The weirdest thing is that my father, the broken man that he was, wanted to hose me off with the garden hose when I was around 12 or 13. In my bathing suit. “some nice day you can put your bathing suit on and I’ll splash you with the hose.” Do you know a broken man? So I was freaked out then the day came and he splashed me. And that was it. He wasn’t a diddler, and he stayed away from the privates. Message sent: You will never have a normal dad. Message recieved: I don’t really have a dad. It gets better. Can you see? My dad was a licensed psychotherapist. A literal mad f****** doctor. Can you see how putting authority on a pedestal should be done with caution?
