So, my sperm donor (yes, we’re calling him sperm donor now, nothing else), sprung on me Christmas Eve that this job transfer that he’s been wanting for a long time, probably two years now, is about to happen. He’s leaving Tuesday for Orlando, and he’s going to live with his best friend and Don for a while.
Which, as a separate thought kind of scares me, it’ll be like Evil Knievel Moldy Edition. Mind you all that these are the men that go to Disneyland without their kids. But I guess it’ll be alright. I mean, he doesn’t have any family, and all his friends are spread out everywhere, and he really wanted this job! He’s happy now! And Don said he’d go wherever he went, so they’re all gonna be roomies down there, and yeah. Just wished he’d given me more of a warning. I mean, screw my mother and her problems with this, she’s a grown-ass adult, but he just sprang it on me like that. Not sure how I feel about that.
So this weekend we managed to cram another two years of father-daughter bonding into about four days. I helped him fix his friend’s moped for him, he taught me how to change a tire and jump a battery for driver’s ed (if you thought you knew horrible car innuendos, don’t ask a mechanic just to be sure. You won’t sleep), and then we went to IKEA to get my new bedroom mirror I picked out and he laughed at me for, like, the next two days because I managed to swindle this guy’s employee discount because I batted my eyelashes and called him sweetie, like, ninety times. Never gonna hear the end of that one. Then he wanted to go get pedicures (my dad loves pedicures, it’s one of his feminine fixations), and have dinner with his pretty lady at the El Salvadorian restaurant.
Next day we packed and shipped and I got hit on and it was creepy so I watched him pack and ship locked inside the car and that was it. He leaves Tuesday.