She Stole Him From Me

I hate my step-mother. She's a nice woman and all, and she's been nothing but great to me, but I still hate her.

There's nothing that she could do that would get me to stop hating her. She could give me a kidney, drag me out of a burning building, shove me out of the way of a moving bus, or take a bullet for me and none of them would keep me from hating her.

I could never tell her that I hate her though. She wouldn't understand my reason for hating her.

I hate her because she stole my dad from me.

I still live with them and everything so it's not like she got him to move away from me. No, she stole my dad from me in a much different way.

To understand the situation you need to know that I was born on my dad's 15th birthday. My birth mother wanted to put me up for adoption, but my dad convinced my grandparents to take me into their home and help my dad raise me until he could do it on his own.

From the very first moments of my life my dad and I had a very special relationship. He refused to let me be put up for adoption even though taking care of me frequently made things very difficult for him.

My dad filled every role that he had to in order to make my life comfortable and happy. He was my dad, my father, my mom, and my mother. By dad I mean that he did the fun stuff that a girl and her dad can do together. By father I mean that he laid down the law teaching me right from wrong and all that stuff. By mom I mean that he took me to the mall and spent all day shopping for clothes with me and doing other things that a young girl would typically do with her mom. By mother I mean that he taught me right from wrong like a father, but he also helped me when I started getting my period and things like that that a mother would normally do for her daughter.

My dad was everything to me. It came at great sacrifice for himself though. He could have had a high profile high paying job...he's that smart, but instead he worked out of our apartment so that he could take care of me and be there for me.

It was just me and dad for a long time and we were happy. Oh sure when I started school I had a lot of friends and everything, but at home it was me and dad and we both loved it that way.

Because of the small apartment we lived in when I was growing up my bed was in the same room as my dad's. It had been the same when we lived with my grandparents when I was really young. When we moved into the apartment most nights I would get out of my bed and crawl in bed with my dad. He didn't mind. After a while I just started going to bed with him instead of starting the night in my own bed.

I slept with my dad every night from the time that I was 5 until I was 17 unless one of us was sick then I'd sleep in my own bed. When I was younger I would frequently wake up with my head on his shoulder and my arm across his chest. As I got older I'd wake up and find either myself spooned up behind him or him spooned up behind me.

There was never anything sexual about it. I'm sure a lot of you are skeptical about that. A lot of you are probably thinking that my dad is some kind of pervert sleeping with his own daughter or that I'm some sick mentally disturbed girl that wanted to have sex with her dad. That couldn't be further from the truth.

It was just two people sharing a bed. Married couples sleep together every night, but 99% of the time sleeping together actually means sleeping and nothing else. For me and my dad sleeping together meant actually sleeping 100% of the time.

My dad and I were best of friends, as close as two people could be, we shared a bed, but there was no sex involved.

Then he met Lisa.

When I was 17 we moved out of the apartment and into a house near the college that I was planning on going to so that I'd be able to live at home while going to school. We set a bedroom up for me, but there really wasn't much of a point in setting it up because even when I had my own bedroom I sill slept with my dad.

When he met Lisa though things started to change. They went on a few dates before anything happened and the first few times they went to Lisa's house, but then one day my dad told me that he was going to bring Lisa to spend the night at our house from time to time and that I'd have to start sleeping in my own room.

I was devastated. My dad and I didn't have a sexual relationship, but he was throwing me out of his bed to share it with another woman.

I had been happy that my dad was dating because he's such a great guy and he deserves to be happy, but to have him tell me that I had to stop sleeping in his bed...it was like he reached into my chest and ripped my heart out.

That's when I began hating Lisa.

I hadn't slept in my own bed unless one of us was sick since I was 5 years old. It was really strange and hard to get used to not having my dad beside me in the bed. For as long as I could remember he was there, but then after meeting Lisa he wasn't there anymore.

That's not the only reason I hate Lisa though. As dad spent more and more time with her he spent less and less time with me. I knew that was probably going to happen when he started dating, but when it started really happening I missed spending so much time with him.

We used to talk to each other about everything. He started doing that with Lisa instead of with me. Over the course of their 6 months of dating Lisa slowly but surely replaced me in my dad's life.

The only thing that she had to offer him that I didn't was sex and I got upset with my dad that he would choose sex over me.

After 6 months of dating they eloped to Las Vegas and got married. It was Lisa's idea. They didn't tell me about it until after they got back so I didn't even get to be at my dad's wedding. That removed any doubt about whether or not I hated Lisa. She had kept me from being there to watch my dad get married. I don't think she did it intentionally, people usually don't bring their daughter along when they run off to Las Vegas to get married, but it really hurt that they'd do it without me.

She had been warm and kind to me and she wanted to do a lot of 'girl talk' with me which I have to admit I enjoyed, but as I would sit there talking with her I couldn't get my mind off of how much I hated her.

I could never give my dad what Lisa does. I could never have sex with him. For a long time though we had a very close and intimate while non-sexual relationship. Now my relationship with my dad is what I assume the relationship between most fathers and daughters is. After the relationship that I had with him before he met Lisa I absolutely hate the way things are now.

Lisa stole my dad from me and I will hate her for the rest of my life because of it.