a/n: With all my digging and research, I’m confident in the opinions I’ve put forth in this post, but these are just my opinions—based on the facts and evidence of this case, which I have in spades, should I ever be asked to testify to them.
It’s embarrassing, and yes, slightly disturbing, when your 60-something father dates a woman just two years older than you.
So, I get it. I get why some people continue to believe I simply didn’t like Misiree or my daddy’s decision to date her. If I had written this post in 2019, before I knew all that I do now, those people would be correct in assuming I’m unjustified with all my vitriol. Honestly (and that’s what I’m all about), I also think it’s a bit much when I read it back, but those are my true-blue thoughts, and I had to get those bad feelings out of me! This blog is my place of refuge, where I can vent my spleen freely. That post, or rather, the purging of my soul, was long overdue. I just lacked the guts and proper motivation until recently.
I wasn’t happy about Dad’s choice to abandon his second marriage in the way that he did—hell, I wasn’t thrilled when he did it the first time to my mom, but I didn’t object when he told me he was dating his mistress. I might’ve had moral qualms, but it was not my place as his daughter to lecture him about his dating life. All I cared about was Dad’s happiness and health. I wasn’t against Misiree from the start, nor did I hate her then, like she seems to believe. Neither did my little sister, as far as I know.
We didn’t care who was making him happy, as long as he was truly happy.
I also don’t blame Misiree for not realizing Dad was an alcoholic at first. I’ve found evidence suggesting Dad started drinking again around the time he moved out, so maybe Misiree never even met my sober dad. A pity. He would’ve had some measure of control in those early stages, and, as much as I love my daddy, I know he lied to me often. He would have lied to her, too. Dad also lied to his ex-wives and almost everyone else he spoke to, constantly making promises he couldn’t keep. He still had his job and PRN holding him accountable, so he kept things under control. Until he couldn’t anymore.
By the end of 2019, he had to be showing signs of slipping. As the person then closest to him, Misiree should have noticed. To me, Dad was surlier and more prone to confusing bursts of emotion. He’d been pulling away throughout the year, but I hadn’t yet put it together that he could be drinking again. Or maybe I was in denial. It’s my belief that Misiree did notice, but instead of helping him, she took advantage of the situation. I’m speculating, but I’ve gathered enough evidence to support this theory.
I repeatedly told Dad that this was “his time to shine,” encouraging him to enjoy life with his new girlfriend but to be careful. He hadn’t yet retired, but he was close. Dad was just itching for those Golden Years. If he wanted to be a “Sugardaddy” to a young woman my age, that was his choice. It was his hard-earned cash, not mine. If that’s all this story was, I wouldn’t be writing so vehemently about this person three years later. My dad had a similar arrangement with another young woman, and I have nothing but respect for her. She even helped us fill in some blanks. Dad had other “girlfriends,” some were better to him than others, but I’m sure the same could be said about his treatment of them. Part of Dad must’ve accepted that these were transactional relationships.
I try not to judge Dad for his choice to “date” this way. Nor do I judge the women. What a woman does with her body is her business; as long as both parties are consenting adults, Dad could’ve spent all his money that way without me batting an eye. Had I known, I would have worried about his safety and state of mind, but I doubt I would have said anything. Eventually, we would discuss the difference between reputable dating sites and riskier ones, which felt like having the birds and bees talk in reverse. I’ve never felt so awkward in my skin, but I’d do it again for my dad.
Misiree doesn’t see herself as equal to those other young women Dad dated, and she’s partially right.
That other woman was mostly honest. She wasn’t perfect. None of us are, but Misiree is a pants-on-fire-liar. She lied not only to herself about what she was—she lied to my naïve daddy about what she was, too. He wanted her to be different from the others, despite all the evidence to the contrary. (Read a one-sided convo w/ a sociopath’s texts and you can determine for yourself how Misiree felt about my dad.) She acts as though she’s better than those other women because she didn’t meet Dad on a website but allegedly scouted him out at his place of work while he was still married.
That on-and-off period in 2019 might’ve been the only time they ever had a proper relationship. Since most of those texts are difficult to recover, it’s impossible to be certain. Regardless, the relationship was riddled with manipulation from both sides, creating a toxic dynamic. It’s hard to read through their texts because it’s clear my daddy didn’t know what he was doing, desperately trying to play this crazy game with her while sinking deeper into his addiction. By January 2020, Misiree no longer saw Dad as a boyfriend—if she ever did—or even as a de facto Sugardaddy. He was too vulnerable, easy prey, and she couldn’t resist the temptation.
Before this, I was fine with their relationship, if a bit bemused.
Dad’s heavy drinking was causing rapid mental deterioration, which made it easy for scammers to access his bank accounts. New bank cards were issued over and over. He was too proud to ask for help. I think that’s why he had trouble reporting the various thefts he experienced in his final years; he was too embarrassed it had happened, ashamed of being duped. He also knew it would lead to more questions, like how this could have happened to him, and the inevitable conclusion would be our thinking that he must be drinking again. Dad was done with rehab and wanted to avoid it at all costs.
It appears Misiree began to sneak over to Dad’s house to snoop while he was passed out drunk, using his computer to take screenshots of his messages with other women. It took some serious sleuthing, but that’s how I found them, too—first as screenshots on Dad’s computer, then as attachments in her texts to Dad, confirming that she’d most likely been the one to take them. It would’ve been silly if Dad were the one taking these incriminating screenshots, but for the sake of transparency, I wanted to be clear about how I tracked this back to her. FYI: if you do something on a computer, a trace of it will be saved forever and ever, even if you delete it! (Thank you, DiskDrill!) In the following days, Misiree would send these screenshots back to Dad as proof of his infidelity—never mind the fact that she’d also been cheating all along. She didn’t even bother trying to hide it. Misiree would drop clues in her social media, driving Dad bonkers with doubt. Sometimes, other people would outright call her out for it, commenting on her posts about different incidents that had occurred. She didn’t hide these comments or make her profile private; as far as I know, she still proudly displays it all, like a badge of dishonor.
My drunk daddy couldn’t figure out how she was gaining access to his texts, but he did catch on to her coming and going without ever saying a word to him. This I gleaned from their conversations over text message. It’s hard reading how confused he was in his texts, knowing what he was going through. Dad started getting paranoid, looking into phone tracking software and even checking out Misiree’s criminal history. He started following her to see where she really went when she said she’d be back in a few hours. Dad would end up sitting outside her boyfriend’s house, taking photos of her car parked in his driveway, and demanding to know why she kept doing this to him. He shouldn’t have done that, no matter her provocation. I am not blind to Dad’s wrongdoings. They just pale in comparison to hers.
Again, this is why they had a toxic relationship.
So, those two were bad for each other even in optimal circumstances, when Dad had some semblance of control over his mental faculties—just barely, mind you, as by then he’d mentioned thinking he had a stroke several times over text. I believe he did have several mini-strokes, brought on by his uptake in drinking after he lost his job, which further impaired his thinking.
By mid-2020, Dad was in crisis. My sister and I had gently started applying pressure, as we’d discovered he was drinking again at one of the few dinners he didn’t cancel. Things were coming to a head. It took Dad longer than it should have, given his liquor-brain-addled state, but he did realize that something was amiss with his relationship. He started pulling bank statements and investigating credit card charges, taking screenshots that helped me track things later. The amount of money my normally frugal daddy was losing each month boggles the mind. To me, it showed how truly lost in the sauce Dad was that he didn’t deal with it sooner.
This part of Dad’s story always makes my heart ache, because I know just how much his retirement meant to him. Please don’t mistake my meaning: Dad worked hard for his wealth, and I never once felt entitled to it. Not as a child, nor as an adult. My heart does not ache with regret for money I could have spent. I’ve never considered Dad’s wealth “my inheritance.” When I received his old bank statements in the mail and saw how much he’d lost, I imagined how Dad must’ve felt when he realized the same thing. I imagined how Dad might’ve reacted to seeing the money he’d spent his entire lifetime compiling slip through his fingers faster than water, when he’d been so careful for so long, and how devastating that must have been. I doubt Dad ever thought his drinking could bring him so low, yet even then, he didn’t want to go back to rehab. He had to be forced with a Marchman Act, and that’s how I know just how sick he was.
My daddy was a generous man who took care of the people he loved. Misiree was lucky to be one. So was I, and many others. It hurt to see her exploit him at his weakest. For a long time, it bothered me knowing she got away with it. Now that probate is over, I’m able to look at things differently. I can now see how my dad positively changed this person’s life. I might doubt Misiree deserves such a boon, but Dad always had a compassionate heart.
Even as his mind slipped away, Dad chose to love this rotten apple. It’s up to Misiree not to squander his last gift to her.
a/n: This post might seem disparaging to someone who doesn’t know me. I didn’t intend to make my dad look bad by sharing these private details about his dating life. I apologize to anyone, especially those in my family, who takes offense. The evidence I use to support everything I say comes from either my investigation or the probate process, but any opinions I express based on that evidence are solely my own. I just wanted to clarify a few things from my previous post about Misiree and make sure the difference between my opinions and the facts is clear. Thanks for reading.
I love you so, Daddy.
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I can see that my “like” button is still perpetually loading, so I’ll work on resolving that today. (Not that I think this post should be flooded with likes, or anything… hah… awkward.) Also, I think my emails didn’t send—again—but I’m not sure. If anyone can let me know, I’d appreciate it! Happy reading and a great weekend to all.
Replying to my own comment on my own blog post that’s whinging about my lack of likes: Yikes. I’m sure all these errors can be traced back to my use of a sparkly purple mod-podge background photo. Alas, mine hands refuse to change it. So, I guess, ignore the “Like” button I unsuccessfully tried CODING into my site like some kinda tech-genius (ChatGPT has its uses), as I still don’t think it works. I’ve got to give up at some point and move on with my life. I did add a cool-looking stars rating system — I do love space, so let’s just use that instead? I’m missing that dopamine hit I get whenever my phone buzzes with a new “like” from Jetpack, but that plugin is dead to me.
Also – really wanted to “like” this post as well! But I think I was able to give you five stars (hopefully).
It worked — you’re my first official “review,” Anon, and it’s a real shiny bright one at that! Thank you for the kind words 🩷
I continue to stand in awe of your writing, your honesty and your courage.
Thank you for sharing this journey. It is illuminating and helpful beyond measure.
You are an amazing writer. I am so invested in your story and look forward to your next chapters. I didn’t know your Dad but your story brings him to life and tells about real life issues and struggles. When I read your texts to him I see your pure daughter heart- your messages are sincere and your love is unconditional. I’m ready to *BUY NOW when your book is published!
Thank you for your support! Sometimes I worry I went a bit overboard in my texts. I feel melodramatic now looking back, but at the time those thoughts didn’t even occur to me. I was always so concerned that my dad thought I didn’t love him or that I only loved him for his money, like the women in his life seemed to, so I’d go out of my way to make it clear to him that’s not how it works with daughters.