Happy Mother's Day! By the way, who's my father?

People tell me I'm still stuck in the 90's.
Call me old fashioned, but I'd probably be carrying around a clunky CD player if I wasn't given an iPod; probably still be carrying around a pager if they still made 'em. If someone else didn't open me up a Facebook page, social networking would be done - in person - on Friday and Saturday night.
I knew I had it right the first time.
I recently found out (via Facebook) my mom has a few hollow bones in her closet.
Apparently, mama was a promiscuous one.
At first, I thought the occasional random lady wanted to be my FB friend.
Apparently not.
Along with her friend request was a message saying that she grew up with my mom and that her brother thinks he's my father. No big deal. (Gulp).
Ahhh life and all of its surprises..
So me and mommy had a wittle talk that went a wittle something like this:

Me: So, mom.... Some lady told me that her brother thinks he's my father.
Mom: (Pause) Gosh...He's not your father.
Me: So there was another guy you were seeing while you were with my father?!?
Mom: Well...Yeah, but he's not your father.
Me: How do you know?
Mom: We took a blood test.
Me: (Jaws dropped) Gah.

I can see it now. Jan. 7, 1988. 5:48 p.m. Wailuku Memorial Hospital. Little bastard baby Rhys is born. Mother in tears of joy. Father in disbelief - footlong cell phone in hand - searching for his lawyer's digits.
Me and my father were never really close. As a child he'd visit me but once a year. And that one day, my birthday, is the day the doubt began.
I don't blame him either.
Saw a picture of my "so-called" father in his hay-day.
Turns out this guy's got my coffee-colored skin. My $1,000,000 smile. Bold eyebrows. Wavy hair.
Damn, this guy is a stud!
This guy looks more like my father than my father looks like me! Or I look like my father?
Either way, I'm pretty sure this guy IS my father!
Oh God... this means that I don't belong to the family I thought I was a part of. This means that I wasn't conceived in a green plantation house just steps away from the beach.
But ah, what can I do about it? I came out fine. Well, at least I think so. So my love for you will remain the same.
Oh mama... the one person I've spent my entire life with yet know nothing about. I love you. Thank you for sticking by my side - even when my father didn't. Whoever that is.
Oh Technology... how I wish you would mind your own business. Some things are better left unsaid.
Facebook: Just another way to spread the drama.
I miss the 90s.

Happy Mother's Day.

P.S. I haven't told my "real" father about the Facebook encounter. He may truly disown me if reminded. Figure somewhat of a father is better than none.

Gone searching for his side of the story...