Wearing my favourite spray-on shirt and being taken out to the Opera House for an arty night by a friend, I was in fine form by the time we hit the strip to even out the high culture evening.

With two beers under our belts, we headed straight for Palms. My friend is a gorgeous towering man with the devil’s charm in his smile, so we took over the dance floor in minutes.

There was a cute guy in the next group, so we made eye contact and had a few cheeky grins at each other. I left the floor to stand over near the wall and soon, as I had intended, he followed.

Back home, interludes of introductions over ripping clothes off went fine until he realised I have children. Normally, this isn’t a mood killer, but he asks if I am serious and I reply quite -” ready for the next question.

He let out a small exacerbated laugh and informed me I was the fifth person in a row he had picked up recently who has kids. I took umbrage with not what he said but how he said it. I almost felt like I needed to apologise and take the photo of my boys down.

Okay, so pass me their numbers… I almost, and knowing how the night was progressing, should have suggested.

Apart from sharing with me how he’s read a lot about how parents make many mistakes raising children and why he wouldn’t have children, he also told me he doesn’t keep clothes past one season. That was enough for me. My evening’s pick-up may have had amazing eyes and quick wit and he did succumb to the six-word pick-up, but you know what, we all make mistakes. I certainly did by paying for the whole cab fare with this man.

The best thing a person can do to elicit bolts of lightening from me is to lecture me or question my parenting methods. At worst, ask me to justify my raising them a certain way.

The majority of us parents try our hardest to do the right thing for our children. Our intentions are good -” we love, and sometimes when you love someone, you make mistakes, like in any relationship.

As a child, sometimes you don’t understand your parents’ demands or reasons or even their actions, but you know they love you. In hindsight, as a child who became a father, you understand that mistakes are made for everyone to grow, learn and most importantly -” love.

So, dear clothes horse, I am not alone.  There are many amazing gay dads out there.  On the sixth time you run into one of us, pray you have your own bib to stop dribbling your parental theories all over us.

My shirts are for my boys …

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