My brother Mateo has fathered children with three different women and frequently borrows money from me.
Recently, he mentioned he might have another baby on the way. I told him firmly, “Get a vasectomy! Why keep having kids you can’t afford?”
Then he shocked me with a confession: “I think I’m addicted to being needed. I don’t know how to say no.”
At first, I thought he was joking or avoiding the truth. But his serious, broken tone reminded me of when Dad left us years ago.
Mateo was always the charming one, the jokester, the guy who could talk his way into anything. But underneath, he was a people-pleaser to a fault.
His first child was with Lianne when he was barely 21. She raised their daughter mostly alone, and Mateo sent money when he could. Then came Nura, then Tanith, and now Kelly, whose last name he barely even knows.
He told me, “Every time I see a woman struggling, I want to be the one to help. Then I get trapped.”
I said, “You’re not a savior, Mat. You’re a dad with three kids and another coming.”
He admitted none of the moms knew about each other fully, and that made me sick.
I’ve always been the dependable one—the “solid rock” Mom calls me. Mateo’s life was constant chaos.
He asked again for money to help Kelly, who was behind on rent and had a little boy with a father who bailed.
I told him, “You’re not a lifeguard. You need to keep yourself afloat first.”
He grew quiet, then said, “I wanted to be there this time, not just show up with gifts and guilt.”
I gave him $200, even though it meant delaying my own bills.
Something felt off, so I looked up Kelly online using a last name Mateo left in my car.
No pregnancy. No baby photos. Just pictures with her boyfriend—not Mateo.
I messaged her, asking if she was expecting. She replied, “No, we dated last year but haven’t spoken in months.”
I confronted Mateo. He panicked and admitted he made up the pregnancy story because he needed money and didn’t think I’d help otherwise.
He revealed he was behind on child support—over $9,000—and faced legal trouble. He lied because he didn’t want to be seen as a deadbeat.
I told him, “You can’t lie your way into being a better man.”
After I left, he started volunteering at a community center with support groups for dads. He even got a consultation about a vasectomy to stop the cycle.
He said, “I want to be someone my kids can count on, not resent.”
He asked me to help organize a meet-up for his kids and their moms. Two moms agreed, and the kids connected surprisingly well.
Mateo started steady work and made his first real child support payment.
He’s still on a long path but he’s honest now, showing up and trying.
He told me he’d told the kids about each other and had a video call with them. He wants to do it right this time.
I’m proud—not because he’s perfect, but because he’s making an effort to change.
If you have someone who keeps messing up, hold them accountable but keep the door open. Sometimes all it takes is one moment of truth to turn things around.
Thanks for reading. If this story touched you, please like or share—it might help someone else.
