Congratulations, you’re a DAD

Okay, so legally speaking I have been a Dad for over ten years. Most of that time it has not felt like such. More like a third wheel as the night club is closing.

I am a Dad.

My kid was due to go to a birthday party tomorrow – which is fine, other than it falls during the time she is supposed to be with me – but her Mum just text saying that “due to bad behaviour, she is not going. Will drop her at your place 10am instead.”

Hell.

I replied with something along the lines of “she is a good person really, feel free to contact me any time you like if that would be any use at all.

She has not contacted. Yet.

This is becoming a real Dad. New Zealand family court style.

Another real Dad thing…

Her football (soccer) club has asked me to be coach for her team. 

They have only seen me play with the kids and teach them some things. They have not seen the few days in hospital required to recover. I will be a good coach.

Promise.

Am betting the relationship with my daughter on it.

 

This is an example of living a life more ordinary.

And it has a funny side effect. Proud of self. Genuine happiness with ones abilities. The fact that people are seeing me for me, not whom or what the rumours and drugs have told them to think.

Hope they see a coach with some knowledge, some caring and some real benefit to the fun and skill set of club members.

This is boring. This is great and exciting. This is something all real males have wanted to do since they worked out what their cocks are for.

Am becoming a real Dad.

Identifying as an addict and getting NA tattooed on my body where all the football parents can see it?

I am betting the relationship with my daughter on being a boring, somewhat predictable and occasionally impressive adult.

This bet would be not possible in the throws of addiction. It may be possible with a half broken back.

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