_bossanova_

I had the most lovely dream that I was with most of my family last night. I talked to my dad forever last night, which is probably what inspired it. A few years ago I moved to Houston from Atlanta and lived with him for a year (the company he worked for offered me a higher-paying job). That was actually when I joined SG; the move to Texas prompted me to get out of an awful 7 year relationship (I know, that's insanely long). For my dad's part, the move seemed to precipitate change in his life, too; he ended up divorcing my evil stepmother soon after. It did us both a lot of good because we grew closer without even trying.

My parents divorced when I was 8 and I guess he was always closer to my brothers. Then, when I was 15, my stepbrothers came to live with my dad and his wife. I wasn't the oldest anymore; I finally had an older brother, and a cool one, too. He loved the same music I did (Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, the Pumpkins, Alice in Chains) and had all kinds of cute friends that wanted to date me (though I wasn't allowed to date until I was 16 and had never even kissed a boy). Anyway, one night after we'd been hanging out at the local roller rink with our friends we ended up back at my dad's, hanging out in my brother's room (where I stayed when I was there on weekends). I was falling asleep on my stomach when he started massaging my back, and I froze. I pretended to be asleep, hoping he'd go away. Instead, he groped my breasts. I hadn't even kissed a boy before and this was my first sexual contact: unwanted. This happened a few more times, at different times and in different places, with me asking him not to each time. It escalated to him putting on porn when I was hanging out with him, buying me sex toys, and him saying things about my breasts and how he was sure I was going to be amazing in bed when I lost my virginity. I was afraid to say anything to anyone because his mother (my stepmother) didn't bother to hide her extreme dislike of me and my brothers. I avoided him, and my mother noticed what was going on.

Eventually, it did come out, at the worst possible time. I was starting college and working for my dad at his law office, anxious to start my academic career. My dad found out and told me that I was to blame because I didn't go to public school and therefore "didn't know how to handle boys". My stepmother called to scream at me that there was no way her boy did that to me because I was too ugly-he could've had any girl he wanted (at this point I'll have you know my measurements were 39"-25"-40"). I wrote letters to my dad, I called and argued with him, I did everything to let him know how much this hurt me, and nothing changed. My stepbrother lived with him and they both showed up to family functions. I finally didn't talk to my dad for 3 months, and he showed up at work demanding to speak to me. I began talking to him again, but often for stretches I just couldn't bring myself to call him back and he'd call my mom to ask why I wouldn't talk to him.

So, Texas gave us a chance to heal a lot of what was between us. I still think what he did was wrong, and I wish he felt he could talk to me about it, but I know he won't live forever and I'm happy he can be in my life. I'm glad I can know my father and be loved by him, in whatever flawed way he loves me, because some of my friends have lost their fathers or never knew them.

Wow. I didn't intend to write so much about that, but it feels good to.

So much for my thrilling update on my third week in New York.