Who’s Your Daddy? Me??

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It’s as if an alien planted an evil brain seed in single women drawing them toward Daddy-like men. Based on the looks of utter “ew” I get when I brooch the subject with my make-pretend daughters, most of these women are also unaware they are afflicted.

You see, the clever alien, Bonadaddy, from the planet Poppalove (this is all verifiable Scientology shit, so don’t hate the celestial messenger) emailed me the curse he uses.

Ah, earth woman, so horribly maligned by your flawed father, I have come to heal thee. You must seek a similar beast immediately. No, not physically similar, you kinky bugger! He must be emotionally similar. Your quest, my love, is to lure him with your sexiness, then persuade him to cuddle and care for you, the way your father should have. Dead or alive, you’re not going to change your father, are you? You can’t undo emotional abandonment. This is the next best. If you are successful, you will be healed and released from the curse. If you are unsuccessful, well, there are more pops in the candy store. Yes, this will likely require that you sleep with him. Best to pause the fantasy at that point, or you’ll be fucked up to the point of requiring drugs I can’t prescribe. Now, go! Healist thy emotional scars.

I’m willing to play the Daddy role because I’m nice and like to please people. (Single and horny.) You see, though, that evil alien is so devious, that he has also infected me. My curse is that, like most fathers, I am unchangeable. Worse, though, I’ll insist that I am flexible. I claim (while wondering how this shit even comes out of my mouth) that I may be willing to do any of the following:

  • Get married … again.
  • Raise children.
  • Go camping.
  • Take yoga classes.
  • Drink Chardonnay.
  • Move her and her dog(s) in.
  • Attend church.
  • Run anything between a 5K and a marathon.
  • Spend $10,000 on a stone.
  • Do anything that begins with “Couples.”

“You know, Phil, I really want to raise a family.”

“Aw, me too!”

“Didn’t you tell me you had a vasectomy?”

“Yes, yes I did. It can be reversed, you know.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course! I would do anything for my love.”

“Aw.”

At this point, the alien is slapping his forehead, and Instagramming the video of my performance to all his buddies with the caption, “What a maroon!”

Motherfucker.

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About the author

Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.