I am not a daddy's girl as far as the usual use of the term goes.
My dad does not think that I am his precious princess and that no one is good enough for me.
In fact he thinks I am opinionated and bossy and his sympathies have almost invariably been with my boyfriends.
He doesn't think I am his beautiful baby girl either.
The closest I've ever got to a compliment from him was, and referring to me and my two siblings, "you're not a bad looking lot really".
And we had a hellish time when I was a teenager. He just couldn't figure out why I wasn't remotely afraid of him, even though he's almost a foot taller than me.
Nothing personal dad, I just don't scare easy.
I've challenged his perceptions over the years in a way that my siblings haven't. He didn't expect me to out earn the rest of the family put together, nor did he expect me to move to LA or NY. He wasn't exactly anticipating mixed race grand kids either, although he couldn't love them more if he tried.
Since I've had those kids though, we've kinda got into a groove and we just get along. He's funny. We share a sick sense of humour.
And today he had major surgery to have his stomach removed, which is why I am in England.
I wasn't sure whether or not to come - the kids and I will be here at Christmas after all.
So, I asked him: "dad, are you planning to die on the operating table?". He laughed. "I can't say I am planning to, but I'll buy your ticket so you can be here in case".
We understand each other.
The best thing about my dad is that he knows stuff. He's one of these people that reads the newspaper and absorbs and remembers most of what he's read.
"Dad, could you explain the origins of the Arab/Israeli conflict"
"Dad, I want to move a load bearing wall in my house. How do I do it?"
"Dad, what time of year do I cut back the rhododendron?"
Before the Internet, I had questions for my dad a couple times a week. But even though I can find all the things he knows on the Internet, I like to ask him. I like that he just knows.
And that's what makes me a daddy's girl.
I am distrustful of men that can't build stuff. Or fix stuff. Or ones that won't get their hands dirty.
I am bright and resourceful, but was at school in England in the progressive "silly 70's" and my general knowledge is a testament to that - my grasp of geography and history is appalling and I barely know an acronym from my elbow. I need a man that has facts at his disposal. I don't need the emotional repression or the inability to express feelings that is common in my dad's generation, but I do need a big strong capable man in my life.
So, I am inordinately glad that my dad, surgery risk that he is, made it through today. I am sitting in the hospital cafeteria with my brother, waiting to go see him in recovery. Have an equally relief filled day if you can.
The obligatory back catalogue:
I need a Frenchman
What I want
The Fart Edition
Fisting and small snatches
How bloggers date
Did he die?
Je t'adore
Zeitgeisty's Behaviour
Rate my Profile
My kink is better than your kink
The good the bad and the ugly
I am a whore
First Date sex?
Small Juicy Ones
The Perfect Blowjob
What is a boyfriend
Friends with Benefits
Real Women
Another quick pull out
Lesbian Lovers Come Out
Digits
Asymmetrical Knobbage
Cunning Linguist
Cunnilingus
Fabulous at 40
Winehouse Reveals
The Chick Facial File
Mirrors
Confession plus Daily Knob!
Abusive?
Celebrity Confessions: Boy George
Dick Trilogy Part 3
MORE dicks in my inbox
Dicks in your inbox
Read my Sodding Profile!
Hooksexup Confessions: Herpes
The Queen Confesses
The Arse Man Cometh
The Ass Play Chronicles
The Sandwich Blowjob Porn Connection
Bangin Ass
Deformed Dicks
Did I really dream that?
Why I don't date Celebrities
Fashionably late or just a slacker
As you can see from the shape and size of his ball(s), Danny Cipriani plays rugby. (That's an English game you daft lot) By all accounts he's a tough tackler.
