Used the Bible and fear of punishment from god to keep us in line. That way he could say no or hit us or humiliate us and never be the bad guy because he was being a good Christian dad.
Used the Bible and fear of punishment from god to keep us in line. That way he could say no or hit us or humiliate us and never be the bad guy because he was being a good Christian dad.
Jack me off after softball practice
cheat on my mom
I was a fat kid which was unusual for the 70s, my dad bless his heart was ashamed of me but tried not to show it . He tried to motivate me with fear. When we were out and he saw a person with a missing limb , especially a foot or leg , he would pull me aside and point them out to me and would say " That person ate too much and got diabetes so they had to cut off his/her leg , if you keep gaining weight that will happen to you !!!"
I did lose over 100 lbs using weight watchers when I was 18. But that stuff sticks with me to this day about the missing limbs, it did actually motivate me in a way.
take me to his gym where I had a feast of eye candy; long, dangling cocks, ballsacs, hairy chests and armpits and my favorite when the men bent over, either smooth asscracks or hairy asscracks. damn, what fun that was, and nobody noticed I was having so much fun.
Abandon me when I was a small child.
Eating raw potatoes with salt
He should have used a grammar book to keep you in line instead of a bible, OP.
Not only my dad,but most men would just whip out their dicks and pee wherever they were. Discreetly of course,but it was so common I saw scads of dicks before i even knew I liked them! My brothers STILL do it.
Things that, upon reflection, make me think he's a pedo/child molester.
Lay on the couch in his boxers watching TV with his hand down his boxers fondling himself--not jacking off, just playing.
My dad would often come into my room after a shower just wearing a towel. From about the time I was 16-20. He'd just come in and chat, catch up. I never really thought it was strange back then but now it seems a little weird.
R8 that would make a great thread, here have you seen men whip it out and piss? I have seen this in France and Ireland, more in rural areas but also the cities. In France, aI saw a gypsy let it all hang out in a small town. He knew he was hot too, the way he held his monstrous dick and splayed the piss around.
my father would take a red pen and color in the lips of a lot of women in pictures we had. (except his mom).....it still creeps me out
and i threw the photos away. I can kinda figure it out but it is so creepy.
Patsy, you have to get yourself together and help me stage the crime scene!
Yes, you could fucking lose you Miss West Virginia title over this!
Whenever he washed his face he would cup water in his hands like normal, but when he'd stick his face in it he'd blow violently- as if he were drowning. My mom always had to go in after him and clean off the counter and mirror from all the soapy spray.
He couldn't swim, maybe that was it.
Do free favors for friends even though he had no money.
Tell us that if we didn't eat more the wind would pick us up and carry us away. We were skinny but the wind didn't budge us so for his sake we would pretend to be afraid.
Where to begin!
He would take hot biscuits and press them to his chin before eating them.
My dad had zero connection with me or my brother...you could tell he would be just as happy if we were never around. He was completely detached.
Fart in my face and laugh about it
I would get him back though
We noticed your gayling boner R4, we noticed.
Jesus R20 you have to elaborate.
He would make promises to do something with us, then when the day came he'd deny he made any such promise and tell us we were mental cases and liars. For three weeks I believed him when he said he was going to take me to see Star Wars on my birthday and when my b-day came he looked at me like I was stupid and denied making the promise.
Talk out loud to himself and talk to TV. He said it was to clear his head and get his thoughts out in the open.
He'd pop corn, put it in the bowl, turn the salt shaker upside down over it and move it around and around as the salt POURED over it. The salt would be crusted on the bottom.
Humming tunelessly while he was eating. That's how we knew he was in a good mood.
My dad had zero connection with me or my brother...you could tell he would be just as happy if we were never around. He was completely detached.
Same with me. He even ignored my mom. We later found out he was bi-polar. He'd forget birthdays and even Christmas! I'll never forget when as an adult, he called me up from work on Christmas Eve and asked me to come meet him to pick out a gift for my mom! He was very selfish, his gifts were always awful. He never bought my mom jewelry or something she'd like, he'd by her a set of pots!
I was so angry, I told him "Christmas is the same time every year, what the fuck is wrong with you!" I was so happy to be out of that household.
Both parents came from dysfunctional families, then proceeded to make one of their own! They should never have married and had kids. No, my mom wasn't pregnant when they married, they wanted to get married. It's a miracle that my siblings and I never had substance abuse or other problems. My parents didn't drink or do drugs, yet were so detached they might as well have. My mom did her best but her bad marriage made her depressed. Neither sought medical help when they were younger. By the time my dad's bi-polar disorder was discovered he was an old man.
I envied all my friends who came from normal and happy households. Every Summer I'd go to my best friend's parents Summer house for two weeks, those were some of the best times of my life.
When my brother and I were about 5 we would rough-house with him and climb up on his chest when he laid down. When I would kiss him he'd stick his tongue in my mouth for a split second and we would squeal and yell ew and gross and tumble to get away. It was playful, honest, and nothing else happened ever, but....now I think it's very weird.
R30 loved it. Sick pig!
sang "Mud, Mud, PI Mud. HAD A LOAD OF TATERS!"
Not Googleable. Not a response to anything. Just sitting in his chair, watching sports or some two-star 1950s or 1960s fluff movie, and erupting "Mud, Mud, PI Mud. HAD A LOAD OF TATERS!"
Drank and fought with my mother. Or perhaps my mother fought with him. It made for a very strange, disruptive life. And now that he's gone, it's one of the few things I remember about them and him.
He used to lay down on the couch and close his eyes and pretend to be sleeping but his eyes would be slightly open and the whole time he would be staring at us through his eye lashes. He would do this for hours pretending to be sleeping and staring at us.
He would never pay our allowance. We would work hard all week but he would say i'll pay you later. He never did.
He never cleaned anything in his whole life, I never saw him vacuum or do laundry once. He would cook but only for himself. Both my parents worked. He wouldn't throw something in the trash even if the garbage was inches away.
He enjoyed giving us kids spankings on our bare naked asses with his belt. He would say I wanna beat your asses red or say I wanna make your asses red hot!
One time me and my sister were digging around my parents bedroom and we found a box full of sex stuff- lingerie, sex props and vibrators. In the box we found a wig that was my teenage sister's exact hairstyle and color of her hair. My sister held up the wig and said ewww that looks just like MY hair. Apparently my father liked my Mom to look like my sister when they had sex.
He was mostly a selfish, lazy and detached parent. Which was a good thing. Any interaction with him was for some selfish and exploitative purpose. When he would pay attention to me it would make me nervous because that meant he wanted me to do something his lazy ass didn't want to do.
R34. Strange dude.
Dad was former Air Force, even worked the reserves for a while before I was born. By the time I was around he was a suit type, doctorate in education and a director at the school board. Worked long hours. Quiet unless he was angry.
I found his porn stash one day. A handful of Playboys and Penthouses, and over a dozen Playgirls.
I can't look at that porn actor Brad Kalvo - looks too much like Dad did at that age.
Walk around in low cut briefs, sometimes white but often blue, black, or red. He was in good shape with a well shaped ass, so I think that's where my fetish for mature guys in briefs comes from. One day after school when no one was home I took a pair from the hamper and sniffed the balls and ass part. The smell was so erotic.
Oh the dad hated me bottom is here again. Get over it already.
He'd call-out the same words, phrases, TV jingles and theme songs ("Magilla, Gorilla for saaaale!"). Or just make nonsensical sounds.
I now think it was a mild form of Tourette's Syndrome.
He used to lay down on the couch and close his eyes and pretend to be sleeping
My father did that too. It got to the point that when he laid down on the sofa we'd all leave the living room because it annoyed him. After 10 or 15 minutes he'd get up and find some reason to yell at us and hit us.
When out in public, he would pretend to have an artificial leg and walk with one of his legs totally stiff
Every time at the dinner table📗, he had to blow his nose very loud
Mine thought he was the greatest Country singer ever. He sang all the time but he was awful🙈.
Oh god my father did so many weird things. Just a few of 'em...
>He ate head cheese and tried to force me to eat it. (No, not THAT head cheese.)
>He would half hum and half whistle along with the songs on the Lawrence Welk Show. Off key.
>He called me a sissy.
>He pronounced the Van Wyck Expressway as the "Wan Vyck."
>He used to chase me around the house when he'd decided I'd done something wrong and when he finally caught me, he'd whack me on the ass multiple times with a wooden mixing spoon.
He wore white fucking socks with everything even dress clothes
Pretended I didn't exist. He's dying so now I exist.
R34 I suspect your dad was the one wearing that wig. Either way, he was creepy.
Ŵhy would anyone want to pretend to be asleep? What's the point?
The only weird food my father liked was sausages, especially blood pudding. His parents were Brits.
Never talked about the fact that his mother was Jewish.
1. I had older gay brother and when i was 16 my dad was working on my little car with me and he said look you are going to visit your brother, just know that in his world "todays conquest is tommorrows competition" ... why would a dad say something like that to a 16yr old kid, i think i was straight then . i like girls then. it was weird.. my dad was officer in the navy
2.my younger sister used to hide in my room in the window alcove as a joke. i told me dad and he said i want to talk to you upstairs . I met with him he said your little sister says you were in your room moving your penis up and down. ( i was not so it was very very weird for him to confront me lke this.) i immediately went to my little sister i said why did you tell dad that. and she was like ..wwwwhatt? i never said that. i knew she was being honest she really never said that to him or saw me do that 3.my dad never paid any attention to any of us kids. then when he retired was home alone with just our last dog. he wrote letters to me about how he loved all his kids. long letters it was kind of sad but it was too late. i was in my 30s then , i chucked the letters could have cared less . so i was not molested at all but any insights into the above. I understand this is data lounge so all i ask is if you are going to do the snarky bit you at least make it good and funny. Also any psychology insight into what was going on is appreciated
i think i was straight then . i like girls then. it was weird.. my dad was officer in the navy
R52. Thats all you got? boring......... simple request . If you need to be an asswipe which is expected on here. then at least be a FUNNY asswipe
After reading this thread I think it's pretty clear how some of you turned out gay.
You people are fucked up.
The list is endless but here are a few of his greatest hits.
1) The food on his plate couldn't touch. My poor mother had to meticulously plate any food she prepared for him. If anything touched in the slightest or even if the food didn't touch he'd throw a fit and have it 'sent back' to be re-plated.
2) My father would smell me and my three other siblings. We were all boys, close in age and at a time during our pre to early teens that we had to be forced to shower everyday. This was during the Summer months when we weren't in school. We were to shower before he came home from work. Which we all did for the most part. But, everyday after work, dad would come home, line up us four boys have us take off our shirts and sniff under our armpits. This eventually stopped as each of us went through puberty.
3) He use to fondle himself watching television. Not all the time but every so often. He'd be there in his chair, watching television with his hand occasionally caressing his dick. I don't know if he realize what he was doing or not but whenever he started that up I'd leave the room. Even if there was something we watching as a family that I really wanted to see.
Just opening up this thread has a flood of weird shit my dad did come flooding back to me!
He threw his shoe at the tv and cursed everytime he saw a jew on tv.
I think that a lot of us had the same dad. 1. My dad would pretend that he was asleep on the couch. I would go in the kitchen to fix myself something to eat and eventually follow me into the kitchen. 2. He would make my brother and me fight each other in front his buddies as they bet on the winner. The loser always got a whipping. 3. After an evening of drinking, my father would want to hug and kiss me with a sandpaper after 5 shadow. His rough beard really hurt my as he tried to kiss me and I fight to get away from him. A few times he cried saying that my mother turned me against him and that I did not like him. 4. He always wanted me to join the military so that it will make me a man but just hours before I left to ship out he cried for me not to go. 5. If he heard that some other kid was being mischievous, he would threaten to ship me to Reform School if I were to misbehave.
Adding. my dad was really really cheap. my mom was somewhat lax with money. always had her hair done in a blond kim novak behive.weekly. so my mom bitched at my dad "you have to buy him a graduation gift"(from high school) . so i come home on the day of graduation. and on the dinning room table is the seiko watch i told my mom i wanted. its not wrapped just sitting there in the blue box and a piece of cardboard ripped off a box . My dad wrote "this is the last time the pig goes to the trough"
Ugh. I've tried to let it go. He used to fuck the shit out of my mom. Their sex noises......UGH....
I have been laughing aloud so much with this tread the endorphins are at maximum overdrive; I am so high on them right now!
Glad to be of service. R61 LOL.
Yea this is a great thread. Hope it does not get shitty. the postings are honest. its good
When we were in our teens after one of my brothers or I came out of the bathroom after a shower/bath, he would ask us if we pulled our foreskins back and cleaned our penises. HE WOULD DO THIS EVEN WHEN WE HAD COMPANY--friends or family. It was so fucking embarrassing. Imagine being 15 and walking out of the bathroom and my parents have several couples over for a party or cards and he asks in front of everyone "Did you retract your foreskin and wash like you're supposed to?" Christ wept.
Strange shit your dad used to do when you were growing up
Make me suck him off on Sundays after church.
What a bunch of disgusting men.
What kind of freaks hang from your family trees? This thread explains a lot about most of the people who post on DL.
Would bathe with me and my two brothers, all of us crammed into tub to save time and water. Ugh.
R51, when your Dad finally reached out, youbshould have. Parents are just human, pretty imperfect.
What explains a fat straight chick like you hanging out at a gay site, r54?
My dad always made fun of me and yelled at me. It made me learn to defend myself verbally-the only option I had. It kept me from being bullied in school because I had learned some great 'zingers' at my dad's expense. I think he knew I was Gay before I did-and that just made things worse. He seemed to go out of his way to be mean to my poor mother-but she still adored him. The apple of his eye was my older, half-sister-from his first marriage. Mom and I were sort of an afterthought if he thought of us at all. He refused to make a will which I always suspected was so that my mom wouldn't get everything and that my half-sister would somehow get more. It turned out it was because he hadn't put my mom's name on the deed to their house, which we only discovered after he died. In the end, it was my half-sister he screwed financially-my mom got the first $200,000 of the estate and we each got a third of the house. My mom died before his estate was settled, so I got Mom's $200,000...her third of the house as well as my own...and the beloved daughter got nothing from my mom's estate, as a step-child has no legal claim on a step-parent unless adoption has taken place-and it hadn't. So dad, wherever you are, it's me who's now financially independent and able to retire, which I bet has you spinning in your grave like a quarter chicken on a grocery store rotisserie :)
R69...........thats an easy answer to give. AH YEA.OF COURSE but live life a little bit longer R69 and you will realize there will be a lot of "should haves" of course i should have but i was in my early 30s making alot of money I call it "empire building" and at that age and at that time i really did not feel like giving any attention to a man who ignored me my entire life growing up. but i am not going to beat myself up over it now. I am now older and appreciate the person i have become without regret.
So does that mean you'll leave r66? Please?
He used to put my mother's Jean Nate's in his bathwater....he loved the fragrance!!!
R70 I'm here to be with other fat straight chicks like you.
Just read my name below and you'll know dad just keeps topping his last misfire.
and....R76 for the ruin...
Why are some of you assholes on this thread judging dataloungers? Fuck you. If we are all freaks, and fucked up, then what does that make you? Your lack of self awareness is fucking astonishing.
My dad would always curse loudly in traffic and hit his steering wheel. And there was always traffic because we were in NY. He'd yell at other motorists for mere traffic infractions. I'm surprised he didn't have a heart attack while driving. The phrase "road rage" wasn't a thing yet. We all hated getting in the car with him, because we knew we would have to hear him yelling for a certain amount of time.
I was not a big fan of my dad, but some of your comments make him seem totally normal.
We don't need to hear what straight women think, r78. We can find that anywhere. And we know that the majority of straight white women voted Trump, which is a vote against gays and lesbians.
Go express your opinions where they are expected and wanted. Your homophobia is not wanted here. You got that, fat ass?
Boohoo I come from a long line of obese tard freaks and daddy pretended to be asleep while sucking my cock, so don't tell me shit!
Lesbeau, we all know about your issues with your gay father.
Every year, the day after Thanksgiving, my dad would make it a point of getting my brothers and me (9,11, 12) stirred up about harvesting a fresh tree for the upcoming Christmas holiday season. It was a big production, from beginning to end. It would go up the day after Thanksgiving Day and was to come down New Year's Day. My dad would oversee and take credit for the entire production; yet my mother would be solely responsible for the clean up New Year's Day. My mother really didn't care, one way or the other; she knew it just meant more housework for her. He's the one who wanted it; so she left the annual harvesting / decorating tradition to him.
Well, one year they had a huge argument the day after Christmas; don't know what caused it or what it was about. The resulting "silent treatment" between them lasted two days. However, a more interesting thing happened afterward: New Year's Day came and went; the tree was still standing. It stayed there, fully decorated, yet no longer lit, for another week. The Joy of Christmas a definitely over.
Another week had gone by, yet the untouched, decorated tree remained. Soon my dad started making passive aggressive comments about the tree's being untouched and blatantly ignored for weeks. He's was getting pissed. My mother ignored him and behaved as if it were perfectly natural to have a large unlit, fully decorated Christmas tree in one's house weeks after the Christmas holidays were over . She conducted her housework as usual, even vacuuming very carefully in the tree's vicinity so as not to disturb it.
A week later my mother dropped my bothers and me at school earlier in morning; she was on her way to visit her elderly father for the day. On her way home later in the afternoon, she picked up my brothers and me from school to take us home with her. When we walked into our house, we were astonished to see the walls of the entryway were deeply scarred by something that appeared to have green claws. In addition to the green claw marks along the entryway walls, the floor of the entryway was littered with pine needles and tree twigs; there were shards of glass from broken tree ornaments and broken light bulbs. There was tinsel everywhere.
Without saying a word, my mother marched straight to the phone at the other end of entryway and called my dad at work. We followed her out of fear of what we'd just encountered. Upon reaching him at his office, she said in an alarmed voice, "Jim! Jim! You HAVE to come home right NOW! Yes, RIGHT NOW! Somebody's broken into the house and has stolen your Christmas tree!!"
Because I was standing closest to her, I clearly overheard him yell, "FUCK YOU!" and hang up.
One more for the road.
Another thing my father use to do was randomly burst into the bedroom I shared with one of my younger brother's who was the second oldest. I was the oldest of the four boys. He'd barge into our bedroom late at night when we had been asleep for several hours. He'd claim to have heard us rough housing and would yank us out of bed one at a time to inspect us.
He'd make us pull back the comforter on our beds to check for any wet spots. Then we were made to pull down the front of our pajama bottoms to check for went stains in our underwear and erections. Then he'd lecture us about the evils of masturbation and all of the debilitating afflictions it could cause. The major one he brought up constantly was homosexuality. Then just as suddenly as him bursting in had been he'd order us back to bed and warn us to knock it off. There was no rhyme or reason to his bed checks. It could be several months in between them before happening several nights in a row. I remember once asking my younger brother why dad would do that. He told me, 'Dad thinks your a queer. He thinks you're touching me and making me touch you.' My brother did go on to say that he did tell him that I wasn't touching him. I never tried or wanted to do anything with any of my siblings. Those random bedroom checks didn't stop until I eventually moved out at the age of 18 and went off to basic training.
When we were driving down south to the grandparents, and make a pit stop, we're pee in the same toilet and try to make the entire surface of the water be covered in piss bubbles. Oh, and when mom served canned sauerkraut, he would pour the "juice" from the drained cabbage into a glass and drink it with his dinner.
R84. wow you topped mine. What a freak. your dad was. mine was probably a closet case. he was military 35yrs.
R84 please tell me you're joking, because that's sick.
My father lost his business when I was eight, which left him unemployed throughout my life. After school, he would somehow sense when I was about to eat something, and would arrive home just in time to demand that I share whatever I had prepared, usually something like those cup-o-noodles or heating a can of soup. If I made enough to two, he wouldn't show up. If I waited for him to come home, he wouldn't arrive until dinner. I don't know how he knew, but it drove me nuts.
"This thread explains a lot about most of the people who post on DL."
Then you must be the humorless cunt who ff's everyone?
No r89, she's the filthy humorless cunt that every sane DLer FFs. ;)
He use to fondle himself watching television. Not all the time but every so often. He'd be there in his chair, watching television with his hand occasionally caressing his dick. I don't know if he realize what he was doing or not but whenever he started that up I'd leave the room. Even if there was something we watching as a family that I really wanted to see.
Mine did that too. So weird and cringey.
After reading this thread I think it's pretty clear how some of you turned out gay.
So according to you the reason DLers are not straight (meaning normal to you) is because of shitty parenting? So gay equals "broken" to you?
Fuck off homophobe.
Fuck off, r80, you rancid cunt. You have been on some kick in the last few days, accusing long term dataloungers of being fat straight women who voted for Trump.
I hope your dad beat the shit out of you while you were growing up, cunt.
My father used to spy on the neighbors with a hand held telescope from his bedroom window. He wasn't like a peeping Tom just spying on women he just liked to look at people.
He would gossip about the neighbors like an old lady. He would tell me what he saw in his telescope. He would be whispering even though we were the only people in the room. Psssssssttt I saw Dave Young who lives in that blue house smoking a joint behind his woodshed. I was a teenager and I would be thinking to myself so what Dad! Get a life!
He knew everybody's business. Our town started a mandatory recycling program. We had recycle buckets in our town and we had to put glass in one bucket, cans in another bucket and put them out on the curb once a week. My Dad was like.... Hey guess what! I think Adam is an alcoholic! I found SEVEN bottles of wine in Adam's recycling bin.
(Adam was a bachelor neighbor that lived alone) I said maybe he had a party or something. My father then said he never has anyone over! I know because I watch his house! My father was all excited and rubbing his hands together at his discovery. Adam is an alcoholic! Next week i'm gonna look in his recycle bucket and count how many bottles of booze!
Nothing would make my father as happy or excited as finding dirt on the neighbors.
My dad grew up on a farm, I never knew him to be afraid of any animal except the neighbor's tomcat. It was a big old long hair grey cat with a torn up lip that caused him to drool. It had amber colored eyes and truly looked demonic but it was sweet to everyone but my dad. The cat had a regular name but my dad called it Termite.
One day I hear my dad say in this nervous voice "Get back you son of a bitch". I look out the window and the cat is swiping at dad's ankles. He flew in the door and yelled " I hate that ugly bastard". My dad carried rocks that he would leave at the front door if he didn't have to throw them at the cat.
My dad had the flu and was stretched out on the couch and there was a knock on the door, after my mom answered it my dad yelled who was that? My mom came into the room and said "It was your cat, he just wants to know how you're feeling".
I grew up with a father. Used to always think I was missing something. Then I got to college and all my friends went on and on about what assholes their dads were/had been so I figured all along I had been the lucky one.
Oops, meant to say I grew up without a father. My mom got knocked-up and he abandonded her.
I was pretty much raised by my grandparents for the first 12 years of my life. My grandpa was awesome. He liked to drink...Jim Beam, usually every Friday night. He would get so wasted that he'd end up just sleeping at the kitchen table, rolling the table cloth as his folded arms and body slowly slipped forward.
The next day, I'd be up early watching Saturday morning cartoons. He'd jump up, say "well looks like it is time for bed," and then sleep the rest of his hangover off til mid afternoon.
He was never mean or violent...just drank til he passed out at the table. My grandma never cared. Hell, she'd polish off a good portion of a six pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon before retiring to bed. I don't think it really bothered her in the least. She wasn't my real grandmother, my real grandmother had died a few years before I was born. This was his live-in girlfriend and they were together for over 20 years til he died. Her first husband was evil and used to beat on her. My grandfather treated her like gold. Yeah, like I said...I was the lucky one.
Every Christmas, my father would throw the Christmas tree out the door because he couldn't get it to fit in the platform. My sister and I would cry every time he did it. He would bring it back eventually and fix it, but he had no patience or self control.
When he got bombed, he would take a roll of paper towels and write the Declaration of Independence on it, thus creating a "scroll". Nice man, but odd. He's probably bipolar.
"When he got bombed, he would take a roll of paper towels and write the Declaration of Independence on it, thus creating a "scroll".
That gave me the giggles.
[R95] it was your cat....... dying here!!!! THANKS!!
I can't even tell you what I found in his bedside drawer after he kicked the bucket.......
What explains a fat straight chick like you hanging out at a gay site, [R54]?
She thinks we'll wanna be her friends.
Pretend to leave for work naked for mine and my brother's amusement. We thought it was so funny. That ended when I was about five or six.
And my dad naked, he had a hot body. In post WWII NYC, he modeled for the same sculptor who did that gold Prometheus Statue that's outdoors at Rockefeller Center by the ice rink. My chronic exaggerator brother like to tell people that our dad WAS the model for the Rock Center sculpture.
my next door neighbor's dad--he was pretty hot in a pretty boy way with a great body, muscles, great hairy armpits, chest and legs. his wife was a dykey bitch who had weird rules. one was that he had to showwer in the cellar. their daughter and I played together a lot (she was a tomboy who did grow up to be a dyke,) Her dad wsd pretty nice. I used to enjoy being over there after lunch b/c that was the time he would go down to the cellar and shower before he would go to work the afternoon shift. We'd be playing in the cellar and he would come downstairs, totally naked, with a towel around his shoulders. He would stand there talking to us like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to be nude in front of us. (And really, it was normal. Nothing weird going on.) I loved seeing his long thick cock dangle and bounce as he walked, and his balls were huge and low hanging, not much hair on them but he had a thick bush. Sometimes I would keep him talking just so I could look at him, and sometimes I would go in the next room when he was showering to watch. It was an open shower in the laundry side of the basement, which was unfinished. We used to play on the other side which was a rec room. When he was done showering, he'd come out and walk up the stairs, giving me a view of his luscious creamy ass with a mohawk stripe of hair in his asscrack. He also went shirtless outside a lot doing yard work or sitting in their back yard. Of course I made a lot of excuses to be next door. How his mannish dykey wife ever got a hot guy like him was beyond me. Maybe he was gay and she was a beard. Several years later they had a son who also grew up to be gay.
R64, if your parents had loved you, they'd've taken care of that problem shortly after you were born.
Growing up in Orlando Fl in the 1960s-1970s my dad was in the Air Force and stationed at McCoy AFB, he was part of the B52 bomber crew that would be activated with nuclear devices to drop in a war situation. From the age of 9 he drilled into my brothers what to do if there was an attack or an alert warning . He had a inground pool put in the back yard and dirt from that excavation was used to build a pretty elaborate above ground fallout shelter.
There was an alarm plugged into an outlet of our house , I think it was a called a NEAR repeater I think. it would go off to alert my dad to report to duty and we to stop what we were doing and go to the fallout shelter which was damp and hot . Of course these were all drills on the base, he made us learn to count the number of seconds between the flash and concussion to determine how big the bomb was etc. I remember crying because I had to leave my dog and guinea pigs in the house and could not take them to the shelter. It scared the hell out of me everytime .
Ummm, r94, your Father is the definition of Peeping Tom. MARY!
My Mom used to cut my Dad's hair in the middle of the kitchen where he would sit in a chair totally naked. I admit it I was very sexually turned on by it as he had a hot body and a huge uncut cock (european import). He also used to shower and walk down the hallway naked to his room... I used to go into his room and talk to him just to see his body-- I know, judge me, but it did really turn me on as he was very good looking.
The heart wants what it wants, r108.
Happy Father's Day! My dad was a detached, passive alcoholic, but he was a saint compared to some of the stories here!
My father used to cut the grass with a brown paper grocery bag folded down on his head. He could have worn a baseball cap like a normal person, but was not normal.
He would wear Bermuda shorts in the summer rolled up slightly at the bottom with his boxer shorts hanging out below. He would wear a yellowed t-shirt with holes in the armpits. He always carried an ironed (by my mother) handkerchief in his back pocket which he used to blow his nose.
He liked to wipe his greasy from eating fried chicken fingers on the shirt of whichever child was sitting next to him at the dinner table.
He had a Pee Wee Herman-esque bike with sissy handlebars and a banana seat that he would sport around the neighborhood on.
What the fuck was wrong with men in the '60's and '70's?
My father used to cut the grass with a brown paper grocery bag folded down on his head.
I grew up unaware of sashimi and steak tartar. When my father came home from work, he would sneak bites of raw hamburger, raw steak, and raw fish my mother was preparing. I was always worried and grossed out. He never did it with chicken or pork so obviously he knew what raw foods were possible.
That was about it. He wasn't a weird guy. Sometimes he'd have his ass crack showing but that was a lot of dads, at that time. Bill Murray had a skit about this.
A lot of you had sad lives and unfortunate dads.
Dad liked to swan about in a silk kimono and perform fan dances in the rec room. He said he was a geisha in a previous life.
Did people use "swan" as a verb that long ago, R114?
He would buy groceries for other people even when there wasn't enough money for us to eat. In 1977 my mother found out he ran up a $300 bill at the local Italian grocery buying food for his sister even though she and her husband both worked. Dad couldn't afford to pay off the bill so my sister had to sell her car to pay it off. He did it to look like a big shot even though his own kids went to bed hungry.
When family was coming to visit he'd buy special treats and hide them until the visitors came and then forbid us from touching any of it.
One Saturday my mother wanted to go the A&P to buy a watermelon because they were on sale and my father said no. He then went himself and bought 10 of them and drove to the houses of the people he worked with to give them the melons.
My father was not strange, I now realize. The worst thing he ever did was bring home Shop Rite Cola instead of Coca Cola to save twenty cents. I had such a good childhood is all I can say now.
One Saturday my mother wanted to go the A&P to buy a watermelon because they were on sale and my father said no. He then went himself and bought 10 of them and drove to the houses of the people he worked with to give them the melons.
I hate your dad, R116, being all about appearance while the family suffered. I grew up in that house.
He had a Pee Wee Herman-esque bike with sissy handlebars and a banana seat that he would sport around the neighborhood on.
Please tell me you have pics R111!
I love your dad R94!
R118/OP I'm sorry to hear we had the same kind of father. I realized in my 20s that my father hated to see us happy. It's like when we were happy he felt he had failed.
Aside from the verbal, mental and physical abuse the one thing that really stands out in my mind was when my grandmother gave my mother a Singer sewing machine for Christmas in 1979. Mom was so happy because she loved to sew and would be able to make her own clothes, (she owned two dresses--one nice for special occasions and one for everyday.)
On boxing day my mother hears loud banging and went to look and dad had taken the sewing machine to the garage and smashed it with a sledge hammer. My mother is standing there crying and dad says, "Merry Christmas" and goes back into the house.
The machine made mom happy and dad couldn't abide by that.
I wish I could tell you I was joking but that was my father. I suspect he was probably dealing with his own issues regarding his sexuality. I was the on punished for it.
Your dad sounds amazing. I would have loved to hang out with him
R94's dad should be made an honourary Datalounger.
R121 , I think my dad and yours were seperated at birth. In 1973 my parents finally decided to move from our tiny,1940s house to a 4/2 brick ranch house. It was in a formerly rural area,so it had a huge yard with mature trees and plantings. My dad always bitched about having to trim the bushes and tend to the yard etc,though he rarely was the one that did it. About a year after we moved in,my mom took my brothers and I downstate to see relatives and we were gone for a week. As we rolled up to the house,we saw a blasted,denuded yard and tree stumps where huge old pines and oak trees used to be. Gone were the rose bushes my mother loved,the huge oak tree that shaded the front of the house,everything. My mother burst into tears and we were totally freaked out,though not surprised as dad was a gold plated alcoholic ex marine BASTARD.
Same place, we once had a chicken coop and some pigs and rabbits etc. My dad decided,once again while were gone,to kill all the animals and put them in the freezer. As we came home he was just getting ready to kill my younger brothers pet chicken,and we raced over to him begging and pleading with him not to do it. He looked us dead in the eye and cut that poor chickens head off,though she had been our pet for years and was beyond laying or even being edible. He hated us to be happy,he hated beauty,I really think he hated us period.
My father was a cross between Bernie Mac and Fred Sanford. No one was spared from his comments. I sometimes had anxiety whenever friends or family members would visit. He would not allow any disrespect in his house. As a child, on Sundays, family members would sometimes stop by in their Sunday best sometimes with their bible in hand. My father had issues with the church and did not want my brother nor me to get influenced by some of the shenanigans that affected him as a child from a church. So on one Sunday, a few holier than thou cousins told my father that he should make a good example and take us to church on Sundays. He turned turned 2 shades red and told them "I'm a grown ass man so don't tell me what to do. This is my house God Damn it, if you don't like it get the F__k out". The whole house shook as our guests quickly departed. He was known for his "This is my house" comment so when he died 3 years ago, I added it to his obituary. Now mind you, my father could be a real pain in the ass. I sometimes cried at night wishing that I was never born or that I had a different father. His death put me through an emotional roller coaster. His funeral was a laugh fest as everyone revealed their own individual "This is my house" moment. After his funeral, I forgave him for so many embarrassing and painful moments. As a sensitive child, I wished that I had gain the emotional maturity earlier in life to appreciate him faults and all. For whatever it's worth, I turned out to be strong and proud gay man who will not allow any type of disrespect in my home nor life. "Happy Father's Day".
I really think he hated us period
R125 I think you've nailed it. My father resented having a wife and kids even though he decided to get married. According to him we were the cause of all his problems. I wouldn't have wished my father on anyone and it saddens me that others had fathers just like ours.
Every Sunday my dad would get up around 6am, and start making breakfast for me and my brother in nothing but his boxer shorts. We would be woken up by him yelling "SON OF A BITCH....AAHHH MOTHER FUCK THAT BURNS" due to the bacon, and sausage grease splattering up and landing on his gut. You would think after just one time of this happening he would have at least put on a shirt, nope.
He would also put on 60's British Invasion music and sing to us, and the dogs, while playing the broom like a guitar. He did this well into my 20's and in front of friends. We would all get into the act with him, and sing and dance around. My mother left him when I was 2. He did the best he could with us.
Slice a raw potato and eat the slices, salted.
A little brown dog wandered up to our house one summer day. I was often alone as a child, so I welcomed the little fellow and named him Dan.
I had Dan for about 2 weeks, when I went downstairs one morning and couldn't find him anywhere. My father had shot him. And, as per usual, his cowardly, bullying self left it to my mother to tell me.
I cried and cried and demanded he be arrested. Then when my mother told him my reaction, he laughed. Fucker.
my favorite dads here are the one who colored in ladies' lipstick on pictures and the one who liked to wipe his greasy hands on his kids' clothes. and of course R94's.
I love threads like this, and want to say thanks to everyone who has contributed.
Like most kids, I thought my parents were the worst until I began to hear about the oddities other families endured; and while none of these stories (albeit a few come close) detail criminal abuse, it is somehow comforting knowing that nearly everyone thought their parents were weird. It always seemed that other people had normal, happy families/childhoods. The older I get, the more it becomes apparent: it was a facade.
As I wrote at R88, and have detailed in other threads on DL, my father had some hangups regarding money. I am the guy who thought it was the father's job to complain about spending money on groceries until I happened to go shopping with my friend's family and instead of bitching about it all the way home and engaging in bizarre inspection and storage rituals, sang with the radio after spending what was, to me, a great deal on food. I also wrote about how we had to finish everything on our plates and drink our milk, which I hated and made me vomit, ending that demand.
His bizarre attitude imprinted me for life, and I'm fortunate that I have a husband who endures my need to save leftovers regardless of whether or not they will ever be eaten; who acknowledges that I must have food in the house at all times, and not just a small amount; we have food storage and a rotation program to keep canned goods, and spend no small amount of money on this, all because my father was so damned freaky about eating/food and money. I understand that it came from his childhood during the Depression and going to bed hungry because his father — my grandfather who died just before I was born — could not provide for his family (like many during that time). But he took it to extremes, and he made our family suffer (although, I fully admit, R116/R121's has me beat, hands down). I grew up thinking that the meal in front of me, no matter whether it was grand or meager, was my last, and no amount of rational thinking can break this cycle.
I am convinced most people could benefit from counseling. I wish that counseling didn't come with stigma, particularly for my father's generation. I know that my life would have been better if my father had worked through his issues. He wasn't a bad man; he just carried emotional baggage and lacked the self-realization to understand that he imparted it to his children.
The benefit of this was that my siblings and I are very self motivated and have made tremendous successes of our lives. My husband jokes that we have to make a lot of money to support my need to buy and store food, mostly, but it extends to other strange predilections, such as always having to own several pairs of underwear in unopened boxes, and when I want a new pair of tennis shoes, there is always one in the closet — but I must go buy another to replace it as soon as I wear it for the first time. It is just, now, a harmless habit.
But I still catch myself falling into this cycle. Hubby points out that it is weird that I take pride in the fact that our dog is not food-driven. We adopted her as a puppy, and I strived to never make her think that food was an issue. She knows that when she's hungry, there will always be food to eat. I have trained her to respond to toys like other dogs respond to food; the result is that we have hundreds of dog toys that we regularly cull and donate to the shelter, along with bags and bags of food and treats that I feel compelled to buy, and so the cycle continues.
For those of you that have shared your stories. Are your father's still alive? If so, are you still in contact with them? What about your mother's, did they ever step in?
Mine is still alive. He lives in a nice retirement community. Which me and my three younger brothers are suppose to split the cost equally four ways. In the last several years, it's come down to me paying half the costs with the three other siblings splitting the other half between them three ways. My father hasn't mellowed with age. It was hard enough getting him to agree to move into the retire community after my mother passed away several years ago. Sometimes I feel she willed herself to get sick and then when it happened she didn't fight.
Mine died ten years ago,and though he hated me because I was gay,he never changed his will and left me a nice chunk of change. I truly believe it was a mistake on his part,we had a very contentious relationship that settled into an armed truce as we got older. He died at home under hospice care,and as he took his last breath and we realized he was truly gone, a HUGE weight lifted off my shoulders .Literally. I had long thought Id come to terms with my childhood,but his death showed me how much shit was still left from it all. I dont miss him,but I cant say Im glad hes dead.
My father was obsessed with age and always wanted to seem young to everyone. I went to a private school that was about a half an hour from home and my schoolmates also came from all over the map, so the parents had to do a lot of ferrying. We were always together in some parent's car, being chauffeured about.
Well, anyway, whenever it was my father's turn, he would wait for a quiet moment and then start talking about some famous attractive woman he fancied, and he'd really get into sex talk. He was so oblivious of other people that he had no idea what effect he was having; he thought we teen boys would be thrilled to hear it.
Like: "You boys know that singer they call Blondie? Big blond thing, so pretty and nice. With one of those rock groups? She's really quite a dish. Yes, quite the dish. I'd like to get one of those spoons from the ice-cream shop...you know the kind, with the long handles? And this Blondie girl would be buck naked for me, yes, and I'd just start in to eat that pretty little thing with the spoon..."
And on and on the reverie would go, while my friends and I--about thirteen or fourteen then--would be dying to open the car doors and jump out.
Actually, when I was grown up, he turned out to be totally insane, determined to keep pushing me around and using me (verbally) as a punching bag. I did finally throw him out and never spoke to him again.
But, looking back, these insane sex raps he'd get into seem awfully funny.
R95 had me laughing out loud.
Your dad was hilarious, and your mom was, too!
He died at home under hospice care,and as he took his last breath and we realized he was truly gone, a HUGE weight lifted off my shoulders .Literally. I had long thought Id come to terms with my childhood,but his death showed me how much shit was still left from it all.
Mine died 13 years ago after suffering brain cancer for years. I hadn't seen him in the ten years before he died and that was fine. No one called me the night he was dying so I wasn't there but my aunt called after the fact. My first thought was "he can't cheat on my mom anymore." I've never cried once over his passing and I don't miss him at all.
Dying laughing and wanting to weep, reading these. My heart goes out to you who had awful fathers.
My dad was "weird" because he was an immigrant to the US. He ate some weird stuff and had an accent that embarrassed me.
He was a Vietnam vet (that is how he earned citizenship) and slept on the sofa on the ground floor of every house he lived in. My sister asked him why, and he said that he had a lingering fear of ambush and needed to have as many exits available as possible.
All in all, he was a very sweet man who was very fucked up. He did far less damage than my mother did.
But I'm a parent now and forgive them everything.
Like a few others in this thread, my father had a weird thing about cats. He was indifferent to pets in general, and let me have a dog, but he absolutely hated cats because "they stole babies breath."
Whenever we visited a house with a cat, he would warn me to stay away from it because they were evil and would try to smother me.
Until I was a teenager, I was terrified of cats and couldn't understand why anyone would have one. The fact that most of them hide and stare whenever visitors are around, made me avoid any contact with them.
My dad used to take the Sears catalog into the bathroom and talk loudly to himself about the products in the catalog. When he was home from work on weekends my mother would ask him if he was hungry at lunchtime and he would ask "What time is it?" if it wasn't his usual lunchtime he would say he wasn't hungry but if it was he was hungry. He did a lot of weird things like that. I think he was on the spectrum and probably had a touch of OCD.
My Dad was super funny and kept me and my Mom and family and friends in stitches with his infectious laugh.
I was the youngest and also lived at home longest, I guess my Dad sensed a weakness in me because he would criticize me and treat me differently than my older brothers. He died a few years ago and is viewed as a saint by my entire family, one time I tried to say to my brother "dad did some weird things but now that he is dead everybody talks about him like he was a saint" and my brother just acted like he didn't hear me.
When he ate an apple, he would eat the whole thing - the core, stem, seeds everything. He also never peeled an orange, he would just bite into it. It was beyond weird, but he said he did it because his dad slapped him around for leaving an apple core laying around once.
R132 sounds exhausting to live with. Absolutely exhausting.
When my brother was 15 my dad casually suggested that he take a bottle of whiskey to a teen party. My mother got very angry. My father was an alcoholic and tried for years to get my brother to drink. To his credit, my brother ignored him....
Living well is the best revenge R134. Please don't say you gave the money away.
My dad would eat a raw onion as if it were an apple.
Sorry, that's all I've got...THANK GOD!
In the middle of summer he'd drive with the windows rolled up, the air conditioning turned off and smoke like a chimney. In the winter the heat would be off, the windows rolled down and still smoking like a chimney. I'm certain he was tying to kill us.
Well thanks, R144! I'm sure you're a joy to be around.
My dad was in navy, 35 years. My mom and us kids would sit around the dinning room and plan how we were going to live once my dad died. he was never sick. my mom just figured he was going to die first and we were going to live like millionaires. well she died 15yrs before him.and he really had never paid any attention to us kids. so i remember he would order all this landscaping from magazines. as kids we were so exited about all the big bushes that were going to be planted. but only sticks arrived in the mail and our dog went around and turn his head sideways and pull the sticks out. so we always had a pretty dismal back yard
Nothing strange. I miss him.
My dad wasn't strange, just really childish, which isn't surprising since he had me at 19. He is pretty consistently competitive with me and my siblings still. And it's strange, I don't think he cares much for me (the feelings mutual) but I randomly visited his work a few weeks ago since I was in town, and everyone at work knew every single detail of my life (vacations, hobbies, new job), so he must be like oddly bragging about his kids to his coworkers.
he must be like oddly bragging about his kids to his coworkers.
Some parents are like that. After mine died people who knew them came up and told me how proud they were of me, how they always talked about me and said great things about me. Not once when they were alive did they ever say anything complimentary or encouraging. Accomplishments were ignored and mistakes were punished and rubbed in our faces for weeks, if not years after the fact.
Yes so true! But now that I think about it, it's just probably more competitive bragging, trying to one-up his coworkers when he hears about their children's exploits, knowing him.
At my first job out of high school a lot of fathers were like R154 describes, trying to one up each other vicariously through their sons. One guy carried a pic of this 20 year old son that was taken with his GF on a nude beach. The girl looked like a Playboy model and the son had a dick that must have been 7 inches soft. The guy would say, "Oh, your son got a promotion? Look what my son got" and take out that picture. Even then I thought that was creepy, if not strange.
My Dad put salt and pepper on his cantaloupe. He didn't do strange shit, but he was an unaffectionate, alcoholic vet of both WWII and Korea.
R153, I occasionally would hear from family friends that my dad was proud of something I did. He'd tell everyone else but never tell me. It helped me understand though that I was doing things to be proud of not because it'd make him proud but because I wanted to be proud of myself.
Once a family friend said "you know your dad loves you." And my response was that no, I don't know because he's never once said it. I never heard him say that, not even once.
He was obsessed with fixing EVERYTHING. He wouldn't be caught dead sending something in for repair.
Several times he tried to pass down his knowledge (he died when I was 19), but alas, Dad, you had a gayling!
153. i had the same situation with my dad. i was ignored by my dad most of my life. i had large success and heard nothing from him. but my mom told me he was proud but also jealous. i have heard that about middle aged men being jealous of young men. I made up my mind that i would never be one of them. I live in los angeles and i was pretty hot when in my 20s. alot of old gay men used to take me to dinner, a few i fooled around when but it was strange when i had success and mid late 30s, they sneered at me and were no longer friendly . i always tried to warm up and look back and they wanted nothing to do with me. i found that so odd. i never would want to be a bitter old queen . so unattractive
R141 I think we had similar dads. Hilarious but had a gambling problem. He also liked to give financial advice without being prompted, often to people far better off than us. I found it mortifying. Any money we had was because of our mother, if anything had happened to her we would have been flat broke, but there was dad telling people the best way to invest like he had some clue.
Dad was into leather. Big time.
R160 Yep my Mom somehow managed the money and the bills and the loanshark debts. Always loud heated screaming matches in the house whenever he lost big at OTB or a card game.
My dad is anal about the lawn and always cuts it in a certain pattern. He'd spend hours looking after it and he's still obsessed with it, lol.
r163 i really like your back yard. Can we have a play date?
Did anyone else used to Rim their dad? our family treated it as normal but i felt weird about it......... thoughts?
R165 Did you dad shave his hole or was he natural?
My dad used to fart on my grandma's head. He would scream Mama! Cradle cap!
About 90% of this thread could benefit from extended therapy.
My childhood home was a single-level, manufactured "Ranch" home, ala "The New Space Age Family Home," 1970. Having the resources to afford a "new home" was a significant accomplishment for my dad; he was a blue collar worker supporting a family of five. Dad was a shipyard worker; mom was my little brothers' Cub Scout Den Mother.
Our house was a three-bedroom, one bath home. My brothers and I shared one bedroom (bunk beds and a single); my older sister had her own bedroom; and dad and mom, the largest bedroom. The bathroom was centrally located between the three bedrooms, right off the *living and *dining "rooms." (*These were actually the same room, but separated by a recliner and a sofa.)
My dad usually returned from the shipyards for the day around 4:00p; every Thursday at the same time my mom held Scout meetings in our dining room; and I'd be watching after-school television in the living room. When my dad came home from work, he'd drop his stuff in the kitchen, make his way around the corner, and go directly to the bathroom. He'd be in there for what seemed like forever. When he finally came out of there, and leaving the door open, oh-my-god - it smelled like a dead horse had been rotting in there for weeks. Then he'd yell to my mom to ask what we were having for dinner. (I'm about to vomit just recalling this memory.)
Mom soon moved the Scout meetings to the garage; and I stayed in my bedroom to do homework, wishing the TV was in there with me.
Wow R169, what a letdown.... hot blue collar, naked.... this could have ended so much better! MARY!
Popped or cracked our toes no matter how much we squirmed and cried. He loved doing it.
I'm sorry 151
I'm sorry r151
That's not my backyard, R164, but that's how my my parents yard looks after my dad cuts the grass. The good thing was that I could never get nice lines like that so my dad wouldn't "let" me mow the yard, lol. He's still nuts about the yard, it's funny.
Will someone please tell R132 that he has a shopping addiction? If his partner dies he'll be a full-blown hoarder in about 5 seconds.
Thank you R173. Lots of happy memories though.
R8, where did you grow up?
The rural south,R177 .
R132, you sound as crazy as your father. Just stop. You will survive.
My dad used to beg me to fistfuck him. He said mom just wouldn't go there with him, and he needed it.
He'd get food cravings and force all of us to eat whatever it was he decided was the best food at that moment. Like when he started putting vinegar--not malt vinegar but plain white vinegar--on everything. Or when he decided Tobasco sauce was good on everything and sure enough we had to eat food covered in Tobasco.
My dad never missed Friday Night Boxing / Saturday Nights At The Fights. While watching the matches, he'd drink Animal Beer (Schlitz) and polish off a large jar of Giardiniera mix. Then he'd drink the juice straight out of the jar!
(Now I'm going to go throw up.)
R182 - Are you sure we didn't have the same dad? lol. My dad usually drank Schaefer but ate those damn pickled cauliflower at the same time. I think he realized I was gay when I wouldn't watch boxing with him.
r180, that's disturbing, how old ere you at the time? did you tell an adult? did or have you had any therapy?
And I thought my father was weird...
he was a heavy drinker and would always blow me when he'd come home drunk
Smoked in the bathroom while taking his morning dump. Hated having to go in after him.
Whenever my mom cooked something he didn't like, he would take the plate and fling it out the back door. I have to admit, she was a terrible cook.
R187, i used to love it because the sulfur from the match covered any smell!! My mom, however.... oh my!
R186. LIAR. you blew him, and the rest of the family knew it
R180. not believable. . who taught you how to cusp your little fist for entry.......?
My dad has been at least buzzed if not outright sloshed since 1970, does that count as strange?
No, R193. Unfortunately, it's become normal.
With my dad it was Falstaff and wrestling but he also ate Giardiniera! That's weird!
Walk around in a skimpy towel after his shower. Like a loin cloth. I swear he thought he was Jesus?? He is a fundamentalist Christian.
You had a father?
R197 a HOLY father to you my son!
Make us listen to Elvis night and day. Although, Sunday was 'religious' music only day.
Used to regularly inspect our ears for blackheads and used a blackhead remover to take care of any he found.
R193 the strangest part is that he's been varying degrees of drunk every day since 1970 but hasn't died of some alcohol related illness. He must have a liver made of gold.
I don't think there was a night in my life when my father wasn't drunk, or at least passed out from drinking.
R202 on one of your previous posts on this thread you said the weirdest thing your dad did was buy a cheaper brand of cola. On another one he was a soldier or something in Kiev? Now he's a raging alcoholic? How many dads did you have exactly?
Cheap cola was me, R203. But I have no idea what "soldier in Kiev" could mean. Not a Russian bone in any of our bodies. I think I'll go trolldar myself.
BTW, what is inconsistent about a drunk buying cheap cola for his kids?
Just figured it out, R203, I was responding to someone I took for Russian here in the present at DataLounge.
Oh I see r205. I still think it's unusual that you think the weirdest thing your dad was buy cheap cola (not weird) when the weird part of your childhood was he was a pass out drunk. Every night. That's hardly a standard behaviour, even the ones who don't mind a couple of drinks at night. On the plus side he must have saved a fortune if he drank Scotch and Cola.
I didn't realize my father was an alcoholic, R206, until I was grown up. I thought his behavior was normal. Oh, and the cola was for me.
My dad is still kicking but at 70 he looks like he's about 90 due to the constant drinking.
Faint every 5 min
Back in the 50s and 60s . He imposed television censorship: 1. We weren't allowed to watch Ingrid Bergman movies, because she had a child out of wedlock. 2. Couldn't watch any Brit movies because we are Irish, and 'those damn limeys oppressed the Irish.'
He always loved watching the Miss America Pageant and he cried after she was crowned and walked down the runway. He loved watching WHAT'S MY LINE to see what Kitty Carlisle and Dorothy Kilgallen were wearing. (closet case?)
That's actually very funny r210. He's at least bi, surely??
Sleep with men.
R210's father = a one man Legion of Decency.
My dad would get rid of our pets without consulting us. Rabbits, cats, dogs. When HE got tired of them, he'd get rid of them. Our cat had given birth to her first litter of kittens. We were so excited, my brother and I. One day after returning from visiting relatives, he told us he sold the entire litter! My brother and I were devastated. Mom was pissed, but she didn't say much. No apologies, no explanation, nothing other than a "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about!". He did that with her second litter, this time calling Animal Control and this time momma kitty went too! He got us a pet rabbit that we loved, only to sell it to someone for food. His father was a cruel and sadistic bully, and a lot of it rubbed off on him.
Mine vanished when I was 10...that was kind of weird.
Point out woman that he'd fucked to me. No he was not a cheater as mother died when I was very young. He was a horndog! I don't think there was a woman in town that he didn't do.
R187 My dad smoked in the bathroom too when he was taking a dump. There was an ashtray on the radiator next to the TP that usually had a few cigarette butts in it.
my dad smoked in bathroom but it was to hide the awful smell of my mothers girdle which she would always hang on the towel rack when she was not wearing it. us kids used to refer to the smell as "dirty girdle smell"...... theres nothing like it. and my mom was hot. like a blonde ,french twist kim novak.(not kim novak now with face life. before when she was hot)
R209. thats weird. my dad would pass out also. but he had narcolpsy ? he took ritlian ? you would be talking to him and he would just pass out. he spent most of the time watching the news or sports. but once he took the ritalin ? he became a different person, started buying me sports equipment and playing ball with me and taking me to events. but he stopped the ritalin cause it made him jittery and everything returned to like it was before
Cheated on my dad
When my father had a cold he would put Vicks vaporub on a spoon, sprinkle salt on it and eat it.
My friend's Italian father used to drink onion juice.
My father came over from China in 1949 and was a Tiger Dad before that POS Amy Chua invented the term. HE was not a physician, but he wanted all three of to become doctors, not for our sakes, but so we could help him win a Nobel Prize in chemistry. (Yes, he was and is that much of an egomaniac). He used to drill us endlessly at dinner about becoming a doctor. My baby sister's the only one who did what he wanted and she took out restraining orders against him when she grew up. He is 94 now and a bitter, lonely man. He 's from that generation that would rather be alive than have any quality of life. I have no plans of seeing him alive unless my blind, incontinent, immobile, dementia-ridden mother goes first.
Wow R223- how old are you now? Do you live near your parents (I assume they are living together?
Positively harmless compared to others -
He would take jars of mustard, pickles etc out of the larder, carefully unscrew the jars and line them up, then add said condiments to his dinner until it was to his satisfaction, then take all the condiments, screw the lid on tightly and then put them away again...
I don't think he ever had a HOT dinner...
Miss him so much.
My father, for as long as I can remember, has removed food stuck in his teeth by using his tongue (I assume) and making a sucking motion; it makes a "phfssst" noise. The cacophony starts immediately after he finishes eating, right at the table. It has always made me insane and I've always been so embarrassed about it.
My father wrote a novel about a young sailor's experiences abroad during WWII. It was obviously autobiographical; almost every detail was familiar from his war stories. The one supposed departure from fact was an affair he had with a local woman and their infant son, born a few months before he was shipped home.
He and my mother remained married after it was published, but she was never the same. She took to drinking heavily, and died of cirrhosis at 50. My father flatly refused to ever discuss this book with me. I sometimes wonder if I have an unacknowledged half brother? My father died at 78; now I'll never know.
My dad's parents were absolute monsters and that rubbed off on him in the most insane ways. His mother, my Irish gram, was obsessed with bathroom behavior and while my father was growing up, he was forced to keep detailed journals of his bathroom habits: date, time, what he did, how big it was (if it was a dump), how he wiped (front to back or back to front) and its consistency. Even as an adult and long after that old witch died, he would keep these journals in the bathroom. He always used the same kind - like the notebooks that we used in primary school, I forget what they were called, but they weren't spiral and you couldn't rip the pages out of them. Maybe college-bound? A few times he tried to get me, my mother and brother to do it too and said it was important but my mother wouldn't stand for it. (She always covered for him saying he was doing this because his doctor wanted him to). Sometimes he would fish out his big "whoppers" with a little net and put them in jars or tupperware containers in the garage always saying he was taking them to the doctor but he never did. Sometimes in the middle of dinner he'd just stand up and announce, "nature's chocolate" and he'd get up and go to the bathroom.
I am up to R57 and I laughed hysterically at his post about his Jew-hating, shoe-throwing father.
Does anyone else here but me NOT remember his or her Dad (or in my case, deceased father) doing strange shit? In retrospect I realize how frigging hard my Dad worked in New York when the subways were not air-conditioned.
OK, back to the rest of the thread.
Cleaned his ears with matches. Why? Beats me - we always had Qtips in the house.
My dad always opened mail using a knife, from the end of the envelope and not the side. He was a paranoid man who would leave the bathroom door wide open while taking a dump so as to hear anything we might be saying about him. He didn't care who saw him and did this with the downstairs bathroom which faced into the dining room. C.R.A.Z.Y.
R228, if you know where your father served, you possibly could find out.
r95, I love your mom. Ha!
Does anyone else here but me NOT remember his or her Dad (or in my case, deceased father) doing strange shit?
My father seems like Mr. Normal compared to most of these dads.
My dad would get rid of our pets without consulting us. Rabbits, cats, dogs. When HE got tired of them, he'd get rid of them. Our cat had given birth to her first litter of kittens. We were so excited, my brother and I. One day after returning from visiting relatives, he told us he sold the entire litter! My brother and I were devastated. Mom was pissed, but she didn't say much. No apologies, no explanation, nothing other than a "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about!"
That's awful, you must have been heartbroken :(
Btw, you know he killed them and didn't actually sell them, right? I hope he at least gave them an easy death, instead of slow torture.
Oh, speaking of slow torture of helpless animals, I just remembered something my alcoholic piece of shit father did.
My uncle [Dad's brother] owned a motel just on the edge of the city, so it was surrounded by empty lots overgrown with weeds and wild grass.
One time when I was about 5 and we were visiting my uncle, I was exploring the grassy areas outside and discovered a nest of baby mice. I thought they were so cute and interesting, and rushed back to the house [attached to the motel] to tell my father and uncle all about it.
My father asked me to show him the nest, so I led him out into the field and pointed it out. He knelt down beside it, grabbed some dry wild grass and laid it over the baby mice, then lit it on fire and burned them to death. Right in front of little 5-y.o. animal-loving me.
R238, that's awful! I can relate a bit.... When I was about 8 years old, my mean grandfather and I were driving somewhere. A pigeon was in the street eating something. He saw the bird, laughed, and then ran it over. I was shocked. I can still hear the thump as we ran it over. (His car also reeked of old cigars. I hated being in his car.)
Rob, cheat and steal
Fuck me in the ass and make me suck him off,but he wouldnt kiss or hold me because that was "too gay".
I just read this entire thread and now I'm sobbing. Not only because I feel bad for some of you, but realizing that even though my dad wasn't the best and had his faults, looking back I can tell he tried the best he could.
Even though calling him leaves me frustrated and annoyed, I think I'll give him a call now.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, R229 wins.
My sympathy to the posters who grew up with abusive fathers. Heart-wrenching.
I'm now even more grateful for my dad, who isn't even all that weird, if some of these examples are anything to go by. His way of saving every screw or piece of string, riding his 3 wheeler up and down their road collecting cans, putting a can of stew directly on the burner to cook on the pilot light and those days of making a song out of everything we said now look like endearing quirks.
We did do the duck and cover drills, though, and he used to conduct regular family fire drills, which were intensely embarrassing, especially when we were living in town rather than in base housing where our neighbors might be on the same wavelength as Dad, or at least have an inkling what was going on when we were lined up on the sidewalk in our PJs and flashlights, sounding off to his roll call.
My father had shitty taste in decorating.
He had, and still has, a hangup with painting walls in a high saturation. In his mind…that shuts down a room.
My dad used to tape earthworms to his forehead.
R13, your father was gay. I've seen many gay guys do that constantly. No straight man would do such a thing.
Growing up, as long as I can remember, my grandfather always wore a "jumpsuit." It had short sleeves, zipped in the front, and had a sewn-in "belt." His jumpsuits were gray, blue, beige, mauve, olive green; but it was always the same jumpsuit. He also carried a smoking pipe, though he'd stopped smoking years before.
One day I returned home for the holidays, during which time my grandfather had died. My dad was in his 60's, retired. While I was home, my dad started wearing the same jumpsuit, which really freaked me out. It was like "Invasion of the Body Snatchers."
He used to obsess with shit and farts.
My dad always played with syllables of words and names (i.e. Thomas Anderson would become Ander Thomason) I do this myself, in my head all of the time now) He'd cry at movies or TV shows and try to hide it with lighthearted laughter. I asked him about this when I was young, he told me that his father had also done it.
Despite marrying at 18 and divorcing at 22 because his first wife did not want children (she never did have any), he didn't seem all that thrilled about fatherhood. He ignored me a lot (Which with my borderline mother was probably a good thing. She couldn't stand for me to have any attention that she could have had for herself) I can remember one instance of him attempting to throw around a ball with me and I'm pretty sure that my mother instigated that. I didn't really get to know him until my mother died when I was 22 and that didn't last too long as he remarried (to another woman with the same name as my mother) two years later. I only really had any priority to him during his first year of widowhood before he met my step-mother, who called all of the shots thereafter.
He never really had any patience with me, his only child, He'd get pissed if I didn't understand to do something new without being given instructions.
If he got pissed off enough he pulled out the belt. his favorite thing was to hold my arm while chasing me around in circles being my ass. That said, I was only whipped a dozen times at maximum. It was never enough for my mother who'd become an alcoholic when I was 8 and decided that I was the reason for her unhappiness.
The thing that stands out the most to me was an incident when I was probably 8 or 9. Mama was somewhere, probably working at her family's bar (She only worked when she wanted to, and it was never for more than a year at a time.) Daddy drove us down to the another bar, which was owned by a friend of his since childhood, and told me to sit in the car while he ran in. After what felt like an hour I went in to find him talking with his friends. He took me back out to the car yelled at me and called me an asshole. He went back in for a few minutes and then came out and we left he was angry at me and I don't think I ever really got over the sting of him calling me that.
He also refused to believe that my mother told me regularly that she wished she'd had an abortion. Finally, drunk, she said it in front of him. He didn't respond in any way, I felt as though my existence made the both miserable and that they'd both have been happier if it had been just the two of them.
On the bright side his only response to my coming out was to tell me that he hoped I found somebody that made me happy. But neither of my parents were very homophobic, though my mother was sure I was going to die of AIDS like a lot of her lesbian sister's gay friends (I came out in 2000 at the age of 19)... It's funny to think of how my other gay friends found it so amazing how cool my Dad, and later my stepmother, were about me being gay. I suppose I just always felt that there was so much lacking our relationship.
Most of it involved drunken antics. One summer when I was about 11 and on vacation, we were staying at a camp on a beautiful lake in Maine. I was out canoeing. My father and uncle decided to take out the gun to shoot birds.
I heard the distinct sound of a bullet whizzing by my head and they barely missed me. When I rowed frantically back to shore they told me I was full of shit and proceeded to continue their drinking.
I have zero positive memories of my father. Zero. Fortunately, he died young at 57.
Drive drunk with me in the van, push my head under water in the bath tab drowning me. He would let me up if he saw i was fighting back hard enough he was trilled when i punched him in the face. He said he needed tp see i was tough enough to live in this rotten world. He cut up my prized Mexican Jumping beans to see what they looked like inside. Even after i begged him not to. Came over shit faced and then proceeded to drink cooking wine as my mother was not a drunk like him. Until I was 8 and put a stop to it he picked me up by my hair to toughen me up. which was allowed to grow long . I still loved the bastard and I am sorry he is gone.
My father's best friend and business partner was a "confirmed bachelor". They spent three or four days a week "on the road" together. Even as a kid I noticed my mother drank a lot during the week, but never on the weekends, when my father was home.
That's interesting r252. Sad, but interesting.
Nureyev's father used to beat him, as he didn't want him to become a dancer. The father said all dancers were useless drunkards.
Nureyev said he was happy his father beat him, as the life of a dancer is tough, and the beatings toughened him.
He had this weird recurring habit where, stopped at a red traffic light, he'd open his car door, "hock up a loogie" and spit it out on the pavement, close the door and resume normal driving.
Mine was a pretty decent guy, but he grew up dirt poor and made it into the upper middle class, and that created a few kinks.
Like others have mentioned mine also had a lawn fetish, but it wasn't about mowing as much as watering. He had those little tractor sprinklers that "walked" along the hose--you would lay the hose out in a pattern and the sprinkler would slowly travel around the hose watering the lawn. Anyway, he laid those hoses out like he was planning the invasion of France, and he would come home at lunch just to reposition them for the afternoon run. If a brown spot appeared he would invent these wild zigzag patterns with the hose to increase the water in that area, and he was constantly buying the latest and best tractor sprinklers, usually at Sears for some reason.
He fought underground sprinklers for years, and when he finally broke down and got them it really took the sport out of it for him until he adapted. He would go around from sprinkler head to sprinkler head adjusting them with a little pocket screwdriver so the pattern was just the way he wanted it, and he was forever swapping out heads--the medium circle would be replaced by the big circle, and zone 1 would be adjusted from 20 minutes up to 22 and then down to 17 depending on the circumstances. He never l earned to set the clock o the microwave, but he was a master at the Rain Bird control box.
wow, these stories are sad to read. i already posted about my dad navy captain....about my gay brother.."in your brothers world , todays conquest is tommorrows competition".. i was 14yrs old at the time, i wondered what the hell is he talkilng about
Come home drunk, wake up my sister and me, make us come to the livingroom and listen to him sing "My Boy Bill". He would start sobbing when he got to the part about what if the son turned out to be a daughter. He did this week after week for years. And he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.
Allow me to pick up the child support check.
Mine really believed he was a great singer. He was not
Obsessed with turning off the fucking light switch. You could be stting on the toilet and if you forgot to lock the door you would suddenly see a hand appear and slowly shut off the switch near the dooe.
R231 my dad did the same thing. He said his ears were itchy and a matchstick was better than a Qtip for that.
Mine used to cut his toenails with a pocket knife
Drink like it was his job.
He had fathered 10 children by the time he was 36. (My poor mother.)
My dad fathered 7 children R265 and only the youngest 3 have the same mother.
My goodness but some of you have such vulgar upbringings.
Express a deep seated hatred and disrespect for all women.
Close his office door at work to watch As The World Turns. I don't think the guy ever missed an episode. He and mom would discuss their "story" over dinner. It was sad because he died just three weeks before the last episode. I watched it with my mom and we just cried and cried.
^That is so sweet.
Take really really long walk down by the docks.
Every time he left the house he'd drag one of us along because he was convinced if he left the kids home with our mother she'd run off with us and he'd be alone.
He'd never do it if my mother or brothers were around, but if it was just the two of us in the house (I was the youngest) he'd be naked a lot. Like he'd strip off his work clothes in the kitchen or walk out of the shower to his room naked, often stopping by my room. It mostly happened when I became a teenager. I was a pale and slightly chubby kid and he was tan and super fit. I don't know if he was trying to show off for me so I'd want to make myself more "manly" like him or what, or maybe he just wanted to be naked in his own house and knew my mother and brothers would freak and I wouldn't.
I'm convinced that a lot of our fathers did not like fatherhood...or they felt as if they were trapped into to a situation. My brother and I both promised that we wouldn't have children due to the way my parents treated us (passing out drunk, drunken tirades in front of company, fighting my mother, throwing his dinner on the floor, if he didn't like what was for dinner). My brother ended up having 6 children with a similar drinking issue but he spoiled his children. They are all entitled brats. I'm Gay and now wish that I had children because I know that I would have done a better job at fatherhood.
"Strange shit your dad used to do when you were growing up."
My dad brought a "talking" moose home one Christmas for our lone gift; he'd named it "The Christmas Moose." We were astonished when he'd actually led it into our family's rec room and tethered it to a nearby coat hook. The most bizarre thing had happened: once it warmed up next to our holly and garland laden family fireplace, expertly decorated with red silken bows and pine cones and candy canes, it had suddenly announced, "Moooo, I say!"