Thinking too much…

Lin’s cousin Cindy got married Saturday night. We were at the wedding. I spent too much time thinking about the preacher’s misogyny and whether or not Lin and I were too visibly queer. I don’t know Greg (the new husband)’s family (they’re catholic) and I didn’t want to upset anyone… so I asked Lin’s aunt Lynn (mother of the bride) if it would be okay if Lin and I danced. She said yes, so we did. But only in the corner where few people would notice. I’m sure they noticed, but mostly people are too polite to talk about such things. We managed not to embarrass Lin’s mother.

But I really started thinking too much during the father-daughter dance. Then I read Gregoire’s post this morning and really started thinking too much. As they danced to “I loved her first,” I started thinking about how I had envisioned my own wedding when I was a kid. Sometimes I wish for a father figure – or a father, in general. There’s something romantic about the notion of having a father to protect and guide you. I probably would have fought with one a lot because I’m super-independent and always have been, but I still romanticize this notion of father. The father figures I had either beat me or molested me or both. They’re not good people.

I like Lin’s dad. I call him dad. I mean it in a lot of ways. I don’t know how he feels about it, but Rob seems too impersonal. I think I’ve adopted him whether he likes it or not. We talk about politics and he cares about our future together. He asks how school is going and I believe he sincerely cares when he asks. He believes in equality and fairness and justice. He may vote Republican, but he’s as liberal a Republican as we’ll ever find. He believes in the ideals I want to teach my children. He believes in some of the same ideals I want them to have, anyway. Wait, Lin and I have decided on only one child (who already has a name), so scratch children and replace it with child.

And I was reading Gregoire’s post and thinking about the ideal father-type I’ve always had in my head. Little girls have daddies, and I wanted one of my own when i was little. I tried to turn the molester and the beater into father figures, but they weren’t cut from that kind of cloth – and I sincerely hope someone burns that pattern.
In the end, here’s what I’ve always wanted for myself: A feminist father who hugs me when I cry and discusses the state of the American healthcare system at the breakfast table. A discussion that takes long enough to make us late for the rest of the day.

That’s what happened with Lin’s dad yesterday – except the crying part. I don’t think he claims the F word, either, but I know he holds onto those ideals of fairness and equality. He also wishes Lin and I could be legally married (or something that gave us those benefits) because he wishes we were recognized by the government. He doesn’t care much about the religious stuff. Lin’s Mom struggles more with that.

I don’t know what I’m thinking really… just that there’s a lot floating around in my head. And I feel a little embarrassed about crying during someone else’s father-daughter dance.

5 Responses to “Thinking too much…”
  1. Grégoire says:

    You get two shots at childhood. The first you can’t control. When you have kids of your own, then you can engineer it yourself.

    My father, like yours, was a right brutal bastard. After my mother left him, I got raped in her house repeatedly and by various different family members and friends of hers. She punished me for it. That was between first and fourth grades, roughly.

    I had the ideal father in my head. I read Adler and Fromm and Dr. Spock.

    My daughter has a scar on her hand from touching the stove at age two. She got such a horrible burn (it charred right down to the bone at the time) because I never spanked her the first time.

    I did spank my daughter once after she got burned. It was for putting her finger into the electrical outlet. By that time it was too old to hurt, but she was shocked that I had actually spanked her (I left discipline to her mom).

    When she got into school she did well but has had various minor behavioral issues. Her teachers tell me she’s “raised like an only child” (a/k/a spoiled). When she was in elementary school she would just get up and leave the classroom when she was bored, to go wander the halls. She never understood the structure of it all (she’d never been to daycare). To some extent she still doesn’t.

    She has never cleaned her room in her life. Until recently I just did it myself. She’s fourteen now and I don’t even dare go in there most of the time. She’s got a cat living in there, which is nice because if she didn’t we’d surely have a roach or rat problem.

    In ten years she’ll be the age I was when I bought my first house. I shudder to think of the state it’ll fall into immediately. She does very well in school (she consistently ranks at the top of her class) which gives me hope that she’ll be able to afford a maid, or she’ll be able to support a husband who will have to stay home full time and pick the place up after her.

    We’ve certainly had a good time together, and she’s never crossed certain lines (never been any drugs, cigarettes, sexual misbehavior, or street crime) but I could have done a few things differently.

    Someday you and Lin might have a kid. Don’t do what your parents did, but don’t swing too far in the opposite direction either.

  2. mirrabai says:

    hello, i was seeking to write smth in university for a bioethics and transgender paper i need to finish…soon and i have no clue
    by mistake somehow i found this blog
    and here i am ….reading and feeling with no apparent reason…ready to cry…..
    be well

  3. Grégoire says:

    We’re having like a blogversation here. I had to respond, just because I think you’re givin’ me waaaayyyyy too much credit, baby.

    hello, i was seeking to write smth in university for a bioethics and transgender paper i need to finish…soon and i have no clue
    by mistake somehow i found this blog
    and here i am ….reading and feeling with no apparent reason…ready to cry…..
    be well

    I don’t cry about it, so I hope nobody cries about *me*. Crying or feeling badly just gives the abusers a charge and makes them feel a sick thrill. When I was a little boy I learned that the best defiance was to laugh, instead of show that I’d been hurt. That really pissed ’em off, and made me laugh even harder!

    The best revenge is living well. I know that’s cliche, but it’s true. I don’t think about any of these losers any longer, except to chuckle at their own stupidity occasionally.

    Good luck on the paper. The TPQ blog is one of those hidden little fonts of specialized knowledge on arcane subjects that we sometimes stumble across while searching for java based video games or free swimsuit photos. I have no doubt it’ll come in handy. Check out the ‘queer as read’ section in this joint too. Lots of references.

  4. mirrabai says:

    my friend
    i wasnt really crying about anything specific
    i cry
    recently a lot
    my girlfriend wants to cut her breasts off thats fine with me
    she can do whatever
    i d love her even with a beard ….and hair all over
    i feel too dark- too cynical – to rough
    shes so soft and tender

    and i guess me being that way has to do with all those pain i got from childhood and later even till 27…ending up in hospitals ect

    so ….

    i just cryed probably bcs of myself
    and her taking every day a new step away from me …the monster….
    and finaly her leaving me….

    so i just cry recently all the time



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