Month: August 2022 (Page 4 of 5)

This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

Son, I’m back from the barber shop. I asked them to dye my beard gray, just like You said. I think it turned out pretty nice, but I know my opinion doesn’t matter. What do You think of the dye job, Son? 

Not gray enough? Are You sure, Son? Looks pretty gray to me. I look plenty older than You now. No one would suspect that W/we’re only nine years apart. 

Older, Son? You want me to go older? How much older? Erm, with all due respect, Son, I think I easily look 20 years Your senior. Definitely Your bearded old man, Son. Of course I am more than happy to do anything that pleases You, Son, but what more can I do to look older? 

This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

What am I looking at, Son? Who’s this a picture of? I don’t recognize him. 

It’s me? No way, Son. That’s crazy! He doesn’t look anything like me. He’s so small and young. Not an ounce of beef on him. And what’s with that haircut? Never seen anything like that, Son. What do you even call that? A fo-what? A fauxhawk? I guess that’s what the kids are doing these days. 

Now that you mention it, Son, I guess there is a little bit of a resemblance. This guy on your phone has my eyes, my nose. Maybe the forehead looks similar. Are you kidding me, Son? Playing a joke on Your old dad? 

This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

My police buddies started calling me fat. I outgrew three sizes of uniforms and ultimately couldn’t complete the obstacle course in the required time. First warning, second warning, final warning—I just couldn’t seem to drop the excess weight and get back into shape for my job. Nineteen years on the force, only one year away from retirement, and I got canned. Weirdly enough, losing my job wasn’t the scariest part. I was more scared about how my Son would take the news. 

He was so understanding. “Don’t worry, Dad,” He said. “I’ll find you a job in no time.” Then He put His arms around my belly and pulled me into a tight bear hug. Every concern I had melted away. Six months ago, back when my Son was just my boyfriend, He told me that when I became His dad, I’d never have to worry about anything ever again. 

This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

I still remember my old life. Sometimes I wish I didn’t, but that’s the way my Son wants it to be. He likes knowing that all my memories and intelligence are trapped inside this big, dumb body, wanting to get out but unable to. Every morning when I wake up before dawn and lay out His clothes for the day, I stop and think to myself, “What would I be doing right now if I’d never met Him?” 

I was a physicist, for Pete’s sake, tenured faculty at my university, just hitting my stride,  career wise. Another 10 or so years on this trajectory and I’d have earned myself a long, comfortable retirement. 

This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

I thought it was weird when my boyfriend told me I should switch back from contacts to glasses. We’d been dating for a few months, and he made little recommendations like that all the time. I just chalked it up to generational differences. I’d never dated a guy young enough to be my son before, and I didn’t think much of it. When he brought home a pair of glasses for me to try on, I just went along with it. Hey, if it’s what the young people are wearing these days, might as well make the boyfriend happy, right? 

I can’t remember clearly when things started to change. I started getting… I don’t know, confused, I guess? Making mistakes at work, losing my way on the drive home. My boyfriend was so understanding. He said my glasses probably just needed a stronger prescription. He got me another pair. And then another. And another. I stopped wearing contacts altogether. Wearing my boyfriend’s glasses made me feel happy. Hip. Cool. Young.