There’s a few things that make life easier for a girl these days: waterproof mascara, the knowledge of how to change a tire, and a great dad.
I first met my Dad when I was 0 days old. I met a lot of people that day for the first time. I was a very social newborn. That bearded dude fed me, clothed me, cared for me and taught me about how dumb it is to wear pants inside your own home when you’re alone.
He may have had it easier than my mother when it came to parenting. Like so many families, he was the Weekend Parent. While my mother was the person who had to coax a very sleepy me out of bed to catch the school bus in the morning and force me to do homework at night, he let me sleep until 10 and hang out in my pajamas all day.
He watched me fail at playing infield, and soar at hitting the ball. He was there for every dance class, every recital, and he never once even jokingly pointed out how uncoordinated I was. My Dad took a picture of me holding up the first Sun Fish I caught at age 3. Last week, 20 years after that first Sun Fish, he took a picture of me holding up my first Largemouth Bass.
This post is an ode to the good ones. We want to celebrate the first men we’ve ever loved, the only ones we can truly count on, the set standards for the guys we allow into our lives. Mostly, we want to give thanks to the fathers who didn’t turn their daughters into strippers or R&B singers who refer to their romantic interests as “daddy”.*
*I have no problem with strippers. I love strippers! Some of them are super smart women who want to work their body for quick cash. I will, however, always have a problem with Twista and Erkika Shevon’s song, ‘Wetter (Calling You Daddy)’