I paid for my stepdaughter’s birthday, but wasn’t even invited she chose to invite her deadbeat dad

The Eighteenth Birthday and the Secret Party

Fast forward to last month when Kayla turned eighteen. This was a big milestone.

I asked her weeks in advance if she wanted to go out to dinner. I suggested we throw a party or maybe take a weekend trip just us or with friends.

She always brushed it off. “I’m still figuring it out,” she’d say.

Imagine my surprise when I log on to Facebook and see pictures from a party. It was her party with dozens of friends, balloons, cake, and the whole shebang.

Standing right next to her was Mike, smiling like he just won Dad of the Year. He was holding the knife while she cut the cake.

I wasn’t invited. Hell, I didn’t even know it was happening.

Later I confronted her. I didn’t go in yelling.

I just asked, “why didn’t you tell me?” She looked guilty.

“I just wanted to do something with my real dad,” she said. “it didn’t feel right having you both there.”

“My real dad.” I nodded.

I didn’t yell or cry. I just left the room.

The next day I called the dealership and told them to pick up the car. I still owned it.

I called the school and pulled out of the tuition payment plan. I called the landlord and gave the required notice for the apartment.