Posted on: Sunday, November 21, 2004
I'm sensitive, not like those fathers on TV
By Michael DeMattos
I hate the way guys are portrayed on TV, especially the married guys, the dads, who seem more fool than cool. These are the kind of boobs that make George Bush look like a linguist.
You would think that with IQ lower than par on an 18-hole golf course (typically 72, if you are counting), they would have some redeeming traits. Not these boys. They're about as sensitive as Mike Tyson at a press conference and about half as much fun.
They do not even make good eye-candy. Overweight with receding hairlines, none has ever had to worry about the proverbial "casting couch."
Yet somehow they all have the most spectacular TV wives, smart and beautiful. There is not a stretch mark to be found despite giving birth to the requisite 2.5 kids. Life in TV land is pretty good.
Maybe it is just sour grapes. I mean, when it comes down to it, most of those TV dads look a lot like me. Or maybe I look like them. And when it comes to marital partners, I too have clearly overachieved. Sometimes I wonder whether my wife will one day claim entrapment ... you know, the ol' bait and switch. There was a time when I had a six-pack for a waist rather than the weekend.
Still, I may look like a TV dad and I may even have the IQ of a TV dad, but I am not without feelings, nor am I insensitive. Or so I thought.
Last Saturday I spent the morning teaching my daughter the finer points of power tools, especially safety. She used the orbital sander and brought a koa board down to a glass-like finish. She used the drill press to punch holes in a cribbage board we were building. All the while, her mother stared out the kitchen window in silence as father and daughter worked together learning about tools and the grain found in wood and a family's soul.
Later that day, it was Mom's turn. She and our daughter were making handprint T-shirts with acrylic paints. I noticed how carefully my wife explained the process, making sure that everything was just right. And my daughter, her attention captured, listened intently ... until I threw in my 2 cents.
For some reason, I could not do for my wife what she had done for me just a few hours earlier. This was a moment for mother and daughter, not father and daughter. I blew it. I started lobbing advice from the top of the key like Scotty Pippen to Michael Jordan, except Jordan wasn't jumping. He retired, and so did my wife. She looked at me with more resignation than rancor, knowing that I had somehow found a way to spoil a special moment reserved for the two of them.
Just like the dads on TV, I tried to make light of it. I even cracked a joke or two, but no one was laughing.
Later that night, as we lay together in bed, I apologized for being so insensitive. My wife looked at me and smiled appreciatively, and I knew we were OK.
Sadly, I may be more like the dads on TV than I would like to admit, and thankfully, my wife is more like the TV moms: smart, beautiful, caring and willing to put up with a dolt like me.
Family therapist Michael C. DeMattos has a master's degree in social work.
