Growing up, I was the sort of girl who had a varying array of nicknames for, not my sister, but my father. For example, I’d harp “Good one, Einstein” after he made, in my young eyes, a blatantly obvious comment. Or I’d give his soft, round stomach a little pat/punch and exclaim “Fat Boy” when he’d come home from work every night, kiss us on the heads and head right to the bag of Cheetos.
His typical response to my unprovoked barbs and jabs? He’d usually just chuckle it off – as his belly wiggled like Santa Claus.
No doubt about it. I was an original daddy’s girl. In all honesty, though, it was my father who should have had the last laugh. Over summer vacation in California a few years ago, as my family and I sat on the hotel balcony overlooking the San Diego skyline, we came across an article in the newspaper. The article described a new and evolved breed of man. The metrosexual. That’s what experts of the day called it. This man – think Frasier or Niles Crane – was so comfortable in his manly skin that he has no shame in indulging in the finer things and letting his feminine side roar. I dug up these tell-tale signs of the new-age metrosexual:
• They love to shop with their gal pals
• They buy and use skin-care cream
• He’s religiously glued to shows like “The OC” and “Sex & The City”
And yet I couldn’t help but muse: Wasn’t that a near-perfect description of my father some 10 years ago? Was he not the first undocumented metrosexual, forming a mold for generations to follow?
MORE JUICE AFTER THE JUMP…
A lot of my girlfriends bonded with their fathers in the “traditional” ways. I’d heard the stories: working on the family car, making a kite or model airplane, throwing the baseball around the field and running the bases.
Well, seeing as my father never owned a baseball (as far as I know) and my mother, like all good mothers do, was in charge of our car and took it to the dealership the second any little thing seemed out of the ordinary, tradition was never really our thing.
Frankly, it never seemed to bother my father or me. It never bothered us during our trips to the mall, for example, when we’d walk up and down each corridor and “ooh” and “ahhh” at the pretty outfits in the window or when we’d laugh as we browsed the selection of celebrity magazines in the bookstore. Like the proper shopping partner that he was, my father of course lugged my many bags of loot for me – and even treated me to a soda in the food court.
Metrosexual trait No. 1. Check.
It never bothered us (well, most of us) when we’d be waiting in the car, already late for a family function, while my father had just stepped out of the shower after a 30-minute lather-and-rinse session in which he probably used our girlie shampoo and then proceeded to dry between every single toe after he got out (Who does that?). Nevermind that his favorite phrase was “Oh, you’d better put some salve on that” and had a cream for everything imaginable.
Metrosexual trait No. 2. Check.
And it certainly never bothered us (especially me) when we’d curl up on a Wednesday night and watched as Dawson desperately tried to woo Joey away from Pacey on “Dawson’s Creek,” or when my dad then tried to woo my mother by using the same lines he heard Dawson utter just minutes before. And ironically, we never thought it the least bit odd when he casually sat down (with his Cheetos, of course) to watch Carrie and company strut through love, life and the streets of Manhattan. I’m sure if he were alive when it premiered, he would have been riveted by “The OC” rich kids too.
Metrosexual trait No. 3. Check.
So what grand social statement am I trying to make? Fathers don’t always come in the cookie-cutter, stereotypical package; contrary to the popular myth, there is no such thing as a father factory or the father stork. No two fathers are exactly alike, but they ultimately do have the same goal in mind: to spend time with you. In any way, shape or form. Whether that involves a day of girly indulgence, it doesn’t matter. He gets to be with you, talk with you, listen to you and hopefully laugh with you.
Maybe that’s not really such a grand statement after all.
You’re a bit early for honoring Father’s Day, as Father’s Day falls in June.
Miss Matched says
Who says you can’t honor Father’s Day year-round? There’s no designated day for stupid people, but we honor you, don’t we?
We are not the same person. Also, I think you deleting comments you disagree with speaks to the fact that you have received very little criticism for your work in general. Why delete it? This is a blog on the internet, open to the public. Anyone should be able to post whatever they like in response. I could understand if the posts were outright insulting, but that has not been the case. Even the first post, which I made, was not intended to be insulting and rather a call for you to be honest with yourself.
You have created a love and romance advice blog and have little to no experience with either. I am not saying your position is invalid. To the contrary, your actual story, the story of how it feels to be someone in your position, could be very interesting. However, instead of expressing that, you seem to merely parrot romantic comedies and cosmo like magazines. Your idea of romance, your outmoded sense of gender politics, all of it seems to stem from a pop culture idea of what love and romance are, rather than reality.
As for why I am posting anonymously, that should be obvious. Emotions run high when it comes to issues such as disability, and the response to my first post should be a clear indicator as to why I haven’t shared my identity. People responded to my post, which was not insulting, with insults in return. In addition I was misquoted. I never used the words “Repulsive deformity.” One unintended side effect of posting anonymously, is that it gives you the ability to write me off entirely without actually reacting to me, by calling me names and questioning my own experience and attitudes regarding romance.
You will delete this as well, without reacting to it. However, I feel entitled to express my opinion of this blog, your writing and yourself. That is the reality of the internet.
Kara Giudice says
I think our dad’s are a lot alike. He would do all that with my sister and me. I think when Mark and I finally do have kids, that’s the kind of father he will be. What good sports the men in our lives are 😀
Miss Matched says
Hi Kara! Nice to hear from you!!!!