Doreen and Daddy Are Living the Life

Single father cooking breakfast with a baby

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I’m a single dad. This is my beautiful baby girl. She wasn’t planned and her mother hates me for it, so I was left alone my newborn on Day 1.

When the nurse told me she was mine—no, seriously, all mine, as in dude, your baby mama just ditched her placenta on the floor and escaped the hospital, so the baby’s all yours to raise—I said, Nurse, you give me a hospital bed and slap a pair of titties on me so I can give my baby the life she deserves.

Nurse didn’t do those things, but I’m pretty sure I’m killing the single dad game anyway. I gave my girl a bang-ass name: Doreen. Doesn’t she just scream someone who’s a Doreen? The women at the local mommy club keep saying, Oh my god Carlos, Doreen is such an old and ugly name, blah blah blah, but fuck ‘em. Those ladies are just jealous and bitter. I’d be bitter, too, if my tits were spewing milk all willy-nilly like dollar store squirt guns.

Single fatherhood is great! I’m not exhausted from giving birth, I don’t have to blame baby Doreen for giving me a ripped-up and flappy taint. In fact, I often thank Doreen, profusely, for totally ravaging her bitch mom’s undercarriage. Bad. And Doreen’s well-fed! I get her breastmilk from the old Russian lady with glaucoma next door. My baby girl and I are living the life.

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