Right Fighting versus Fighting Right

Yesterday morning I received an e-mail marked From Dad:

My not wanting to come to your apartment that you share with Scott in no way reflects how I feel about you or him. I welcome him to come to my home any time. He is welcome at the beach house anytime. He is a welcome to participate in as many family activities as he chooses.

I wish you would reconsider not having a birthday dinner. I can assure you that we will not discuss anything that would make you or Scott feel uncomfortable. My intent is not to make anyone feel uncomfortable, but to celebrate my daughters (sic) 27th birthday as a family.

First off, good. This is the first time he has ever acknowledged my boyfriend. When my father calls, he doesn't ask about him; when he invites me out to dinner, he excludes him; and when he set up the family vacation this summer, his name was left off the list. So this is good that he acknowledges all of this.

However, it looks like he is remaining firm on his stance not to ever come to my home. Which, in turn, makes me still not want to go out to dinner. His hypocrisy in this situation astounds me.

I let the e-mail sit and then avoided two phone calls from my father. Clearly he was making an effort and the ball was officially in my court. After pouting for most of the evening, I called him back.

"I don't want to step foot in an apartment that you're sharing with a man when you're unwed," he said.

"But you went to my step-sister's apartment when she was living with her boyfriend! Why can you go to hers, but not mine?" I asked.

"I don't remember going to hers. That was 6 years ago."

"Well you know, Dad, this isn't really the point. I think when it comes to taking the moral high ground, you have no right to talk. At all," I spoke sharply. I thought bringing up the cheating and the picking out the new family would put a stop to this asinine nonsense.

"I don't have a right to say anything when it comes to the moral high ground, but so what? I am."

I sat at the other end of the line, dumbfounded. I could feel the black storm cloud form above my head as I sat on my living room couch. If I had actually started getting rained on, I couldn't have been any more surprised.

"Well I think it's pretty shitty that my father refuses to come to my apartment. I am completely insulted and hurt over your actions," I snapped.

"It's my way of showing my displeasure in your decision," he reacted.

I reached for an old argument: "If you can't accept me, then I don't think you should be there."

"I do accept you."

"No, you don't!" I shouted. "I can't go out with you and pretend that this doesn't exist. That my home life doesn't exist. That my apartment doesn't exist!"

"I shouldn't be a part of your home life. I don't want to be a part of your home life. That's between you and Scott. It has nothing to do with me."

"That's right! It's between him and me! And by you being vindictive and refusing to come to your daughter's apartment, you are inserting yourself right in the damn middle of my home life!" I hollered. I mean, I can't be the only one convinced that I'm arguing with a crazy person. I took a deep breath and tried another tactic. "Look, I am telling you that you are hurting me, and you won't do anything about it. You are refusing to make it better. You have every right to your opinion, but the way you are going about it hurts my feelings."

"You hurt my feelings by moving in with a boy."

My mouth gapped open, "I thought you said you wanted nothing to do with my home life."

"I don't."

"So why are you're feelings hurt? You know, you say you're not to be involved, and then you throw yourself right in when you don't like the outcome. That's not fair. You're not playing by the rules. You are setting me up to fail."

Then he said something—I don't remember what*—but it was blatantly obvious that no matter what I ever said to him, he would never stop being right. No amount of logic and reasoning would ever affect him. Nothing I said impacted him, including calling him out on his behavior. There was no point on continuing the conversation.

And to be honest, I don't know that there ever will.



* I just remembered. It was when he told me if my brother had moved in instead of getting married, it wouldn't have been as big a deal.