In the interest of full disclosure, I have four roommates in my tiny, three-bedroom house. Rae (a pseudonym) and I have known each other for years; we met years ago in the days of the Oxford Planned Parenthood. It seems really condescending to say this, but her life -- daily struggles with her partner, her kids, jail time, etc. -- was inspiring in Oxford, where the average person is upper-middle class and probably doesn't face most of these problems.
Four years later, I accidentally attended the birth of her third child, linked her into a new job, and watched as her domestic situation crumbled. And that's how I found myself one evening in January helping to move her and her three kids into my house.
Her three children.
I am a perpetually single gay man in his 20s. I have a host of personal issues going on. And I am, now, the most regular adult male figure in these three children's lives
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2 comments:
Awww, man, that was awesome. I guess I'm totally out of touch as I knew nothing of this. I just turn my back and BOOM - father of three. You're all "This American Life." (kidding - seriously though that was a great post.)
you are a really kind soul!
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