I imagine my narcissistic social father would have been appeased with the idea that whatever sperm they were using came from an educated, intelligent man - which it quite probably was in 1981 in a country without a sperm bank where a clinic had to provide fresh sperm on the spot - he would be able to pass the child off as his own and actually score additional brownie points on being the father of a smart little thing.
And, boy, did he do that! He bragged about me, he showed me off, he talked to teachers, he took all the credit. I was always top of the class and they never invested a dime in my education, as I always got scholarships.
When my mother died and he found a new girlfriend, he lost all interest in me until I was defending my M. Phil thesis (at age 26; he graduated from university - just barely - at age 28) and the possibility of being in the limelight again appeared to him.
After the defense, after he had bragged to the professors, he said "Thank you for making this possible for me" and then said he couldn't understand a word of my exposé. That he couldn't even understand what it was about. It was in our native language, not in English (which, by the way, he can't speak, nor is he capable of learning a single foreign language, even after years of study).
He said he lost me after I'd used the word "dichotomy". No, actually, he said something else and I only inferred that "dichotomy" was the word he'd found so challenging.
I didn't know I was DC back then, but I was shocked and somehow saddened. How come my own father is so, ummm... intellectually challenged that he can't understand simple, normal words, let alone the subjects that interest me so much?
Not understanding it didn't keep him from appropriating it - he knowingly discussed me with my mentor and the committee.
I now wonder, had I at least been allowed to have occasional contact with my biological father and his family, if I'd have had some support and direction towards the scholarly stuff that interests me so. If I'd have had some understanding and someone to talk to about the topics that I obsessed over. I thought I was just weird and had weird interests, but now I allow myself to think of myself as an ugly duckling who might have benefited from at least some contact with a swan or two.