A warning that this may be a post that has some seriousness to it. I have recently realised, after many years, that I am not a father. It has been an incredibly tough thing to realise and I want my children to realise that I fought harder and longer than they will ever know to try to remedy this situation, sadly the law sides with the breasts in these matters.
I am on record for saying that the apology that I truly owe both of my gorgeous children is the terrible choice that I made in their mother, never could there have been a better advert for enforced sterilisation. I need to make clear that I was not the cause of my marriage ending and neither was I the reason that contact with my children drifted.
To this day I would crawl over any and every type of broken glass to spend time with the beautiful children that I have been blessed with but, as so many men, I am tasked with simply funding the homestead a cheque book rather than a person. As a grown man it hurts me more than any other pain that my children don’t know me anymore than I know them.
The scars of my vasectomy are testament to the total betrayal that having children can bring to the male of our species in the modern world. I am jealous of the guys sat in the pub getting requests for money because they have a level of contact that I can only dream of. If anybody who reads this has a daughter then teach them one thing that can (and would) change the world: Dads are parents to.