I was seventeen when I had my first girlfriend. It was my father who gave her to me. She was Linda. She used to pass in front of our house to school every day. Fair, slender and beautiful. I was with my dad when she walked by one day. My dad asked, “Is she beautiful?” I was scared to answer, thinking it was a trap he was setting up for me. To see if I had a thing for girls. He said, “Be honest. You think she’s beautiful?” I nodded slowly and carefully not to upset him with my answer.
One day he called me from the outside of the house and I went. He was standing there with Linda, talking and laughing. When I got there he said, “That’s my son. He says he likes you because you’re beautiful. The girl giggled shyly. I looked away. My dad said, “Look at her. She likes you too.”
That was it. She visited often. I told my sisters how we met. They were shocked. I think they asked my dad about it because the following day my dad called me in and was very angry. He screamed, “You don’t have to tell your sisters everything. You’re the only man around here and if you’re going to grow into something of note, you have to listen to me and not talk to them about what we talk about or do. Do you hear me?”
I nodded. Again, carefully so I don’t upset him.
That started the weird journey between me and my dad. We would talk about Linda. He would ask if we had done something bad. He expected it but I was scared. He started guiding me. “Do this. Do that. When she tells you this, tell her that.”
According to him, he was holding my hand through the inevitable. If he didn’t give me a girlfriend, I would have found one anyway so it was better for him to do it for me. I didn’t have sex with Linda. We didn’t have a safe room. We built a friendship under my dad’s guidance until we both went to school.
When I was in the university, my dad visited me with a woman. She looked younger than my dad but the chemistry between them was very noticeable. He said, “This is Agatha. She’s my good friend. She lives around here so I asked her to come see you with me.”
The way he stressed the “good” while talking about their relationship meant something to me. Later when the lady was gone, he confessed, “She’s my chochomucho. (Side piece) I hope you don’t tell your mom or sisters. I’m not too old but your mom is already broken. She can’t keep up. I need one of these to keep me going.”
I didn’t judge him. I made him believe me so he could talk about anything to me. During my time in school, he came around with four different women. He called all of them chochomucho. I asked him, “You keep all these women aside Mom?”
He didn’t keep them. Once one leaves, he replaces her quickly before he starts to miss her. He advised me to do the same or else women would break me to pieces.
When Linda and I broke up, I told him. He said, “You’ve tried but don’t linger on the memories. Be a man and move to the next one.” I knew he was trying to teach me something but I was so mature I wanted to love women on my own terms.
When I was doing my Service, I found a new girl. I told my dad about it and he told me to get another one just in case. I didn’t listen to him but I lost that girl. It broke me to pieces. I decided I would go my dad’s way of doing things. I had three women at a time. I didn’t know who to love and who to play with. They were all good to me. They deserved better than the man I was. Regardless of everything, I had a conscience. I wasn’t happy. I let all of them go and told my dad to stop telling me what to do.
I pursued something different, something not women-related. I focused on my life, got a job and moved from the house. Once I settled that part of my life, I started looking for a girlfriend. Jennifer came along and I introduced her to my dad. He liked her but he insisted I added another one to safeguard my heart. I listened to him but didn’t do what he told me to do. I was living alone so I thought he wouldn’t have any influence on me from now on but I lied.
Nowadays, my dad wants to use my place as where he would like to meet his women. He brought one here and wanted to spend the night with her. I protested. My mom knew he was with me but didn’t know that was what he was doing. I asked him, “What if mom finds out? What if the girls also find out? No, you can’t do that.”
Eventually, I gave him money to look for a hotel. I thought it would be the last time because of how I reacted but no. He brought another woman. We fought about it until we settled on a hotel that I paid for.
It’s my fault. I enabled him and now he sees me as an ally in his sexual escapades. I hate it that I’m helping him to disrespect my mom and I hate it that I’ve become that son who helped his father to cheat on his mom. It breaks me. Sometimes I need someone to talk to, to give me ideas as to how to deal with a father like mine. I’ve tried what I have, but it didn’t work. I need new ways of doing things. How do I shut him out of my life or how do I help him to stop what he’s doing? He’s fifty-eight years old but to him, he feels like eighteen. How do I help him and help myself?
—James