A lot of great men out there have earned the title of father. But that title does not necessarily belong to the guy who was there nine months prior to my birth. For those men, I say we need a separate holiday called Sperm Donor Appreciation Day.
When I think of a father, I think of the man who bought me a padlock when I moved into my room on Beech Street. I think of the man who did not once ask me to lower my voice or stop talking on a sixteen hour drive to and from Alabama and I did talk, nonstop. I think of the man who insisted that my brothers and I be present in the room when he gave my mother his own mother’s wedding ring.
Admittedly, I don’t know the side of the story of the man who contributed his chromosomes and nothing else to bring me into the world. But I don’t care anymore and although life has been anything but a smooth ride, I got this far without him. He is no more my father than an assembly worker at Apple is the inventor of the iPhone. I don’t resent him but I also don’t give him any of the credit.
Happy Father’s Day to the men who actually deserve it. If all you did was fuck someone and create a child, then Happy Sperm Donor Appreciation Day. It will be a thing, I promise.