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.

The other day, I saw a gay couple walking downtown. They were really cute. Just an everyday pair of guys dressed in jeans and polos, holding hands as they walked from the parking garage to a restaurant down the block. 

Heh. Jeans and polos. It’s been so long since I’ve worn anything like that, I can’t even remember what it feels like. Loose-fitting clothing? Yeah, that’s barely a memory for me. Once I’d earned enough money for my Son to buy me my first rubber uniform, the rest of my clothes started disappearing from my side of the closet. 

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.

“Is this the place, babe?” 

I looked out the car window. Through the streaks of rain on the glass, I saw a rundown storefront at the end of a dying strip mall. The windows were papered over and the signage long gone, but ghosts of the lettering were barely visible above the door. An old furniture showroom, maybe? 

My boyfriend Scott grasped my thigh, giving it a firm squeeze, and then killed the engine. “This is it.” 

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.