When I was twelve, my best friend introduced me to her dad and i didnt know how to act. He was always very nice to me, courteous, always trying to make us laugh at the dinner table when I stayed over. He smiled all the time and when he got home from his job he kissed his wife and asked her about her day.
I was so fucking jealous of her dad. I was always asking to come over and I looked forward to getting to taste normalcy. it was so bizarre to me that my friend was unafraid of him. She loved her dad. I wanted that.
Once, I was supposed to spend the night. I called my mom six times to tell her but she didn’t pick up, so I left a voicemail saying that I was sleeping over. My dad came banging on the door at ten thirty, red faced and reeking of booze. He screamed at me and humiliated me in front of her family. Her dad got defensive and told my dad to relax, there was a miscommunication, that I hadn’t purposefully not told anyone where I was. My dad grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me out of the car and i was crying i was so embarrassed and heartbroken and he was saying horrible things about how horrible i was, how i was going to be grounded for a month and how i deserved it because i was the most irresponsible twelve year old in the world (?? I was twelve!!!) after that i stopped going to her house. I didn’t visit anymore. She tried to come to my house but it was hard to have fun at my house when my dad was always screaming. The only lesson any of it taught me was to be afraid and to not let people meet my dad.