Love, But Only on My Terms: Fathers Who Use Proximity as Power ©

Before We Begin:

Let’s be clear about one thing: This is not about the fathers who show up every single day —the ones who are present, consistent, and intentional. The ones who lead with love, who carry their role with care, and who put in the work quietly without needing applause.

This is also not about toxic mothers — that’s another conversation, I've address this already. This is about the actors, the manipulators, and the full-time victims — the ones who turn parenting into a performance and proximity into power. The full-time victims who weaponize half-truths  and curate fatherhood like a performance while outsourcing the work to everyone else.

This is for those who cling to excuses, and confuse proximity with presence.The ones who rehearse their narratives so well they’ve convinced themselves they’re true. And somehow, they still escape the same scrutiny mothers face daily.

Saturday Morning.

He pulls into the driveway — a bag in one hand, his phone in the other. The kids hear the car and run to the door, excitement bubbling because he showed up this time. "Look what I brought you,"  he says, handing over sneakers, a tablet, maybe some cash. Click. A quick photo for social media. Photos sent by text to family and friends. The caption writes itself: “Nothing matters more than my babies.”

And you’re standing there thinking, “You must be fucking kidding me.” 

Because you know he’s not here to stay. He’s here for the photo, the performance, the applause — not the parenting. This is another drive by.

During his drive-by, he’s hoping for a meal and dropping hints for a quickie — just to see if you’ll bite. Failed attempts because "You must be fucking kidding me" has been playing on loops in your head. Two hours later, he’s gone. Again. Phone in hand the entire time, texting and smiling through the visit like it was an errand he had to get through. Once again, you've done well being decent in front of the kids. He caught a few well deserved strays but they went over the kids heads.

He moves through life like a man seated on a throne, expecting praise simply because he showed up. As if presence — without emotional investment, without effort, without consistency — should earn him the loyalty and reverence of the people he’s neglected.

The Semi-Single Mother

You’re left — the semi-single mother — balancing the weight of raising children full-time and carrying the cultural weight of misogyny that praises him for proximity but judges you for daring to need more or being exhausted.

He gets credit for showing up. You get labeled “bitter” when you dare to name the imbalance.

You decide to tell your kids nothing, because his actions will tell them everything they need to know. All they have to do is observe.

Performative Fatherhood Is a Systemic Problem

This isn’t accidental. It’s systemic. We’ve normalized performative fatherhood — applauding men for curated moments while women quietly shoulder the reality of parenting alone.

Here’s the hypocrisy: Society is quick to point fingers at single mothers. Quick to blame them for “broken homes,” and calling them "Welfare Mothers." Women are criticized for “raising boys without fathers,” for every outcome they were left to manage alone.

But let’s ask the question nobody wants to touch: Who’s calling this bullshit out?

The part no one names: this is calculated. It’s not clumsy. It’s not accidental. It’s manipulative.

Proximity becomes a tool — a curated illusion of fatherhood used to control the narrative without doing the work. He ignores what it looks like when he shows up, and he’s banking on you staying quiet about it when he doesn’t.

Society lets him get away with it. Because in a world where fathers are praised for presence — not parenting — breadcrumbs become currency. A photo here, a gift there, a weekend “when he can,” and suddenly he’s a good dad.

Some fathers mind-fuck themselves into believing they’re doing enough. They convince themselves that showing up occasionally counts as parenting. It’s self-deception. They’re not fooling anyone — not the mothers, not the kids, and eventually, not even themselves.

If Women “Can’t Raise Men,” Neither Can Emotionally Unavailable Fathers

If people believe women “can’t raise men” on their own, then let’s keep it consistent — neither can fathers who are emotionally absent, inconsistent, and disengaged.

You don’t get to skip the emotional labor and still claim credit for shaping the man your child becomes.

And it’s not just about the sons who carry his name — it’s about the daughters, too. Daughters watch their fathers like mirrors, learning early what to expect, what to accept, and what to demand from love. When proximity becomes a bargaining chip instead of a promise, they internalize patterns of inconsistency as normal. They grow up questioning their worth, measuring themselves against the time, attention, and tenderness they never received. It’s not just missed moments — it’s shaping the blueprint of their expectations.

Parenting isn’t gendered when it comes to responsibility:  If you helped create the child, you don’t get to outsource the work or curate your image while someone else carries the load.

In parenting, “outsourcing” shows up when they provide money, gifts, or material things instead of emotional availability. When they delegate nurturing, teaching, and discipline to the mother and relatives while convincing themselves they’re still “involved.”

Money Is Not a Substitute for Presence

The weaponization of money must stop. Because writing checks is not parenting. No more hiding behind your wallets, What's invaluable is your guidance. Your seat at their games. Your hand to hold when the world feels heavy. And stop blaming their mother for your absence. She didn’t make you inconsistent. She didn’t cancel your visits. She didn’t choose your ego over their needs.

You did.

Here’s the quiet truth no one wants to say out loud: All you ever offered was money, and now that’s all they’ve come to expect. Don’t confuse financial obligation with emotional investment. You can’t cash-app your way into connection. 

Meanwhile, His Love Life…

Meanwhile, his love life looks like a DMX verse —“Brenda, LaTisha, Linda, Felicia…” A different storyline every weekend.

Reservations? Booked.Trips? Planned.Instagram captions? Perfected.

But when it comes to his own kids — the ones with his last name?Suddenly, there’s no time, no energy, no money.

Because the effort isn’t missing — it’s mismanaged. Always chasing the next thrill, yet somehow too “busy” to show up for the kids who carry his legacy.

And let’s not pretend we don’t know about the men who will pour into another man’s child before their own — showing up, investing, performing — everywhere except where it matters most.

He takes “Poppa Was a Rolling Stone” to another level — but even rolling stones leave a trail. He’s perfected the art of passing through without leaving anything to hold on to.

The Echo in the Room: Sons and Daughters Are Watching

Children don’t always have the language to name what they feel — but they always notice.

Your children aren’t just watching how you treat them — they’re watching how you treat their mother. Sons are silently studying your every move, learning what love looks like, what manhood tolerates, and what power sounds like. Daughters are listening, too — internalizing your tone, your absence, your excuses, and the names you call their mother when you think they’re not listening.

Some will vow to do better.Some may mimic your behavior. Either way, the blueprint is yours.

So when Daddy is dishonest, how upset can he truly be when his child grows up fluent in deception? Children don’t follow what you say you believe — they mirror what you consistently do.

1. Attachment and Emotional Security

Inconsistent fathering creates ambivalent attachment — a deep psychological push-pull. Children learn to crave closeness but never trust it. They start to internalize the idea that love is conditional, unpredictable, and fleeting. Later in life, this shows up as:

• Anxiety in relationships

• Fear of abandonment

• Overcompensating for affection or approval

2. Self-Worth and Identity Formation

Kids equate attention with value. When a father shows up only when it’s convenient — or performs love for social media instead of living it — children start questioning:

• “Am I not important enough?”

• “Why does he show up for everyone else but me?”

• “What’s wrong with me?”

Over time, this erodes self-esteem and can foster imposter syndrome, making children believe they have to earn love rather than expect it as their birthright.

3. Emotional Regulation and Modeling

Children model what they see. A father who performs love without showing up teaches:

• That avoidance is acceptable.

• That emotional unavailability is normal.

• That relationships are transactional rather than reciprocal.

This doesn’t just affect how they relate to him — it shapes how they’ll relate to everyone else: friends, partners, even their own children.

4. The Long-Term Impact

By adolescence and adulthood, the cracks widen:

• Some grow into adults who overfunction, constantly proving their worth to be chosen.

• Others underfunction, numbing themselves to avoid disappointment.

• And many unconsciously repeat the cycle, either becoming the same absent parent they resented or choosing partners who mirror that inconsistency.

Children may forgive, but their nervous systems don’t forget.

Fast Forward…

When he’s older — when life slows down and silence finally catches up — he’ll start reaching for the same kids he kept waiting. He’ll want the closeness he didn’t build, the love he didn’t nurture, the connection he never prioritized. His children watched what he prioritized — and what he didn’t. They no longer hold space for excuses he rehearsed so well he started believing them.

The phone he never put down has stopped lighting up — they stop calling, stop asking, stop trying — and that loneliness will be his and his alone to sit with. Not because they’re cruel. But because they’re matching energy. And suddenly, the soundtrack shifts. It’s no longer DMX — chaos, motion, and conquest. Now, it’s “If You Think You’re Lonely Now.”

Because the sneakers have long since been trashed, the tablets outdated… and all he’s left with is the quiet he created.

And in that silence, something else creeps in — comparison. He’ll start noticing the dads around him: the ones who invested, the ones who showed up, the ones who unselfishly built relationships. Some of them were friends who openly co-signed his party life — slapping him on the back, laughing too loud, “Man, you crazy!” and “You still got it, playa!”

But behind those smiles and empty toasts, they were watching. Taking mental notes they’d never say out loud. Because deep down, they pity him. The “you still got it” was code for “you’re still stuck.”

And now, he notices something he never paid attention to before: these men would never trade places with him. They’d never give up the holiday dinners, the father/daughter dances.

They have the things money can’t buy:

• Being the first person their child calls when something good — or bad — happens.

• The warmth of being called a “girl dad.”

• Knowing their child’s fears, quirks, favorite songs, and small victories without needing someone else to fill them in.

They’ve built unshakable bonds:

He’s now observing — and envious of — the men who made better choices. They chose their children. He chose himself.

He’ll crave the closeness they now have with their kids — the effortless calls, the Father’s Day celebrations, the shared inside jokes, the “come by anytime” bonds. The father/son and Girl Dad post on social media are hitting differently now. He has none of these moments and no one to blame but himself. If mom were to blame, the children have figured that out as well. However, she'll always get a pass because she was there. He’ll realize, too late, that he can’t retroactively parent his way into connection. Presence was always the currency, and he invested his everywhere but where it mattered most.

And what’s left?

Just silence — the kind that forces you to sit with yourself.

That’s when the real weight hits: the children you thought would always orbit your world have built worlds without you. They learned to stop asking. They learned to stop waiting. They learned that love isn’t supposed to feel transactional — and they refused to keep paying for yours.

So back to DMX. He once barked out to the world, “What these bitches want?” But in the end? He looked in the mirror and whispered something different — something softer, more human. A confession. A plea. “I let you down... Should've been there, but I let you down. I can’t give you yesterday, but I can learn from my mistakes... Call your father.”

That’s the thing about time — it reveals what ego tries to hide. When the music fades, when the phone stops ringing, when the gifts no longer work as currency, all that’s left is what you built — or didn’t.

A Special Nod to the Mothers

To the mothers who parent through inconsistency, chaos, and broken promises — your strength is the quiet kind that rarely gets celebrated but should never go unnoticed. You carry the weight of two roles without acknowledgment, balancing discipline with comfort, truth with protection, exhaustion with grace. You are forced to become both soft landing and solid ground, shielding your children from disappointment while silently absorbing your own. And somehow, you still show up — every single day — with love, stability, and resilience that money can’t buy and proximity can’t fake.

SIDEBAR: A Therapist’s Lens on Performative Fatherhood

Behind every missed call, canceled weekend, and unkept promise lies more than disappointment — there’s a psychological imprint. Children don’t just remember what parents say; they internalize what parents do. When a father is inconsistent, emotionally unavailable, or weaponizes money in place of presence, it can shape a child’s developing sense of self.

Diagnostic Snapshot: This isn’t just inconsistency — they are diagnosable patterns:

• Avoidant Attachment Patterns (F94.1)Emotional distance masked as independence; shows up only when it’s convenient or image-boosting.

• Narcissistic Traits (F60.81)Curates the appearance of being “the good dad,” seeks validation over connection, prioritizes ego over intimacy.

• Emotional Neglect (Z62.820)Physically present, emotionally absent. Leaves children questioning their worth: “Am I not worth showing up for?”

The Weaponization of money & writing checks is not parenting. Providing gifts instead of guidance doesn’t build belonging; it breeds emotional debt.

The Intergenerational cost Children raised in this inconsistency often carry forward:

• Anxious attachment → Overcompensating for love and approval

• Avoidant attachment → Repeating emotional distance

• Role reversal → Parenting the parent who never truly showed up

As Maya Angelou so powerfully framed it:

"People will show you who they are, and you have to believe them. But, you also teach people how to treat you."

When fathers weaponize money and minimize presence, they unintentionally teach their children how to treat them later. The “silent phone,” the missed invitations, the absence of Father’s Day calls — it isn’t cruelty. It’s a learned response to patterns they’ve witnessed their entire lives. Every man has — and is entitled to — his side of the story. But some themes run constant. Too familiar.

It’s easy to dismiss narratives that strike a nerve. Easier to label her as crazy or bitter than to face the weight of choices made and connections missed. But denial doesn’t erase patterns — and children grow up carrying the receipts.

P.S. If your first instinct after reading this was to discredit the author, label women bitter, or deflect the discomfort — pause.Before you scroll, before you argue, before you minimize — sit with it.

Ask yourself:Why did this hit a nerve?What part felt too close? Too personal? Too familiar?

This piece isn’t an attack. It’s an invitation —To notice what’s been left unsaid. To reflect on what children observe. To ask yourself what legacy you’re shaping through your presence… or your absence.

Growth starts in the places we most want to avoid. So if this stirred something in you — maybe it’s worth sitting with that for a moment longer.