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Finally, there’s the fact that I don’t want to just “date.” I want to find a partner who would also be excited about playing the role of Lucy’s father.
So many times in Lucy’s first year, I found myself looking around and wishing there was else going through this with me.
At the end of the night, the bride tapped me on the shoulder. You should go talk to him again if you’re interested.” I thought back to the tall guy with the shaggy blonde hair and crooked smile.
We’d been laughing in line at the bar; at one point, Lucy had reached up to try to grab his sunglasses.
I loved how suddenly there was no question: We’d hold hands, have a “hello” kiss, head home in the same cab.
And, to be honest, I even loved the four- or five-month mark when I realised there likely wasn’t a future — I could reactivate my Tinder profile and start the cycle all over again.
This was made easier by the fact that he's also a writer, and our “date” was ostensibly to talk about our careers.
Both of us danced to the DJ, me holding her tiny hand to support her wobbly standing.It was clear after our beer that we wouldn’t be anything more than friends, but it was still gratifying. Lucy had been invited, her name engraved alongside mine on the cream-coloured invitation.