Sorry, it’s difficult to type right now because I just saw a commercial where a puppy becomes friends with a horse and I can’t stop crying. If you showed me that ad before I had kids, I’d punch you in the face but becoming a dad turns you into a total fucking homo.
It’s not just commercials that make you bawl your eyes out. Anything sentimental at all will do the trick. You know those videos where a soldier surprises his kid by coming home early? I’ve never made it through one without collapsing on the floor in a heaving pile of sobs. The same happens when they get their Christmas spirit back in Elf or the kids show up at Jack Black’s house at the end of School of Rock. Anything that involves people coming together to help one another is like a gut punch to the tear ducts. You know that video where the kid tells that drill sergeant he doesn’t have a dad? I can’t even describe it to people without my voice breaking. It’s like becoming a father takes a layer of skin off and all of a sudden you feel everyone’s pain. There is probably a very spiritual reason for this that has to do with a deep-seated connection with humanity but I don’t care. I’m a fucking fag.
If teenage me saw my life through a crystal ball he would wonder where my husband was. Every day is gay pride day at our home. Dance parties are perfectly normal here. Now, you can’t listen to Napalm Death because it scares the kids and ghetto rap has too many n-words so that leaves top 10 pop. It’s healthy for kids to dance so you’re not going to discourage it but they don’t know any moves so that means you have to dance with them and show them moves that are appropriate for a little girl to do. The next thing you know, you’re gyrating your hips to Katy Perry and screaming, “Are you ready for, ready for / A perfect storm, perfect storm?”
This level of faggotry has crept into pretty much every part of my day. Kids don’t like going to the barber so that means the adult with the steadiest hand and best precision ends up cutting their hair. Cut hair long enough and you catch yourself saying, “You know what would be cute? What if we grew out your bangs and then put the sides up like this?”
You also have to dress them and Stockholm Syndrome rears its ugly head there too. You can’t put on three people’s pants every single day without starting to think about color options and overall looks. My daughter’s look is kind of a Punky Brewster thing and I’ve got one son doing a bad boy John Cena look while another is just focusing on colors that pop.
It’s like you become queer by default. I was never into gossip but getting up at 6AM means you can’t go out with the guys late at night and that means you tend to stay in. The kids don’t like it when you ignore them so you either wrestle, dance, or talk to them about their day AKA gossip. “Hey Dad, Sarah’s parents are getting divorced” is so exciting I have to bite my lip so my shrieking doesn’t scare them away. You have to coax kids to gossip but if you remain calm and feign disinterest you can get some of the juiciest goss ever! Like, EVER!
I used to be cool. I used to be a tough. I used to fight Nazi skinheads and play in a band and get kicked out of school for drugs. I used to get so laid, I had every STD in the book but AIDS. Now I am AIDS. I cry at puppies, assemble looks, try new hairdos, dish, and dance like a girl to the gayest music you’ve ever heard. I’m a complete fucking fag and I think I like it.