All of the ads, teevee shows, movies, and social media posts about Father’s Day make me want to crawl under a rock. Even my autocorrect capitalised it.
My dad passed away eight years ago, when I was in my mid twenties. We never had a great relationship, but it doesn’t matter. I wish we could have the option to try to get along with each other. I don’t want to hear about daddies being put on pedestals, when to talk to mine I have to go to the cemetery.
And in pop culture, there are no fathers without mothers. I’ve got zero desire to be a mother, so when I watch and read this drivel I feel alienated on both levels.
Somewhere on the freeway near here there’s an anti abortion billboard that says, “Real men love babies.” I’d get an abortion if I got pregnant, so does that mean I’m not a real woman? Or the man I end up with isn’t a real man? Of course not, but always there’s a little part of me that feels guilty for not wanting babies. I don’t know why. I don’t care what other people think because I live my life.
Maybe it’s the natural, maternal instinct *cough social brainwashing cough* rebelling against my clear negativity towards birthing and raising a child. Hmmm. I just armchair psychologisted myself out of feeling depressed over baby movies!
If you can read this dad, I love you. I wish we could have got on better.
A Vague & Menacing Agency 
Whatcha say?