Me, 48, super responsible, divorced (by the grace of God), chronically exhausted working mom of two children who hasn’t had a chance to travel out of the country since 2000.
My father, seventies, super duper responsible, self-made hard worker, perfectionist, married, retired, born and raised in Brooklyn.
The Phone Call:
Me: Uh, dad, I wanted to let you know that I’m taking a trip. To Amsterdam.
Dad (very loudly and with disgust): WHAT? WHERE? Why are you going to that crummy, dirty city in the middle of the winter? It’s so dirty! Why would you go THERE?
Me: Well, because wanted to go somewhere I’ve never visited before. And I want to see the Anne Frank Museum, and I can fly right in there on a direct flight ….
Dad (interrupting): Who are you going with!!!
Me (thinking, oh shit): Well, I’m going with someone named M, who I’ve been dating for nearly a year.
Dad: WHAT!?!? M WHO? What’s his last name?
Me: It’s xxxx.
Dad: What? Repeat that!
Me: It’s xxxx.
Silence. I stare out my office window.
Dad: What does he do?
Me: Oh, well here’s some good news, dad, (haha, nervously) he’s worked at the same place for twenty years (as opposed to my ex, who jumped from client to client nearly monthly towards the end)…..
Dad: Oh, Well thank god for THAT! (This might be sarcastic, you never know.) You didn’t answer my question. WHAT DOES HE DO? WHERE DOES HE WORK?
Me: Name of liberal news organization.
Dad: Oh shit, another nut job!
Me: He’s really not a nut job.
Dad: Ummm hmmmm. I gotta go.