Ken meets… the baby…

All my life, people have said to me that I’d make a good father one day. This was usually said by parents. They’d hold their kids far out of my reach and say, “Don’t worry, Ken. You’ll make a great father one day.” Okay, maybe they wouldn’t hold the kids out of reach but I did notice their sentiment always twinged with a hint of “Of course, I’m only telling you this because of how pathetic you look. How much longer are you going to wait, anyway?”

Kids have never really been a priority for me and, until Vicky came along, weren’t something I ever really thought would happen. But Vicky did come along and we got very serious about the whole thing, which is to say lots of fucking.

… But, no baby.

Recently, Vicky became an aunt and has been really enjoying aunt-li-hood-ed-ness…

We watched the little rugrat this past weekend for a couple of hours. Now, let me preface this by saying “Cutest Kid Ever”. Seriously, Vicky’s niece is just lovely. Okay?

We got in. The parents took off. And… wailing. Hours of wailing. The kid decided to hit us right upside the head with separation anxiety. “Where’s my momma? Where’s my god-damned mooma? WHERE THE FUCK IS MY FUCKING MOTHER,” the child seemed to want to know.

And I realized in the midst of all this that I missed my window for being a great father. I realized this because
And for Vicky, who was still holding out some hope of us having a child, this wasn’t exactly the best card I could have played. I did worse than just informing her that her husband wasn’t quite suited for parenthood; I also reminded her that things just don’t look good.

At this point, I did a little wailing of my own. On the inside. I hate disappointing Vicky more than anything else and really felt like I’d just crushed her dream. That night, she was reminded of what kind of guy she married: not the right one. This is not to say that we’ll split up but, rather, that relationships are often cast in sharp relief and we are sometimes a bit too harshly of the bad that comes with the good. It may not all be my fault but even if just one night was enough to make Vicky sad, well, that sucked.

Sometimes we don’t win. We don’t get what we want. Our dreams don’t come true. But I love you, Vic. And I’m sorry things haven't worked out the way we wanted them to. But I do love you.