True Story©... Paternitable Questionality
My boredom will kill me one day…
So I am sitting in the
living room with the big TV, minding my own business one d--…
Wait!
Y’all know those
commercials where the MOST vanilla and racially unambiguous American is talking
to the camera about doing their ancestry.com profile to dig deeper into their
own personal beginnings and at the end of the commercial they’re in full-on
cultural appropriation mode?
So back to me and the big
Vizio…
One time Mimi is at work and I am home with computers and no adult supervision. I go onto one of those DNA testing sites and order up one of those kits through my job’s discount program. I send the information in on the form and leave the DNA results open for matches to perhaps meet up with some unknown and undiscovered family members. I mean, my aunt on dad’s side has done extensive research in an era where family bibles were the only way to learn things and mom’s side all knows each other well, so it felt harmless.
One time Mimi is at work and I am home with computers and no adult supervision. I go onto one of those DNA testing sites and order up one of those kits through my job’s discount program. I send the information in on the form and leave the DNA results open for matches to perhaps meet up with some unknown and undiscovered family members. I mean, my aunt on dad’s side has done extensive research in an era where family bibles were the only way to learn things and mom’s side all knows each other well, so it felt harmless.
Well, back in college, I may or may not have gotten involved in
paid sperm donation when it was too hot to curb-serve small rate narcotics and
weed on the side. I was working three
clinics each in my own and three adjacent counties who didn’t use
interconnected systems, two donations a week each. Two years of community college, then a year
of regular college and another two of community college (don’t judge me), that
means I was donating 12 times a month 8 months a year for five years. I have no hand in how many of the samples
actually got used or how many still have yet to be used, BUT I know that the
above math means I was compensated for expressing 480 samples.
This ended at age 23, that was 2002.
This ended at age 23, that was 2002.
So as I go on through life; minding my business and only siring
ONE legal child, born to me in 2011 all is well.
2017… I should have fucking known better.
2017… I should have fucking known better.
How does one in my position
respond to this?
This girl is 18, apparently exists as a nut I got paid to bust before
I could even legally buy a beer. I NEED
to tell her that she is not one of my drunken weekend trysts, and that if she
had been then I would be a very present and OVERTLY active part of her life. I gave her my number. When she called, then texted me, I invited
her to lunch to explain it all…
Me: “Look--…”
Her: “Listen, you don’t have to---…”
Me: “Don’t cut me off again, please”
Her: “Sorry”
Me: “Look. I don’t know your mother,
never met her. I don’t know why she told
you this story about not knowing me and creating this deadbeat story.”
The look on her face changed, I wish I could be surprised.
Her: “But you couldn’t stick around after you--…”
Me: “After I WHAT?!”
Her: “My mother?”
I expected this. I slid a manila folder with my contract(s) for sperm donation across the table to her.
Me: “Open that, please”
She read the letterhead and chuckled. She looked up at me.
Her: “Are you…”
Me: “Serious as it gets, babygirl.”
Her: “I’m sorry.”
Me: “No need for apologies. You went
on the intel you had when you got it.
Adjust to new information as you have it.”
Her: “Well now my mama has some answering to--…”
Me: “NO!”
Her: “Huh?”
Me: “She has her reasoning. You’re
grown now. I guess the fundamental has
it that I am your father, but I was never designed to be ‘daddy’ so only take
this for what you will. She brought you
along on what she knew when she knew it.
I can not stand in front of that.”
Her: “Understood. Mr. [Redacted],
thank you for closure.”
Me: “My name is Phillip, call me Phlip if you're a friend. You’re welcome. For what it is
worth, you favor all the other women in the family. Your grandma, your auntie, your baby sister.”
Her: “Pic?”
I showed her a picture of moms, my sister and Ava all together and
she was immediately floored at the accuracy of my statement. She thanked me for my time, I thanked her for
her understanding and that was the end of it.
In the months since, I have
only heard from her sparingly. I learned
that her mother was a woman who I'd daydreamed my chances with in my more shy days in school, but was
so mean to me that I never even bothered chancing it with. The irony STILL causes me to wake up and
randomly laugh now. She wishes me (and
her baby sister) happy birthday and me her.
She is in college and I am working with her on her creative writing
every time she emails me about it.
Legally she knows I know that am bound to nothing, but she did so well
on the way through that she asks me for nothing.
FB stalking tells me that her mother
could have played her cards better for (strangely) the same AND better outcomes
at the same time when we were 14.
Of the 500-some donations I was paid for 20+ years ago, I wonder how many I can expect to hear from now.
Fuggit, I got paperwork. I can wait on 'em.
Of the 500-some donations I was paid for 20+ years ago, I wonder how many I can expect to hear from now.
Fuggit, I got paperwork. I can wait on 'em.
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