Six Things I Didn’t Do Yesterday
Jan02

Six Things I Didn’t Do Yesterday

Olive and I were eating at Johnny Rockets in Bakersfield on New Year’s Day. She likes to sit at the bar, spin in her seat, and people watch. I do too. An absolutely gorgeous woman walks in with two small children, a boy and a girl. They sit a few seats down from us, meaning they like the bar scene also. My first order of business is to look for a ring. It’s the polite thing to do, right? No ring. Woohoo! The local news shows up with a...

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X Reasons To Date a Single Dad with a Daughter
Dec15

X Reasons To Date a Single Dad with a Daughter

Let me start by saying I’m not a big fan of those blog titles with a predetermined number of ways or whys. It’s every other post I see in my News Feed, and now I’m contributing to the madness. I’m sorry but it has to happen. Actually, what happened was HuffPost asked me to come up with a couple of reasons why you should date a single dad. As I started writing some ideas down, I noticed that I have no clue what...

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‘I Want to Pee Like Daddy’
Sep12

‘I Want to Pee Like Daddy’

Two-year-olds aren’t made to be quiet, so when my daughter left the room and a few minutes of silence followed, it caused alarm. When I followed her, I found her atop the step stool with her hands on her cheeks, elbows on her knees with a pout. The most beautiful combination of words rolled out of her mouth like poetry: “I want to pee like daddy.” That was 10 years ago, when I was a 21-year-old boy with a daughter. I...

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My Love-Hate With Online Dating
Sep06

My Love-Hate With Online Dating

I contacted my friend Carla, owner of Huckleberry Market on California’s central coast. I needed a quote on roses. I inquired, “How much does 10 dozen roses cost? I don’t need a vase, only stems. And can this easily be carried?” She replied, “You will look like you’re carrying a rose garden and it would be $648 with tax.” That’s the cost of The Girlfriend Experience; 120 roses. Online...

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Stepping Up to the Plate
May24

Stepping Up to the Plate

I was about nine years old when my parents would come home from work, shut their bedroom door behind them, and start arguing.  There wasn’t a pillow large enough that could hide me from the sound.  Parents try preparing their children for everything, but not this.  I’d leave the house to the nearby junior high where boys my same age practiced baseball.  You’d hear things like, “Two down,” from the chubby one with gear on behind home...

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