What exactly is it with the Recycle Bin on my desktop? And why is it that every time I go to empty it, I accidentally delete it? And why is it that when I go to search for it in my computer, it says ‘no results found?’ And why is my computer trying so hard to protect the location of my recycle bin? Makes me think there’s something shady going on behind my back. ..All of this recycle bin talk makes me think of daddy issues. I’m not exactly sure how my brain draws correlations like this, but lucky for you it does… or this entire blog would be about the quest to locate my recycle bin. And even I couldn’t be mildly entertained by that.
I think it’s a fair assumption to say that all signs point to the fact I was probably supposed to be a boy. In fact, I don’t know how I ever ended up wearing makeup or having a non-butch haircut, but miracles do happen. It all started when my parents moved to the middle of nowhere and the only kid my age was a boy named Christian. For more on that experience, go here. So I grew up doing boyish things, which I think had alot to do with the fact that my dad tried to make me into a boy by subtly sabotaging my girlishness and preying upon my weaknesses.
Dad: Hey, wanna help me stack hay in the barn…. it’ll be real fun?
Me: Um. Not really…(Just about anything with my dad is fun when I was 7… but even then I knew that would totally blow chunks)
Dad: Afterward we’ll go get pizza and ice cream.
Me: Hand over the pitchfork.
[The next day…]
Dad: Hey, can you give mom and I a hand in transporting all these stones to the flower garden?
Me: Well…actually, I had big plans to ride my bike in about five minutes.
Dad: You can get some office supplies next time we go to the store.
Me: Hmm…that’s tempting, but I don’t know…
Dad: AND I’ll play school with you later. You can quiz me with spelling words on the chalkboard.
Me: Sigh. You know that’s an offer I can’t refuse. Where’s the gloves?
Some might say this was a mild form of child abuse. But I knew deep down I was just yet another girl with daddy issues, living the life of a victim. As I got older, I branched out into friendships with women, which I quickly realized were not nearly as carefree and easy going as my friendship had been with dear, sweet, uncomplicated Christian. It didn’t take me long to realize that “daddy issues” may possibly mean a whole lot more than being coerced into helping tear down a wall, or tiling a bathroom floor (my parents did a lot of remodeling okay?) This trying time in my life led to the statistic that 80% of my friends are now male.
With further analization I actually discovered that I didn’t have daddy issues in the same sense that most girls did. My dad wasn’t in the slammer, he was eating dinner with us every night. He didn’t lock himself in the den with a scowl on his face and refuse to play ‘childish games.’ He didn’t cut me down or give me a body image complex, in fact he was pretty fabulous. One day, it finally occurred to me. I was suffering from the absence of daddy issues.
But honestly, I don’t think there is enough attention given to the absence of daddy issues… It can cause some pretty big problems when it comes to dating:
Me: What are you talking about?!? So what you’re saying is, you don’t know how to replace my transmission with your eyes closed?
….You can’t build a doghouse out of an orange peel?
….Are you telling me that you have never built a gazebo from a scratch using only a pocketknife?
….You mean, you can’t explain to me for the fifteenth time how the electoral college works? This just isn’t going to work.
And so my life would continue, forever in shocking disappointment. All thanks to my dad.
I had to have long hair (cause girls should look like girls), couldn’t play baseball (cause girls join Girl Scouts and play piano), and was not allowed to drive the lawn mower (cause you have a brother, that’s why!). Those were my daddy issues. *sighs* Now my husband makes fun of me cause I throw like a girl, pull my hair up in a clippie knot, and have no idea where the starter is on the mower.
oh man nina… thats too bad. sounds like a bit of a stifling and girly childhood. haha. but hey, i’m sure you’ve got lots of good etiquette and stuff. hah.
lol the pics are soooooooooooooooooo cute!!!! and u only got better hehe (that is not a pick up line.. 😛 ). i can relate a little to the whole daddy wanting u to be a boy. My dad on weekends would e forever “maintaining” his cars. “susi spice, come here we are going to change the oil” but i wanna go ride my bike with the Santa Clara BMX bandits *whining child voice* “no, come here you need to learn this” “susi lets go change the break pads” “susi help me unclog the sink” etc etc.. “stop crying you are such a girl! be a man like me”i dont think my dad really realised what he was saying at that stage… and to this day i still dont know who to change the oil change a brake pad or unclog a sink or any of those things… it was all too traumatic for me, i just smiled nodded and got it over and done with so i could go ride my bike hehe.
haha. oh dearest susi… there are oceans between us, yet we are so alike.
yea i’m lucky there are even any pics of my entire childhood… considering my dad was too cheap to buy a video camera or anything. these were mostly taken by my grandma i assume
Oh, yes. I can sit in a dress (ankles crossed, right over left, girls), tell you exactly how to word invitations, and throw a bridal/baby shower with the best of ’em. I even have my own punch recipe. However, I can also muck a horsestall, climb trees, and out-cuss a sailor. I guess Mom wasn’t watching close enough! (Just call me Scarlett O’Hara.)
nina…scarlet…oh how i’m always in search of the perfect punch recipe.i hope some day that i can give my maybe-daughter non-daddy issues… i guess i have that to look forward to!
you better hope so kevo… cus if she has REAL daddy issues then she will end up settling for some loser who treats her like crap and live a sad meager existence. so make sure you are willing to spend many saturdays moving hay in the barn with her okay.
I had Daddy issues. With the Mailman, the Milkman, the Paperboy … Mom was a real whore so I was left guessing. Hallmark made a fortune off of me on Father’s Day. Blunt you are one funny woman which is why I’m spreading you all over Twitter as we speak.
Wow, that last statement sounds a lot more sexual the second time you read it doesn’t it?
haha. craig. craig… that was hilarious. always be assured that if you spread me all over twitter, i will return the favor! be on the lookout for some mad PROPS! p.s. sorry about the multiple daddy issues thing.
lol nina my mum tried to do that with me, “ladies do not cross their legs, people will think you are advertising”… now i cross my legs everywhere i go! until there is a engagement ring on my finger… always a little bit single lol
advertising? susi i’ve never ever heard that before?!? aren’t ladies supposed to cross their legs?
funny post. You are an anomaly now adays…a girl who likes her dad. That’s cool.
thanks buddy. yes, my dad is seriously cool, not one thing i would have changed.. i’ll post up a pic of him sometime for the world to see his awesomeness.
I think that hat is what gave Ashton Kutcher inspiration for his look.
seriously, what was up with that hat? its like i wore it everyday
No, Brit. You weren’t brought up in the south. Garden parties, hats in church on Sunday, fried chicken, bridal teas, and corsages on Mother’s Day. Trust me, ladies cross only their ankles. Too bad there aren’t any here!
Myself included. I usually cross my legs (in a mini, no less) before I remember. I’m always afraid Mom will lean up behind me and swat me! I still call my elders “Miss Clara” or “Miss Deb” cause of fear of my mother and grandmother! *sighs* I have Mom issues too.
haha, thats funny nina. i know you southerners are all about the manners, and it always sounds so funny to us – especially in chicago where we are quite crude. hah.
but, it would have been nice to grow up around so much fried chicken. sigh.
lol
Brit nina is right, ladies do not cross legs only ankles… *writing this as im crossing legs* hehe.
but i have another reason why not to cross legs too often, this could be a myth but ill go with it, crossing your legs too often too frequently increases your chances of getting varicose veins…
yes susi, i did know that. i went to a super strict school where we had to wear skirts, and so we were always crossing our legs. but now i never do cus i know it causes those ugly veins. gross.
I experienced almost the opposite. My dad frowned upon my fixation with Wonder Woman, gave me an incredible whuppin’ for playing hopscotch and jacks (giving me marbles instead, with no instructions. I promptly proceeded to lose my marbles.), and forbade me from hangin’ out too much at my grandma’s beauty shop.
Even with all of this, I’m proud to say, I still grew up abnormal and dysfunctional like the rest of us. Yay!
george, funny you mention wonder woman. my friends convinced me to dress up like her once for halloween – i honestly didn’t know who she was for a long time. i know. wipe the look of utter shock and despair off your face. anyway – i’ll post it sometime and write a blog about it. haha. pretty funny
Well at least it helped you develop criteria by which to hold other men to, which has
not worked out very well based on prior blogsworked out the best for you!And since your dad trained you how to do all of those things, you can now train the many guy friends you have to not be worthless.
haha. yes brandon i see your point. i think i dated worthless people, who deep down i always knew i wouldn’t end up with- cus i was scared of marriage.. if that makes any sort of sense, but it does in my twisted mind. of course, some of them appeared to be normal, to my credit. but in reality…i can only let it go so far if you don’t know how to hang a picture, i mean, come on.
This may be one of the greatest posts I’ve ever read. Might shoulda saved it for Father’s Day.
Awesome dad you’ve got there.
I remember changing my own oil in my boyfriend’s driveway, offering to teach him how. 😉
He’s my hubby now!
haah. thats funny pinky. i’ve found myself in that position several times…. i just have to realize everyone’s dad just isn’t as rockin as mine and give em a chance i guess 😉 i think on father’s day i’ll write a post about him and put up pics and stuff… it’ll be good.
HAHA – Pinky that is hilarious.
Brit – Maybe you could open up a training school to teach guys how to be better men. lol
jules… that just might be the best idea you’ve had yet. brit’s school for men:
1. how not to be a creeptown.
2. how to fix a toilet
No, no, no. I already offer a housebreaking service. But I would be happy to take on a partner!
Nina- what do you charge? ha
Just rights to the instructional video and 3 easy payments of $79.99! Example: “Don’t you know where the clothes hamper is? By God, it is not on top of the lampshade, let’s get that straight right now. Oh, those clothes you’re missing? Yeah, I’ve been throwing everything I found separated from its proper receptacle under the bed. I’d check there if I were you. Oh yeah, and there’s a diagram of proper toilet seat etiquette directly over the toilet and on the fridge, so I know you had to have seen it. No excuses! I’m not the only person who lives here, dammit! Get your ass up and load the dishwasher please, and it wouldn’t hurt you to hit the floor around the toilet with some 409 and a sponge, either. Thanks, sweetie!” This may sound like nagging at first, but trust me, it’s effective if only because they want to know where their clothes are and don’t want the toilet seat glued in the proper position. I threatened next time I found man-panties in the hallway, I’d bury them in the backyard.
i like those tactics nina. i mean seriously, why do they always try to say that it’s just “water” around the toilet from when they wash their hands? ugh, no. its pee. and seriously, why are the clothes always right next to the laundry basket? why do you have to make a basketball game out of it? you’re never gonna get it in, so just walk over and put it in. ahhh!
Don’t even get me started on the clothes next to the hamper. I threatened one day to put a neon sign over it reading: XXX 3 lapdances for one jumpshot! That wasn’t well received either, however, the hitting the hamper thing has marginally improved.
haha thats so funny. i just don’t get it nina. i just don’t.
oh sweetheart your a boy at heart aren’t you! that explains your whole phobia of being with one guy forever! thats why you have me…forever! muah darling!
yes, dana. yes i am. its a good thing you accept me.
Oh, y’all are so funny!
My tactic was a little different. I simply gave up.
I pick up my stuff and leave his. I couldn’t care less how many cereal bowls or dirty glasses he has on his nightstand. (yes, it’s gross.)
But then again, I’m no Martha Stewart.
His mother can’t. stand. me. 😉
Oh, and when he goes on his ‘guy’s weekend’? I don’t call him. Not once. The other guys get up to ten nagging calls on their cells from their wives. Not me. Nu uh. You leave me alone, I leave you alone. Capice?
i’m definately with you on that pinky. i need my space. its usually always been the other way around for me. the guy always calls me non stop “do you still love me” “whatcha doing?” oh well, the same thing i was doing 5 mins ago. AHHHH can’t handle neediness.
you sounds like a very intersting person, i’ll keep reading
thanks for your comment
another blog friend emailed me a copy of the manual so i can start to learn 🙂
i’m going to check out your photography now
thanks for stopping by chloe. yea, i don’t have my photog website up yet or any pictures i’ve taken. i’m working on getting that up soon. its a long process, but you’ll get there.
Hi from the SITStahood. I had a similar relationship with my dad. I can definitely relate.
tammy, thanks for stopping by! isn’t it great to actually have a cool dad.
SO thrilled I found your blog via SITS! I will definitely be back and I can’t wait to read some other posts!
I am thinking we might be sisters… because we might have the same Dad. I could have written your list of dating problems, except my Dad would have made a rabbit hutch out of an orange peel (I remember him making it for Liberace, our rabbit) Reading your thoughts made me smile and appreciate the Dad I have.
Thanks for the read!
What a beautiful baby!! Great pics.
Stopped by from sits…
hello momma… thanks for stopping by!! i guess i was alright. haha.
Pingback: So You're Telling Me You're Not MARRIED?! | Blunt Delivery
I LOVED Nina’s comment lmao. Another great blog entry Brit! I love it.
haha! i know, isn’t she hilarious
Pingback: Why I Hate Women: Oh Let Me Count The Ways | Blunt Delivery
Pingback: Here's The Thing About Men | Blunt Delivery
Pingback: Dear ESSENCE Magazine, | Blunt Delivery
Pingback: Problems? Why Yes, I Can Provide Those | Blunt Delivery
Pingback: Dad, You Look Like A Pencil With A Frizzy Top | Blunt Delivery
Pingback: That Time I Got Scammed Into Raising Effing Sheep | Blunt Delivery
Pingback: I Hate Women | Blunt Delivery
dude i know! having a well adjusted family and amazing parents can really fuck a girl up.
Pingback: Dear Life, At Last I’ve Got You All Figured Out
Pingback: Lessons In Awkwardness: Featuring My Dad