“Daddy, are you lonely?”
Kissing scenes on screen are something that grosses out my daughter. She lets out a disgusting ewwwwwk, looks at me, winces her face and then bursts out laughing. She’s even teased about how mommy and daddy used to do this and that is just weird! And as much as I keep my private love life away from my daughter, she asks me all sorts of questions about what I do with my time when she’s not with me. But unlike mom’s boyfriend, she never sees me with a girlfriend and assumes I don’t have one. Then she asks me, “Daddy, are you lonely?” Wow! Some of her questions are remarkably candid and mature.
I’m no relationship expert by any stretch of the imagination. I leave behind a wake of ex-girlfriends, a failed marriage and meaningless nights. At one point in my life, I was referred to as the serial-dater. I’m not particularly proud of it, but my past isn’t something I bury. Yet I’m also not prepared to discuss these very adult situations with my daughter. But I realize merely brushing off these questions will have little effect as I know that before long, hormones are going to start leaking from her pores and I will need to be more candid about human relations. So in an equally candid retort, I asked my daughter, I thought you said daddy can’t remarry? You were also very protective of daddy at that baseball game, too. What’s changed? “Nothing, you still can’t be with anyone.” I see. So mommy can have a boyfriend but daddy can’t have a girlfriend. “That’s right.” That doesn’t sound very fair. “Life’s not and I don’t want you to leave me, daddy.” I smiled and thought: now the truth comes out.
I think my daughter’s question represented a level of maturity and sympathy but was asked bluntly behind fear and innocence.
The reality is that I’m indifferent to having a significant other. I look at some of my happily married guys friends and wish I can have what they have. I also look at some of my miserably married guys friends and am glad for being single. I look at how successful co-parenting can really bring balance and fulfillment not just for the children. I also see how my own unsuccessful co-parenting situation has brought conflict and resentment and the only way out is to parent separately. I do very much enjoy adult company, but don’t feel I need to get it at the expense of other pursuits. And in my current stage of life, I’m only concerned about five little bundles of responsibilities: health, wealth, family, work and recreation—and in that order.
My health and that of my daughter’s are my primary concerns. It’s no different than satisfying the base requirements according to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs: without basic physiological and safety needs, everything else is irrelevant. Then comes wealth, especially in our money focused society. I do my best to ensure I make more money than I spend and save for a rainy day. For the long term, I make certain we have a roof over our heads and have enough money for both of us for now and in the future. Now, belongingness and esteem can be relevant. Family is my strength and my daughter’s grounding. It’s not just our family of two, but the entire extended family and friends. Of these three bundles of responsibilities, half my time and energy has already been consumed and none have involved or require the optional significant other. That would be nice and it would lighten the load, but not a prerequisite. How can I be lonely with all this going on already, I thought but didn’t say to my daughter.
The fourth major responsibility is that of my work. This includes career development and my next stepping stone into an ever perplexing maze of career decisions. It also includes my daughter’s work as her job is to do well at school and all her extracurricular activities. Especially at a time of social distancing and reliance upon digital curriculum, I spend even more time helping with lessons and homework. But all work and no play make everybody dull and miserable so whatever time remains is allocated toward recreation. Be it, travel, TV, games, it’s time to do whatever we want or nothing at all.
As I let out a long, long sigh and reflected on the activities in my life which I have compartmentalized, my eventual and brief reply to my daughter’s question was, ‘No sweetheart, daddy’s not lonely. In fact, I’m very busy and already very social.’ She believes it. I think my daughter’s question represented a level of maturity and sympathy but was asked bluntly behind fear and innocence. Then I ridiculed, ‘How can I be lonely with you around? Besides, who’s going to cook grass-fed beef so you can stay on your vegetarian diet?’ She paused for a second, hugged me and then said, “I’m glad you’re not dating, daddy.” I hugged her back but couldn’t deny a sense of melancholy building inside me.
