Everything about parenting goes against my nature. I am a selfish, romantic, whimsical, and narcissistic person; and those are just the polite descriptors that I can stand to write about myself. I’m quite certain my sister could give you a slurry of inelegant character assassinations with no hesitation and little provocation. So go, all ye thirsty bitches, and seek her out for more.
In spite of and, in all actuality, because of those traits, I became a single dad with a beautiful daughter. When they asked me 30, 20, or, sadly, even 10 years ago what I wanted to be when I grew up, Single Dad was never on the list. It wasn’t even in the book. It was an absurd prospect for me, and I think everyone agreed on that point.
So of course it was surprising to all, myself included, when I relocated to the dirty south for my estranged kid. Shocking still when fate bullied us into a home together in just a few short years. Complete the dad-hat trick with a plague of biblical proportions, et voilà! Q is hustling alone in Houston-mother-fucking-Texas, raising a gorgeous teenage girl whose mental and emotional faculties are eerily similar clones of myself. It’s an absurd reality for me, and I think everyone agrees on that point.
You can’t tell me that fate doesn’t have a sense of humor. Personally, I consider my life to be the punchline for many of his jokes. He’s got a real twisted sense of humor, that mother fucker, but he’s not evil. He’s certainly not good, nor anywhere in between. Fate is simply how you accept life. I’ve always tried to do the right thing, though not always at the right time. In my life, my relationships, and my career, one right step after the other is the goal. It practically never works out the way I plan but I keep on trekking. Not a daddy day goes by that I don’t shake my head and think, “I am not cut out for this shit.” I ask myself in anguish, “how the hell did we get here—she and I?” Broke, broken and broken-hearted… but together.
And that makes all the rest worth it. Everything about parenting goes against my nature. As a father, everything about teenage girls massages my nerves with a thousand jagged razors. My complete cluelessness as to what I’m doing or how I’m doing it is so humbling and humiliating that I think I’ve actually developed a new way to cry on the inside. In spite of all that, now that I know my daughter, I can’t imagine a life where we are not together.
So when she posts some seductive pictures on Instagram and my heart drops straight out my ass as I lose my shit, it’s a small comfort to know that I won’t kill her because somewhere in the back of my mind, hiding in a cave of uncertainty, is a loving father wailing in great grief at the loss of his little angel. His cries are faint echoes behind empty, red-blinded eyes. A very small comfort… No, I love her too much to let memory have her (still selfish like that) but pour me a glass of whiskey because daddy’s gonna preach tonight!
And preach I did. I won’t get into details because I don’t need you thirsty bitches all up in my parenting business but if I’m being completely honest, I quite enjoy these teachable moments. I’m so oldhead that I forget about the naïveté of youth. It’s adorable except for the inevitable tragedy of wisdom. I love these talks because they make me remember what it feels like to be careless and free of serious concerns. Hate those looks that she gives me, though. Gotta listen to that small comforting echo. Yes, he sounds like a little bitch but we will get through this… Together. You love this little idiot child, Q. And even though she consciously does shit that she KNOWS will drive you crazy, she loves you, too. And yea, it sucks that your whole body is fueled daily by caffeine, sugar and panic attacks, but all that extra work on the nerves just makes your heart stronger. It’s science, don’t question it. Just suck it up, love her curiously large butt, put one good foot in front of the other, and be proud of the road not taken.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. ~Robert Frost