Saturday, August 9, 2014


This one's a tough one, but it's been on my mind since it popped into my head on Thursday night. I was at an outing with co-workers (and my new work-wife, who just got fired, so I'm again without a work-wife), and I nearly brought the room down with the sudden depression I felt when the matter came up. I don't even know how much I should talk about this. Those of you who have known me a long time can connect the dots, but . . . fuck it. This is my most honest platform for getting things off my mind. Besides, no one is reading right now. Who is up this late, anyway? Names will not be mentioned, just the situation.

I have always been against having kids. The thought of creating one has NEVER entered my mind, not for as long as I've known how to make one. My old set of reasoning was that I didn't want to bring any human beings into this shitty, fucked up world of ours, but as I grow older, I understand the real reason. As someone who was physically abused as a child, I'm deathly afraid that I will continue that cycle. I don't trust myself, because for the most part, I hate kids. I could easily see me hauling off and kicking one in the face. I don't think I would ever do that to a stranger's kid, but my own? I don't know.

Oddly enough, I'm actually very good with kids. Despite all the crazy shit I spout, I can handle them. I can entertain them. I can make them laugh. Why? Because I'm one of the rare adults who remembers what it was like to be that young, and I know exactly what will get to them. You see, I never want to bring a child into this world, but kids who are already here? I have no problem taking care of them.

I know that sounds contradictory. On this one, I have two separate ways of thinking about it. I hate kids, but at the same time, I know how shitty this world is. If the kid is already here, it's too late, so I might as well help the poor fucker, right?

Even that sounds hollow because of what I'm about to mention. A few years ago, I was with a woman who had a child with another man. I've known her for a long time, and we've been together on and off for maybe seventeen years. The third time I proposed marriage to her, she was a mother. Her daughter was a beautiful two-year-old, and I had a lot of fun with her. I was teaching her how to read. I was watching cartoons with her. I played all sorts of games with her, like the bucket game. She had these stackable buckets that fit into each other, and when I showed her how she could make her own voice echo with the help of these things, I think I might have changed her life, she loved it so much. Do you remember the first time you talked into a fan and sounded like Soundwave? It's like that.

There were the unpleasant things that went along with this, of course. No one likes changing a diaper. Nor do they like helping a kid who can't talk yet learn how to brush her own teeth. Hell, getting her shoes on was a pain in the ass. Kids squirm. It's unavoidable.

But the good times outweigh the bad.

A lot of people question the timetable, but I swear to you, I cannot possibly be this little girl's biological father. Too many people thought I'd been with her mother at that nine-month mark, but no matter what I say, no one believes me. We were just friends at that point--and to be honest, that's how I really like her. When we're romantically entangled, we're at our worst.

But . . . I wish I was the father. I think I could have done a good job. Not to denigrate the actual father, of course. That's not my place, and it's not my business. But if everyone else was right in their suspicions, I wouldn't have minded.

That relationship ended in a catastrophic fashion. I don't want to go into it here. Suffice it to say that my friend gave her daughter up for adoption, and the chances are very good that I'll never see her again.

That's definitely for the best. I know her adoptive parents, and they are great people. Her life is 100% better now.

But I'll miss her. Forever.

What the fuck are you doing, still reading this? It's past the witching hour. Shouldn't you be in bed?

Fine. I don't like to talk about this next part, because no one wants to hear it. But, here we go. This is your reward/punishment for getting this far. I'm not a joiner, and I don't do charities. However, Protect is not a charity. They're a lobby group for the protection of children. I am a member, and I urge you to join us. These guys actually help abused children. They're so good that they've changed laws. They are true warriors, and I wish I could give them more.

Fuck. I'm such a fucking softy when it comes to this column. Goodnight, fuckers.

Can I say "fuck" any more than I already do? I don't think so. But to quote a great shirt, "Fuck you, you fucking fuck."

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