Are dads more emotional?

Is there some ad hoc science to explain why I’ve become such a melt?

Credit: Thred

I loathe my sudden inability to not become a snivelling mess.

I’ve never been an outwardly emotional person, but I’m no tinman either.

The best policy for me has always been to deal with stuff internally. Don’t make a fuss and don’t you dare draw attention to yourself. Healthy, right?

It’s the typical case of working class lad grows up with piss-taking relatives. I was nearly called Jessy, but my folks were worried other children would call me a ‘big Jessy’ on the playground — whatever that means.

Yes, the small possibility of primary school homophobia was a sufficient reason to alter my literal identity in the womb. Vis-à-vis, I don’t need a therapist to espouse theories about repressed memories and why I struggle to ‘let people in’. I HATE that cliché and all.

This default setting of concealing bad feelings and not burdening others has been toggled on since my formative years. Since having my daughter 18 months ago, however, the firewalls that used to protect me from embarrassment have up and vanished like a fart in the wind.

I don’t know whether it’s attributable to a prolonged period of very limited sleep, but I can’t so much as…