Did I marry a man like my father?

For Father's Day let's examine the men we choose in our lives

This is Gabe, my college boyfriend, now husband, and father

My husband, the father to my two children, is nothing like my dad. I’ve heard about the studies suggesting some women tend to marry men like their fathers. Not me. No way.

Gabe is the quintessential nice guy. My mom asked me once, very seriously, “Does he ever get mad?”

Obviously he does, he’s human. However, it takes a lot for this man to overtly appear mad to the outside world.

My dad, on the other hand, was known as the guy you don’t piss off — among family, my friends, and boys who called my house. When we’d go to the mall, we’d walk through Nordstrom looking for shoes but I’d watch each and every sales associate like a hawk. It was my mission to shoo them away before they approached me and my dad, with their polite sales pitch, “Hi, can I help you find something?”

My dad walked around life with a wall around him and you better not get anywhere near it. To this innocent sales associate who unknowingly crossed said wall, my dad would snap back in his aggressive filipino accent, “If I needed help, I’d ask you!”

My dad was always mad. He’d hold the fire inside for days and weeks. I saw a lot of the back of dad’s head as he sat and watched TV, ignoring us when he was giving us the silent treatment. I’d sneak into the kitchen behind him in hopes I wouldn’t interact with his unpredictable behavior.

As I grew out of being his little girl who’d willingly go on fishing trips with him on Saturdays, reasons for his anger around me changed. Lots of it had to do with me getting older, my grades, my eagerness to hang out with friends, and when boys called. I was not allowed to speak with boys, have boyfriends, breathe the same air as boys. It was tough for this curious 16-year-old.

Then I moved off to college and met a boy at freshman orientation. He was smart, funny, and always treated me with respect. Surely, dad would eventually be fine with this boy calling me, right?

I was sad and offended when they met for the first time after we had been dating for several years. My dad wouldn’t shake Gabe’s hand.

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My dad died in 2008 before my husband and I got married and had kids. I still think about him each Father’s Day.

While on a walk this weekend, I was thankful. The father of my kids is unlike my dad.

Then this nagging emotional pull steered me in another direction.

Do we call it a coincidence that my dad and my husband both love fishing? Let’s think about the fact that my dad was a Navy Seabee for 20 years, the construction unit of the branch; my husband has been running construction companies for about two decades.

Then there’s the one glaring similarity.

Both of these men have encouraged and pushed me to pursue my dreams.

In 2004, while nearing the end of college, my dad showed his support in the only way he knew how. Never a man to say or write much, he sent me a Dear Abby clip. He cut out a section of the newspaper, sealed it in an envelope with nothing else — no note, nothing — and sent it to me in the mail. The clip is called “women living their dreams offer support” and is littered with advice from real women, including this quote, “a woman can travel as far as her dreams can take her.”

The Dear Abby advice column

Throughout our relationship, Gabe has gone along with my rollercoaster of a career. Each job move, each promotion, quitting, writing, and now podcasting. Gabe is a very private person so I know a little piece of him sort of wants to die at the idea of me sharing embarrassing bits of my life with you all.

But he still pushes me to keep going. He encourages me to create goals. He smiles with me when I make any sort of accomplishment. He asks me questions about what I’m doing each day and genuinely wants to hear the full story.

I’m grateful I did not marry a man who is mean to his children, like my dad was to us. I’m also grateful I married a man who has helped me realize my memory of my dad can be imperfect and that a walk outside can help me remember two of my life’s biggest cheerleaders.

I encourage you to examine your relationships — with your father, with father-figures, with the men you choose to be with, the dads of your children, grandfathers. None of them are perfect, some of them probably annoy you, or make you angry. But they are all complex humans. What have they contributed to your life?