14 - Tinder, Toddlers & Truth

“Daddy, where are you going?”

A completely normal question in our house. Even though our daughter is slowly entering the one-word-answer phase of a preteen, she still wants to know what we’re up to. Totally fair. And usually, we give her honest answers: supermarket, office, dentist, hardware store. The usual.

What you never say, though, is:

“I’m off to see my regular sex partner—today with snuggles and snacks.”

Or:

“I’m visiting my pleasure friend. We’re doing horizontal sports—it’s a mix of yoga, weightlifting, and rhythmic gymnastics, but with less clothing.”

If you’ve ever used any of these suggestions, please message me immediately. I desperately want to know how that went and how much you plan on spending on your kids therapy. 

Here’s the truth:

You wouldn't, shouldn’t, and absolutely don’t need to tell your kid everything.

But—and this is a big, morally inconvenient but—lying to her goes against every fiber of my being.

We talk a big game about trust and open communication—and then plan to lie to our kid for years? Honestly, it bothers me so much that after getting thoroughly screwed, I sometimes swing by the hardware store—just to turn a few actual screws. You know, so when my kid asks where I’ve been, I can say, with a straight face: “I was out screwing.”

At least part of the story would be true.

It’s not just about protecting our relationship with her—it’s about living what we believe. I want her to see that fidelity doesn’t mean sexual exclusivity. That real loyalty lives in honesty. And that some hearts are just big enough to hold love for more than one person.

So how do you show that, without messing up her emotional development?

Good question. We’re still figuring it out.

Here’s what we do for now:

If we’re seeing someone who’s likely to stick around—like Chloé or Giovanni—we just tell her. The others? We meet them while she’s asleep or at school. That way, those long-term people simply become “friends”—and let’s be honest, some friends are just extra special.

The idea is that as her understanding of intimacy grows, maybe so will her understanding of what we’re sharing with these people. No big dramatic reveal. No family-crushing truth bomb. Just slow, steady context.

Will it work? We’ll see.

Speaking of kids and Tinder:

Can we please talk about how many men post profile pictures with their children—like they’re adorable little puppies or baby deer, designed to melt women’s hearts? Stop it. Just stop.

Here’s the thing:

Moms already know kids are chaos, sleepless nights, and dirty clothes wrapped in cuteness. We don’t fall for the “so cute” trick anymore. And women without kids? They either want to call you “Daddy” while licking your lollipop—or they find kids about as sexy as dirty talk with Alexa.

And seriously, what do the mothers of those kids think? That their children are being used as Tinder bait?

Yes—dads can be sexy. But not when they come with a diaper bag.

If kids are off-limits at parent-teacher night, they should definitely stay out of the afterparty.

So until we come up with a better solution, we’ll stick to half-truths and occasional hardware store visits—maintaining the facade just long enough—until our daughter’s old enough to help us tear it down.