My stepdaughter Emily saw me as nothing more than an unwelcome guest. I hoped she’d accept me, but years passed, and nothing changed. A week before her wedding, she gave me a heartbreaking ultimatum to have a Father-Daughter dance with her. Shattered, I decided to teach her about love and family.
Hey everyone, it’s Arnold here. Just your regular guy in his early 50s. Life in the quiet suburbs of Maplewood was going pretty smoothly until a few years ago…
That’s when I met Laura, a kind-hearted woman who had been through her share of ups and downs. We fell in love, and it felt like the pieces of my life were finally coming together.
Laura came with a daughter, Emily. She was seventeen when we got married, and let me tell you, she wasn’t too thrilled about her mom remarrying.
Emily’s dad, John, was a good man, but life had hit him hard. He struggled to make ends meet, and Emily saw my presence as a betrayal of her father. The full brunt of her hatred fell on me.
From the get-go, Emily made it crystal clear that she didn’t like me.
She wouldn’t call me anything but “Arnold,” as if I were just a guest passing through.
Each day was a silent reminder that I wasn’t welcome in her eyes.
One evening, as Laura and I were cleaning up after dinner, Emily walked in. She glared at me before turning to her mom.
“Why him, Mom? Why couldn’t you just wait for Dad to get back on his feet?” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the air.
Laura sighed, her eyes softening as she tried to explain, “Emily, I loved your father, but our marriage ended long before Arnold came into the picture. I need to be happy too.”
Emily shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “You betrayed Dad,” she whispered, then stormed out, leaving Laura and me standing there, heartbroken.
“You know she’ll come around eventually,” Laura said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
I nodded, hoping she was right, but deep down, I wasn’t so sure.
“Maybe one day,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
But Emily only saw my presence as a betrayal of her father. She was always cold toward me and hated being around me. You know what hurt me more? She only regarded me as some “guest” who was staying with them.
I longed with fragile hopes that Emily would accept me as her father one day. But that day never came.
One evening, as we were all sitting in the living room, Emily suddenly said, “Mom betrayed Dad when she married you.” Her eyes were filled with resentment, and it stung like a fresh wound.
I tried to stay calm, clenching my jaw. “Emily, your mom deserves happiness too. I’m not here to replace your father.”
She scoffed. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to live with the betrayal every day.”
Laura looked at her with pleading eyes. “Emily, please understand. I didn’t betray your father. We just decided to grow apart for the better.”
Emily’s face softened for a moment, but then she shook her head. “For the better? It doesn’t matter, Mom. You moved on too quickly. You just needed a man.”
Laura and I winced at those words. As Emily turned to leave the room, she muttered, “I’ll never accept him.”
She just smirked and slammed her bedroom door shut, the loud bang echoing my own sinking feeling: she wasn’t just shutting the door, she was shutting me out of her life.
I knew she needed space, so I tried to give her as much as possible. I hoped that time would heal her wounds, but each passing day made it seem less likely.
Laura sighed, her face etched with worry. “She just needs time,” she whispered.
“I hope so, Laura. I really hope so,” I sighed.
Years passed, and Emily grew into a beautiful young woman. She met Tom, a wonderful man who adored her.
When they announced their engagement, it was a bittersweet moment for me. I wanted to be a part of her happiness, but I knew our relationship was still strained.
One evening, as Laura and I sat on the porch, Emily approached me, a smile lighting up her face, a smile unlike any I’d ever seen directed at me.
“I have a surprise for you,” she began. I looked at her, hopeful.
“What is it, Emily?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“You can dance with me on my wedding,” she said bluntly.
I was over the moon, thinking she’d finally welcomed me into her life. Tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged her, but she immediately withdrew.
“BUT ON ONE CONDITION,” she continued, her voice cold.
“What is it, honey?” I asked shakily.
“I want a grand wedding. I want you to pay for everything. It should be perfect and stunning. In return, I’ll have a Father-Daughter dance with you at the reception. Deal?” she said.
It was a cold, transactional offer. I knew her father John couldn’t afford the grand wedding she dreamed of, and she was ready to overlook her father’s role in her life for the sake of luxury.
Hot tears burned behind my eyelids, threatening to spill. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing them back.
Despite the hurt in her words, I saw an opportunity to teach her something valuable. I may not be her real father, but she was still my daughter, and she needed to learn the real meaning of love.
“Alright, Emily,” I agreed, my voice calm. “I’ll pay for your wedding.”
She looked at me, surprised by my quick agreement. “Thank you. Then you can have the dance with me,” Emily bluntly said.
She was so elated and hurried out to the beauty salon with her friends, not even caring to bother or see the hurt in my eyes, though I stood there, faking a smile.
As she left, I turned to Laura. “She’s got a lot to learn about love and… family,” I whispered.
The weeks flew by in a blur of preparations. Laura and I spared no expense to make Emily’s dream wedding come true. The bridal gown, food, wedding cake… everything had to be PERFECT.
The big day arrived, and the venue was nothing short of magical. Every detail was perfect, from the floral arrangements to the exquisite menu. Emily was radiant, her joy evident to all.
I dressed in my best, expensive suit. Laura looked stunning in her beautiful satin dress. Everything looked just perfect and breathtaking.
As the reception progressed, the moment for the Father-Daughter dance approached. Emily looked around, expecting me to step forward. But I was nowhere to be found.
Instead, John, her father, took his place by her side. There was a flicker of confusion in Emily’s eyes. Her eyes darted around, looking for me as I quietly watched from behind the grand floral arch.
“Can I have this dance with you, sweetie?” I heard her father ask her, extending his hand. Emily quickly masked her disbelief with a smile and danced with her father.
I stood there, my heart heavy but relieved. Laura squeezed my hand, her eyes filled with pride.
“You did the right thing,” she whispered.
I nodded, watching Emily and her father. “I hope she understands,” I said.
After their dance, a waiter approached Emily with an envelope. She took it, curiosity piqued. As she tore it open and unfolded a paper, she recognized my handwriting.
The note read:
Dear Emily,
I hope your wedding day is everything you dreamed it would be. Watching you grow into the woman you are today has been a privilege. Paying for your wedding was my honor, but the Father-Daughter dance is something more personal. It’s a moment that should be shared with the man who has loved you unconditionally since the day you were born.
I wanted to dance with you, to show you that I have always considered you my daughter. But I couldn’t let you betray your real father for the sake of luxury. Love and loyalty are priceless, and I hope this lesson will stay with you forever.
Congratulations, my dear. May your marriage be filled with love and happiness, and everything you could ever wish for.
With all my love,
Your Stepfather.
Emily’s eyes welled up with tears as she finished reading the note. I slowly approached her as she glanced over at me.
Standing at the edge of the room, our eyes met, an emotional understanding passing between us. There was no need for words.
She understood the lesson I had hoped to teach her: Love, loyalty, and integrity were far more valuable than any amount of money.
Emily approached me with a tearful smile. “Thank you,” she whispered, hugging me tightly. “I’m sorry for everything.”
I held her close, tears streaming down my face. “I’m sorry too, Emily. I never wanted to replace your father.”
She pulled back slightly, looking up at me. “You didn’t replace him. You just added more love to my life.”
Those words broke me. I had longed to hear them for so many years. “I love you, Emily. Always have, always will.”
“I know I’ve been a terrible daughter. I’m sorry… for hurting you. For calling you names. For everything. I love you, Daddy,” she cried.
That word which I had been yearning to hear her call me all my life felt like nectar. “Can you repeat it?” I tearily asked.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said again as I could no longer hold back my tears. I hugged her back, my heart swelling with pride and relief.
From that day forward, our relationship changed. Emily no longer saw me as a replacement for her father but as an additional source of love and support in her life.
She learned the importance of staying true to those she loved, and I was grateful to have played a part in her journey.
In the end, the wedding was not just a celebration of Emily and Tom’s love, but also a turning point in our family, bringing us closer and teaching us all the true meaning of love and loyalty.
Laura stood next to me, holding my hand. “She finally realized it, sweetheart,” she whispered.
I stood with pride, knowing Emily and I had finally bridged the gap between us.
“I’m just glad to have her as my daughter,” I replied, my heart full.
Gazing at the sunset, hand in hand with Laura by my side back in our home, I knew this was the dawn of a beautiful new chapter. What more could I ask for? My heart brimmed with contentment, our little haven a promise of endless joy.
Joan Collins Turns 91: Photos of Her Transforming Appearance through the Years
Her childhood was unconventional as she grew up during the Blitz period. Years later, Joan thought it would be great to do a film about growing up with her sister during this era but her dream hasn’t come to fruition.
Even so, the actress said that as the war continued, she was just a child, unaware of the bombings. She would collect fragments of debris from the streets and store them in her cigar box each evening.
She narrated, “We would draw silly pictures of Hitler. We were evacuated 10 or 12 times. We would be in the tube stations, and people would be playing their harmonicas and singing.”
Despite the chaos, Joan Collins, who deeply loved her Anglican Briton mother, realized that she did not want to live the same life her mom lived. “Mummy was the 1950s housewife, very sweet and very docile,” she explained.
The actress had previously said that her mom, who died at the age of 52, died very young because she never spoke back to her husband.
oan also shared that “My father never held back. I saw him as a figure to look up to more than my mother. I loved her to death but I considered her to be weak and I hated all the clothes she wore.”
The actress’s mother consistently wore girdles, suspenders, stockings, tight bras, underpinnings, and corsets, which Joan disliked.
Joan, who took great care in her appearance, was voted the most beautiful girl in England by a photographers’ association when she was 18. The newspapers asked her dad what he thought about her daughter’s position, he replied, “I’m amazed. She’s a nice-enough-looking girl. Nothing special.”
At this point, Joan had departed from the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA), developed a passion for French existentialism, admired the singer Juliette Gréco, and dreamed of becoming a celebrated stage actress.
The focus on her appearance was even more as her film career progressed. Joan disclosed that in Hollywood, she faced daily verbal abuse.
She recounted how the makeup department gave her cruel nicknames, such as “Moonface” due to her baby fat and “Scrawny Legs” because of her thin legs. She remembered the department as a large group of women who were particularly harsh and unkind to her.
In 1955, when Joan was 22, she was cast in the biopic about Evelyn Nesbit “The Girl in the Red Velvet Swing.” Evelyn was considered the most beautiful girl in New York and Joan was to play her.
So, one day, Joan who was still in the Juliette Gréco character and thus had no makeup and was in jeans with scruffy hair, ran into her director Richard Fleischer. Richard told her, “Oh my God, I cannot look at you – you are so ugly. You cannot go around like that – put some makeup on, get your hair done, get a proper dress.”
Just like her career, Joan’s personal life also had its ups and downs. When she was 17, still a virgin, the actress went on a date with actor Maxwell Reed, aged 31. He spiked her rum and coke and raped her.
“I was 17, but I was the equivalent mentally of 12. We did not have sex education,” she noted. Shockingly, Maxwell became the actress’s first husband. When asked why she chose to marry her rapist, she answered, “Because I come from a generation where if you’re going to have sex, you get married.”
However, when Joan learned that Maxwell wanted to give her to older men for $12,710 a night as long as he could watch, she stood up for herself. After four years of marriage, the two divorced.
In her 20s, Joan lived with several men, including Sydney Chaplin and Arthur Loew Jr. She also had an affair with a married man who was eight years her senior. As much as the man was handsome, witty, and fascinating, Joan said the affair was utter hell and she never engaged in one again.
Hollywood men, including directors, also went after Joan. In her autobiography, “Behind the Shoulder Pads,” the actress revealed that she was offered the role of Cleopatra in Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s film on the condition that she got along well with Buddy Adler, the head of Fox, and the chairman of the board.
Joan, who was disgusted by how directors and producers, who were old men, took advantage of young actresses said no as she never wanted to be a part of that. The Cleopatra role was given to Elizabeth Taylor.
In the memoir, Joan also wrote about having an abortion when she got pregnant at 26 with her fiancé, Beatty, a 23-year-old aspiring actor. Beatty convinced Joan to abort the baby because it would derail their career. Years later, she agreed with him, noting that if he had a baby, she would have had to say goodbye to her acting career.
Joan went on to have three kids. She had her first two, Tara and Alexander with her second husband, Anthony Newley. Her last child, Katyana, is with her second husband Ron Kass.
The actress’s third husband was Peter Holm and she is now married to Percy Gibson. Joan announced that she was engaged to Percy in December 2001 and then the pair got married in 2002 at Claridge’s Hotel in London, in front of 175 guests.
The lovebirds, who have been together for over two decades, met when Joan was featured in a touring production of the play “Love Letters” in the US. The Peruvian-born theatre manager also helped Joan edit her novel “Star Quality.”
Many people talked when Joan and Percy Gibson got married because he is 32 years younger than her. Joan was asked to comment on their age difference and she said, “Well, if he dies, he dies.”
In 2023, Joan gushed about her marriage saying that she had found the right man in her current husband, “Oh yes, Percy and I have been married for 21 years and it’s just marvelous.”
Now, Joan is in her 90s but she still has the youthful charm and grace in her presence. When asked if she has had cosmetic procedures done, the actress simply said with a shrug, “If people want to think I’ve had surgery, then…”
Joan added, “You can tell [I haven’t] because I have lines and jowls. When I see women around my age I think: ‘Oh, really? My gosh, I look quite a bit…’ I think I look pretty good!”
The movie star is also needle-phobic and just couldn’t bring herself to have cosmetic work done on her. She attributes her good look, perfect complexion, and youthfulness to staying out of the sun.
She added that her mom taught her to moisturize her skin and use night cream, something she also taught her daughters. Joan’s lovely appearance still amazes her fans.
In April 2024, Joan enjoyed a fun photoshoot for the New York Times Fashion and Style section. She looked radiant in a white cardigan paired with an off-white cap and black trousers.
A fan, amazed by her look, said, “You are simply iconic, dear one, and stunning ♥️♥️.” Another admirer commented, “You always look so beautiful♥️.”
When she turned 90 in 2023, a fan shared a picture of Joan taken on the streets. The actress was in a modest flower dress styled with a white coat, a sun hat, and sunglasses. The fan captioned the post, “Happiest of birthdays to Dame Joan Collins, who turns 90 but easily looks at least 20 years younger.”
At 91, Joan Collins is content with both her personal and professional life. Retirement isn’t on her agenda, as she plans to continue working because of her passion for it.
She acknowledged that performing her one-woman show and staying in a different hotel each night was exhausting, but the enthusiastic audiences and her love for her work made it a rewarding experience.
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