For Sons of Absent Fathers

It's kind of my father's fault that dating me, for some, has been so exhausting. Not really, but kinda, lol.  I mean, even in his absence, he masterminded a one-sided game of crushing my efforts toward creating that father-son bond of which I dreamed and worked for daily.  I spent nearly 40 years trying to convince him that I was, indeed, as safe to love as Mr. Softy ice cream on humid Baltimore summer afternoons. And like a soldier, bloody, but unbowed, I nursed the wounds of his tactical ostracization. I became the parent, modeling fatherly behaviors with great hopes that he'd get the lessons and, perhaps, love me as much as he did heroin and cocaine. I repeatedly forgave him, from that time he told me in front of my sisters that I wasn't his son, to the time he said, "Nigga, I told you you ain't my mf'ing son ," as I merely tried to share the good news that I had earned my driver's license the day before. I worked my ass off...