My father was never really there when I was little. When he was home, he was drunk, asleep, or passed out. I spent more time with my dad's friend Mark than with dad. I don't get along with him, and I definitely DON'T respect him. Thankfully mom devorced him. That didn't stop him from being able to call me a stupid money-hungry *****. He wants to be a friend rather than a father. Of course, my friends (the few I have) dont' call me names and make me feel ****** like dad does. So, no, I don't have a father, not really. There is the man that calls himself my father. I love him, don't get me wrong. But, it would've been nice to have had an actual father growing up.