Hallmark’s Gonna Need Some Bailout Money and It’s All My Fault

I got an email this afternoon from Dan in Vermont. He was the love of my late-twenties. His email read: “Happy Father’s Day to the Single Mom.”

See why I loved him?

Of course, at first I thought, That’s sweet. Then I thought, Crap! It’s Father’s Day.

This prompted a flurry of activity that included an email to my father in Israel – Just what is the time difference there?, an email to my buddy in North Carolina, and two texts – one to Josh and one to Email Buddy Eric. And I know I’m forgetting some people, but I’ll take my medicine next time I run into them.

These holidays do nothing except remind me how completely thoughtless I can be.

Let me tell you why.

These men in my life get absolutely nothing from me. They email me. They call me. They text me. They read my blog. They remember my birthday, which, okay, is kind of a gimme since it’s a holiday. Still, they take the time to let me know they remembered. And I have to be prompted. What’s worse is that I know Dan wasn’t “prompting” me. He was just being the wonderful person he is.

And I still haven’t watched the first season of “Breaking Bad” for him so that I can join the support group for addicts with him. And I haven’t emailed the pictures I promised to my friend in North Carolina. The ones that I promised were in the mail, oh, about six months ago. I only call Josh when I’m walking Dog. My father hasn’t seen me since Christmas. And EBE has to deal with me on an almost daily basis for which the only recompense he gets is that I amuse him in a way even he doesn’t fully understand. Like when I made the comment that my hair was looking rocking while I was staring at myself in the mirror the other day when we were working out. He just started laughing and lost count.

And, yet, they still love me.

I’m a complete shit.

Happy Father’s Day, Guys!

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