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“My Two Dads” Had Nothing to Do With My Dad
Why “close enough” representation is better than no representation
I fell in love with a terrible sitcom that had absolutely nothing to do with my actual life, and it taught me everything I needed to know about making do with what you’ve got.
Picture this: It’s 1987, and my dad has just delivered what was probably the most straightforward coming-out conversation in parenting history. “Some men love women, and some men love men. I love men.” I nodded like he’d just explained how traffic lights work and asked if I could go ride my bike. Not because I didn’t care, but because it made perfect sense to me. Of course people loved different people. Could we move on to more pressing ten-year-old concerns now?
A few weeks later, we’re both parked on our butts on the rust-colored carpet of my dad’s third floor post-divorce apartment. On the tv set (it had dials! Knobs!) came a commercial for something called “My Two Dads.” Two men! Raising a kid! Together! We looked at each other with careful excitement, like people who’d learned not to expect too much but couldn’t help feeling hopeful anyway.
When the show actually premiered, I was immediately, completely, embarrassingly hooked. My dad watched exactly one episode, made a face like he’d bitten into a lemon…
