My dad is the greatest. He always supports me, and tells me, “Andi, you’re my favorite daughter” every time he sees me.
But sometimes, I think my life would just be so much easier if it had been way harder. Like if my dad had died or abandoned me.
My friend Heather from art class talks about her parents’ rough custody battles, and I just feel so boring in comparison. She makes these really beautiful abstract paintings and calls them things like, “Hope and Pain” and “Mom’s Birthday, 1997”. All I ever paint is flowers! She says she never really knew what “home” was, and she hated having to have two of everything. I’m really trying to be less materialistic these days, but seriously, twice the stuff? Sign me up.
My suitemate from college, Tanya, never knew her father at all. She told me her therapist said that could be why she was attracted to cold, disinterested guys. I wish I had that excuse! I seem to attract all the creepers! The last guy I slept with asked if I would call him “Daddy” in the middle of sex, and all I could think was, “OMG, this would be SO much less creepy if I’d never had a dad.”
I guess it’s kind of like when I told my black friend from work Monique (not THAT Mo’nique!) I wished I could be black for, like, a day. She told me not to say that ever again, but I think she was glad I appreciated her struggle.
People with daddy issues are just so much more interesting and artistic, and I wish I were one of them. But please don’t tell my dad that. I need him to pay the bill for our Fathers’ Day Brunch.
