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I long for the satisfaction of other men.  It’s been that way for as long as I remember. The older, more accomplished, the greater the reach.  It’s in all forms- religion, sports, profession.  I will be the first to shit on the status of other men and judge their priorities as I line up for positive reinforcement.

It’s all insecurity.  It’s the same reason I draw on myself or value my ability as an arm-chair comic.  I want others to appreciate me or find me interesting.  Find me valuable. 

I am valuable.  This isn’t a cry for help or even a tent of vulnerability.  It’s just a fact.  I can remember John Robert being a 5^th grader when I was a kindergartner and him giving me a high-five in the hallway.  JRB was the best basketball player at Dacula Elementary.

In middle school I remember playing soccer with Ian, a senior- the greatest athlete my little high school had known to that date.  He was five years older than me and him recognizing my abilities as even an 8^th grader was akin to Kirby Smart sending me an email telling me I was ready for Saturdays.  Funny enough, I see Ian most Sundays now and still value him greatly as a peer.  Less reverent than I was in 2004, but still think the world of that dude.

I go to college and I meet Reese, the coolest motherfucker I had met to date.  Three years older than me but had this habit of just being kind, funny, and a dude who loved to scrap.  We clicked immediately and his approval was huge for my confidence as a freshman. I’ll never forget when inter-fraternal tensions got high and Reese came to find me to see if I wanted to go meet PIKE (pi kappa alpha) in the middle of fraternity row and start some shit.  Nothing happened but the invite alone was such a badge of honor.

The chase continues as I approach 40. Certain neighbors’ approval means more to me than any family member ever could.  In my job, the little compliments or atta boys give me a boost of energy.  I walk into church and certain hugs feel better than others.  I guess it boils down to being wanted or even being wanted by those who I see as above me in certain categories- the arts, the sciences, fatherhood.

I am on the third edition of baby raising. I missed the first 20 months of young boy’s raising but the feelings of trying to get a baby’s love came rushing back.  I remember when my eldest was born and it was so weird not being connected to him at the beginning.  I loved him so much but wanted him to love me the same.  A tall ask for a four day old. 

By round 2 with my eldest daughter I was more seasoned.  My expectations were lower and my timeline more patient.  I was satisfied with the idea that she was not in my womb for nine months and that it would take a little bit.  I spent less time forcing the issue and more time anticipating the future connection that I was betting on.

Round 3 coming “as is” has presented its own unique version of events.  A 20-month-old who doesn’t know anyone in his new house; it became a lot more about him and less about how I felt. There was a change in energy and a disregard for anticipation compared to the other two baby experiences.  Early on, I truly didn’t care if this little boy ever liked me; I was here to give him the opportunity to and that was it.

Something has clicked in the past 7 days.  That little boy who took about 3 hours to love The Gaffer spent 8 weeks not thinking twice about my existence… until recently.  He smiles when he sees me.  He knows I am good for a dozen tummy raspberries a day and that makes him giggle so hard. The way I ask him for a kiss and he leans his forehead into my mouth.  The way I think he actually hears what I am saying.

I never knew I needed his love or affirmation until I got it.  Now, it’s all I want.  I have a bookend of sons, and I had no idea it was all I ever wanted.   As I look for the satisfaction of men, these two little men’s thoughts of me matter more than anything I could ever dream of.  Their smiles alone satisfy any insecurity I have, if only for a moment.  Praise God.