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Farthest Day

So it’s Father’s Day today.

A day in which you are supposed to do stuff like wash your dad’s car, buy him novelty socks or something and he gets away with not doing any DIY and puts his feet up.

Not me, oh no.

My parents divorced many many years ago and I had to choose who to live with monday to friday and who gets me at weekends. Although I didn’t really choose, my sister decided to go live with my dad because he would be an easier ride, stay up late, have boys over etc and it was true. I couldn’t bear the thought of not being with my sister and so I automatically followed her. I was too young to really comprehend the matter anyway.

So things didn’t work out and I went back to mum. Over the next few years I saw my dad less than every weekend, it was every other week. Then every month. then birthday or christmas and a week in the summer holiday. Then it was four years and I never saw him or heard from him.

I managed to track him down when I was 18. I was taking a year off before university and wanted to get back in touch so I made calls, wrote letters and finally found him less than an hour away. I went to live near him for a while but I was moving around on my year off, making the most of being out of education for the first time in 15 years.

Roll on a couple of years and I’m working a bar when he just walks in with his girlfriend and they’re going for a drink. Completely by chance, completely by accident. It was just a bizarre coincidence that he walked into my place and we chatted and swapped phone numbers and he called once.

So another few years go by and I’m trying to sort my life out, trying to put to rest the ghosts of the past and lo and behold I track him down. It wasn’t hard. I went to the town he lived in, went to a couple of bars he drank in, talked to a couple of people who knew him and I got an address. Seriously, from leaving my front door to knocking on his the whole thing took about 90 minutes…. and it took me 45 minutes to drive there in the first place. 45 minutes to find this man who never made one attempt to find me.

So we chat and again swap numbers. Then nothing.

I saw him last three summers ago, I was at the beach playing crazy golf and I saw him and I HID. honestly, I ducked behind a post and sat there until I knew he was out of sight. Then I calmly took my ball and club back to the hut, said goodbye to my friends and drove home crying all the fucking way.

I need to let this man go but he still has such an effect on my life and I know it’s holding me back.

The other side to Father’s Day is that it should be a day for Fathers to sit back and reflect on their children, how they are growing up/grown up, how he has influenced their lives and what else he can do for his kids. I shall be doing some of this today. You see, I may be a father. Yes, after complaining about how shit my own dad is, I now confess that I too may be a shit dad. Out there somewhere, is a little girl with curly hair and hazel/green eyes who may or may not be my child.

About 11 years ago, I got talking to a significant ex. She said her bloke was going away and we should hang out like old times. Now I know that may sound like a set up, but after we split up we still hung out together – hell, we even double dated once and it wasn’t weird! So she came down to place, we went out, hit the metal clubs and partied. Yes, we got back to mine and fucked all night like little bunnies. Nine months later, a baby was born.

The thing is, she slept with him on the friday and me on the monday. It’s a 50/50 call, I know. Friends of hers have told me how much she looked like me as a baby, and yeah it tore me up thinking about it. I have always wanted kids, always wanted to make a proper family. However, the situation at the time was me – drunk, manic depressive, university drop-out or him – son of wealthy parents and owned his own business. I know who I would rather have as MY daddy. So I don’t know. I don’t know if she is my child or not, maybe I’ve been worrying all these years that she is mine when she is not. Maybe I should forget about her entirely (except on Father’s day, when it is impossible to do so), maybe I should track them down and demand a paternity test?! But what would that really achieve other than fuck that little girl’s life up?

The only thing I can safely do is nothing, do nothing and wait. Maybe one day I will get a knock at the door and a woman will be there asking if I am her Dad. If that day ever happens, I will take her in and hope she can forgive me for choosing the route I chose.
Anyway, it’s Father’s Day today. I hate Father’s Day.

  1. Smacky
    June 20, 2010 at 12:57

    Giz a cuddle x

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