I Helped a Friend Have a Child — Now He Wants a Relationship I Never Agreed To

We make choices thinking we understand the consequences, but sometimes even the most carefully thought-out decisions can backfire, even if they started out as kindness. One Bright Side reader, Nathan (42, M), learnt this the hard way.

Here’s his story in his own words:

Years ago, one of the girls in my friend group confided in me that she wanted to have a baby, with or without a partner. She was independent, practical, and certain about what she wanted out of life. When she asked if I would consider donating so she could start a family, it caught me off guard.

We had long conversations about it. Not emotional ones, but thoughtful ones. She was clear: this wasn’t a request for a relationship or co-parenting. She didn’t want the complications of custody, involvement, or blurred roles. She simply wanted a child she could raise on her own.

At that time, it seemed like a reasonable request.

It didn’t seem like a big deal at that time, so I agreed. When her son, Ryan, was born, I was there, not as a father, but as a friend. I visited, held him, and watched her settle into motherhood with confidence and joy. And then I moved on. I got married and had kids of my own, rarely thinking about Ryan. I saw him occasionally at gatherings or birthdays when our friend groups overlapped, but he was just my friend’s son. My family and I eventually moved to the East Coast and over time, my ties with my friend also dwindled.

An unexpected message.

Over the years, I rarely gave a second thought about Ryan. He meant nothing to me but when he turned twenty-two, he reached out to me directly for the first time. His message was thoughtful and careful, the way someone writes when they’ve rehearsed what they want to say for a long time. He said he had spent years wondering about the other half of where he came from and his mom had finally told him. He said he wanted to get to know me and ’bond’.

I had to set expectations.

I replied as kindly as I could. I told him I cared about him in the limited way the situation allowed, but I wasn’t his parent and didn’t want to disrupt the life he and his mother built. I suggested that if he needed medical history or factual information, I would give it but I didn’t want a family relationship. He responded politely, saying he understood. For a while, things were quiet, and I hoped the conversation had given him closure.

But it wasn’t enough.

A few months later, a mutual acquaintance mentioned that Ryan had been asking people for my address. He hadn’t told me he wanted to visit. He hadn’t asked whether I was comfortable with it. He was simply trying to find a way to show up. That discovery left me unsettled. Not because he was dangerous, but because the original agreement, the boundary that shaped this entire situation, suddenly felt ignored. I wasn’t his father but he was acting like I was.

The final blow.

I decided to reach out to him and put an end to this. But when I called his tone was different. He said he would leave me alone if I included him in my will. At first, I thought I misunderstood. Before I could respond, he said, “I’m your son too, whether you like it or not.” There was no discussion in that statement, only expectation. I realized then that we weren’t talking about curiosity or identity anymore. We were dealing with a claim.

I did what I had to do to protect my family.

I immediately hung up and ignored his calls and messages. Then I hired a lawyer and got a restraining order against him. I also called up his mother and got an official statement that I was nothing more than a donor. I heard Ryan and his mom are no longer on good terms because of this. Some of our other friends think I was too harsh; they say that all he had wanted was a father figure and while I do feel for him, I’m not his father. I never agreed to be and I don’t think my real children need to suffer because of a mistake I made in my 20s. Am I wrong?

Nathan

Thank you Nathan for sharing a painful situation with us. Here’s our take on it:

• Remember that biology alone doesn’t define connection or responsibility. A parental role isn’t created the day a child is conceived. It develops through time, emotional presence, shared experiences, and commitment. If someone wasn’t involved in raising a child, it’s natural that the adult bond may not exist. It’s okay to acknowledge that without guilt.
• Acknowledge their feelings without abandoning your own. Someone reaching out may be searching for identity, belonging, or closure. It’s human to empathize with that but empathy doesn’t mean sacrificing your boundaries. You can care about someone’s emotional experience while still choosing not to participate in the relationship they want.
• In the future, always have a legal contract in place for situations like this. Verbal promises and trust can feel enough at the moment but as time passes, memories fade, intentions shift, and emotional stakes can increase. A proper donor agreement helps clearly define what the donation means (and doesn’t mean) long-term.

Did Nathan do the right thing? Let us know in the comments. Here’s another story about a son who sued his mom over his inheritance.