I’ll eat that 12oz sirloin and wash it down with beer and whiskey every night. Just so someone doesn’t call me gay. Doesn’t matter how many dudes I fuck in the ass!
I will poop while also screaming like a true man. Real men poop and scream at the same time. I’ll be a real man… pooping and screaming… yeah… yeah I like that. I like that a lot.
You know I really question how many children are gonna grow up in the world basically fatherless, or with an absent father, because there’s this idea that the man has to be the one sacking everything they have in order to “put food on the table”. Gone for most of the day, devoid of energy when they come home, meat on the chopping block. I wonder how many kids would pick a better house, brand name foods, more toys, over more time spent with their dad.
This was my dad growing up. (Although my mom worked a lot at her job, too.) He’s since expressed his regret over it, and the sad thing is that at the time we were all perfectly happy for him to work all the time because he was just such a difficult person. But now that he’s retired and had a chance to breathe and heal, he is such a different person and I love spending time with him. We are both cantankerous weirdos with ADHD, and our weekends together are often spent doing projects, losing track of half our tools, and then comparing stories about the dumbest things our impaired attention span has caused us to do.
I will work 12hr days and sacrifice my health for my family. Toxic maybe, but my duty as a man.
I’ll eat that 12oz sirloin and wash it down with beer and whiskey every night. Just so someone doesn’t call me gay. Doesn’t matter how many dudes I fuck in the ass!
Get that umbrella away from me faaaag.
Wow
I will poop while also screaming like a true man. Real men poop and scream at the same time. I’ll be a real man… pooping and screaming… yeah… yeah I like that. I like that a lot.
You know I really question how many children are gonna grow up in the world basically fatherless, or with an absent father, because there’s this idea that the man has to be the one sacking everything they have in order to “put food on the table”. Gone for most of the day, devoid of energy when they come home, meat on the chopping block. I wonder how many kids would pick a better house, brand name foods, more toys, over more time spent with their dad.
This was my dad growing up. (Although my mom worked a lot at her job, too.) He’s since expressed his regret over it, and the sad thing is that at the time we were all perfectly happy for him to work all the time because he was just such a difficult person. But now that he’s retired and had a chance to breathe and heal, he is such a different person and I love spending time with him. We are both cantankerous weirdos with ADHD, and our weekends together are often spent doing projects, losing track of half our tools, and then comparing stories about the dumbest things our impaired attention span has caused us to do.
Basically, he just needed a chance to be HUMAN.
That was a beautiful ending in its own way :)