..is creeping upon us. My kid was asking what we would do for Father's Day. I said we'd send a text message to Dad. Kid asked why couldn't we send a card. Because we don't have his address, I wanted to say, but bit my lip.
He came to see us this week. Stayed one night. Kid was happy but melancholic, too. Confided in me that daddies are meant to live in the same house as mummies and children. 'In an ideal world,' I replied. 'There are many children whose parents are living far from each other.' (A paltry excuse, I know.)
I broke in tears when he was here. We may not have sexual relations or even BDSM relations (after the last impromptu session detailed in the Bitch Goddess) but I care about him and I enjoy his company even if sometimes it is so frustrating to be with him. I feel lonely without him. I feel insecure. The whole world is resting on my shoulders and it is nice when he is around and can carry a bit of the weight.
'Please touch me,' I begged him, 'nobody touches me any more. My skin craves the healing human touch!'
When I was a pro, men came to me with their problems and I offered them a safe place to let their guard down and be vulnerable. I hugged them and stroked their hair and face and spoke to them with a soft, soothing voice and they knew they were safe and loved. You could feel the tension leaving their bodies as effortlessly as the sigh they let out the moment my hands made contact with their body. Nobody touches me nowadays... except for customs officials at airports.
Anyway, Daddy, if you are reading this, happy Father's Day to you. You may not be the best father in the world, but you are the only one we got and for that you are precious.
Happy Father's Day everyone!
