Thinking about all the times I thought my step-dad was actually being a dad for once, but was just doing The Thingsâ„¢ to either put on an image for his friends or get back at my mom.
When he told me he'd had the cat put down, he pulled me into a very uncomfortable hug for the absolute first time in my seventeen-ish years. He only did that because a friend was over. It was weird, uncomfortable, and still, 13 years later, feels gross and wrong.
Or that other time he called me out of nowhere and asked to meet up. That he was going to finally take me to this bar and restaurant that was known for being the first bar people went to when they turned 21. Known for jumbo shrimp or something like that, I don't know. The hype wasn't worth it. My parents had been saying they'd take me since I was like eighteen, and sure enough, when 21 rolled around, we didn't go. Nor at 22, or 23, or 24... He took me there at 26 or 27 and just talked about taking pictures so he could rub it in my mom's face that he took me first. All he talked about the whole time was my mom. He didn't eat anything either, just watched me eat with a weird smile on his face. (Note, my mom broke up with him like two or three years prior to this, and to this day, he still hasn't let her go.) The only reason he'd called me to begin with was to try and get under my mom's skin. She didn't give two shits that he took me first. She was, and still is, highly neglectful.
I really do hate my step-dad. For so much more than these here, but emotional manipulation is real. And he used it against me since I was 2. I've since disowned him as my step-dad and have ceased all contact with him some two years ago. Shortly after the bar incident, if memory serves. But these things still hurt to think about. I was never important to him. He never cared about me, just about what image I could help provide for him. Fuck you, Jerry. I'm glad you're out of my life.
