In a loud boisterous crowd at the New York State Fair, someone shouts, “There’s Daddy! Over by the cotton candy.”

A little boy, holding on tightly to his mother’s hand and making a sloppy mess with a walk away sundae in his other hand, says “goody” assuming it’s his father, the only person he knows named Daddy. His mother leans down, laughing. “No honey, that’s not Daddy. We’re meeting Daddy where they have all the kiddie rides. Let’s keep walking; we’re almost there.”

A gum-chewing blonde in her thirties, wandering through the crowd, stops abruptly, eyeing the cotton candy stand. She’s wearing an overabundance of jewelry and doing a balancing act on an uncomfortable pair of stylish shoes that she now realizes aren’t the best choice for a long day of walking around the fairgrounds. She’s had a few beers and without thinking, blurts out, “That can’t be Daddy. We’re supposed to meet in the cow building.” Still, she takes a few steps forward, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight, half-expecting to see her boyfriend, a man three decades older that she is. Her boyfriend, who brags about being extremely wealthy, does have money, but nothing close to the wealth he claims to possess. Later today, when she and Daddy are in the stands wildly cheering for the adorable pig they hope will win at the fair’s popular pig races, Daddy will carelessly let something slip that’ll clue her in to his true financial status.

Sitting at a picnic table munching on onion rings and scrolling on his phone, a lean 19-year-old with tussled black hair in skintight jeans and a clingy black-mesh shirt that shows off his nipple rings, arches his back and looks over his shoulder, merely out of curiosity, knowing full-well it’s not the Daddy he’s waiting for. His guy is a 47-year-old jacked gym rat he met online and has been dating for the past three months. And as usual, he’s late. The 19-year-old hovers over his phone, sending a quick text. “Daddy wtf! Ur late!!! Where r u?” A large hand slaps his shoulder and a deep voice says, “Right behind you babe.”

These three men who all answer to “Daddy” are not the man that prompted the middle-aged “someone” to shout, “There’s Daddy!” That middle-aged woman hurries over to her elderly father. “You can’t just take off without saying anything,” she says. “I kept texting you, got no response.” Her father grunts with a dismissive wave of his hand, then pulls out his phone. “Oh yeah, I see them now.” He raises an amused eyebrow. “That’s a boatload of texts.” His daughter shakes her head in frustration. He shakes his head right back at her, then leans forward, whispers “sorry” and plants a kiss on her cheek. He gestures with an outstretched arm for the rest of his family to come over. “Cotton candy for everyone, on me,” he tells them, flashing a warm grandfatherly grin.