AuthorTeevee

So a few months ago, I did something about it. I asked my ex-wife's husband to meet me, man to man, face to face.

I have no degrees.

I do have certifications. One of them took me almost ten years and several attempts to finish. A Degree in Funny. Improv comedy.

Years ago, when I was determined to be the best dancer possible, I would go to a regular dance social on Thursday nights in Dallas.

I wanted to improve so bad.

At any given moment, I am the villain in at least three or four people's stories.

That used to sadden me.

My daughter had just told me she was pregnant.

Her boyfriend beside her, holding her. Carla in the room. And my baby girl, looking at me, waiting to see who her father was going to be in that moment.

For years, when laying our sleepy heads, I whisper in her ear:
Thank you for choosing me, again, today.
Then she echoes: thank you for choosing me.

This past weekend my bonus daughter asked me to officiate her wedding.

The third young woman walked off the stage and I did the math.

I looked to my left. I looked to my right.

My biggest discovery? I have always been a writer and a poet. I just forgot over the years.

There’s a personality type I avoid like a ‘We need to talk’ text.
High-energy. Overpromising. Charismatic.
Male. Female. Doesn’t matter.

All my life, I’ve been afraid to share my joy. My corny personality.
But that’s how I’m wired.
That’s how I show up in the real world. So I’ve decided to share those parts anyway. Even more now that I’m old AF and give fewer effs.