First Dance Goes to My Father

I love both my parents, but I share something unique with my dad. As a child, I thought every girl had a similar relationship with her dad as I did with mine. A few years and a thousand conversations later, and I realized this isn't the case. Instead, what I heard are tales of absent fathers or unhealthy relationships between fathers and daughters. Through most of these stories, even when a strong bond existed with their mothers, I still heard a yearning for that healthy connection with their dads. 

I have come across a few women whose relationships with their fathers are comparable to mine. They, like me, intertwine dad into their conversations, reflecting on him as friend, adviser, biggest fan, sincerest critic, voice of reason, source of confidence, therapist 

and spiritual guide. 

At a certain age (think: puberty), most girls are more comfortable sharing certain things with mom. Although Mom and I are now best friends, it wasn't so when I was growing up. Dad got to hear all of those things I probably should have spared him. One hot summer afternoon a girlfriend came by so we could go swimming. I calmly announced to my father, "I can't go swimming because I'm on my period, and I don't think it's a good idea to have all that red in the pool. But we can do something else." Without flinching, my dad said, "Oh, okay." The only person uncomfortable with that exchange was my girlfriend. The second we walked out of the living room, she asked, "How the hell could you say that in front of your dad? Weren't you embarrassed?" She definitely didn't understand our bond.

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It's not what Daddy has bought me. Instead it's the moments we share, and we've had quite a few, many of them set against the backdrop of a long walk. 

My first walk on the beach was with my dad. We talked about guys. He didn't exactly tell me what to look for in a guy. In fact, he highlighted a few of his own shortcomings, which, in essence, told me what to avoid. Actually, what it subconsciously led to is the foundational recipe for relationships, and this is what I've shared with the men who have come into my life: love God, love yourself and without question, you've got to learn to love me exactly the way I am while desiring me to be the best version of me as I would of you. 

Don't get me wrong. Mom makes me laugh, and I have a blast with her. She's always my choice to have a drink with, and I wouldn't trade that for the world. But Daddy brings a different type of fun. The two of us can stay in the house all day working and know we haven't missed a thing from the outside world. These are the moments that he takes my already bound master's thesis and doctoral dissertation and marks them up with edits. It's the moment that he sees a rough draft for a research article I am working on and he queries me extensively on how I conducted my focus groups. It's the occasions he turns to me and we discuss politics, sports or even entertainment. 

"Boy I empathize with that Paris Hilton kid," he said during one of these discussions. "Based on what you see on television, I wouldn't want that kind of limelight." 

Then he reminded me: "Girl, you are doing great, but you have no social life! You've got to want to share all of this with someone. You are a catch!" 

Daddy and I look alike; our likeness in character changes depending on the day. And for every creative, out-of-the-box, emotional and crazy moment, idea or venture I've had, my biggest fan has been my dad. He is rooting for me, win or lose. I have le arned about being a well grounded, giving person from Dad. Our relationship has taught me how to treat people. It has fed me spiritually and emotionally.

To my future husband, on that day--our day--when we decide our two halves should become one, that first dance goes to my father. Without him, I would not be the person you desire.

--T. Richard