing. They stood there and watched. When we got to my grandma's apartment, she tried defending me, but to no avail. My lola was sad, but she's an old, fragile woman, afraid for herself, as well. My siblings were crying..pitying me..afraid also..but said nothing. My mom...boy, is she a story. My mom took his side. she said, "why did you do that? when he says things to you, you agree. when he tells you to do something, you do it. Love him-he's your dad. you had an attitude with him-you know how he is, you can' t beat him with his own game-you don't fight fire with fire." I couldn't believe it. she was supposed to take my side...but instead, she stood by and watched him beat me. They all did. so yes, there's my sotry. Me and my fun-loving father. Dontcha just love it? Well, we mostly avoid each other now, and he isn't so violent, cuz his new hobby is feung shuei, and it talks about peace and harmony. Whatever. so yeah, you guys...don't want a dad like mine.