Very special man with pink hair interrupts this broadcast to tell us he has brand new twin babies but he doesn’t love being called Daddy.

‘Daddy’s right here for you, okay?,’ said the neonatal medic to my newborn identical twins as they wheeled them to the special care unit.

This was the first time someone had referred to me by this name, but as well as finding it sweet and overwhelming in a good way, I also found it quite jarring. 

As an assigned male at birth (AMAB) non-binary person, being referred to as ‘the dad’ or ‘daddy’ – which are clearly masculine-gendered terms – didn’t fit with my gender identity. 

Way to make it all about you, bro. Way to conjure up some kind of rebukey petulant gripe in order to talk about yourself right after the woman who did all the work did all the work.

But as the options for gender-neutral titles aren’t great – and deviating from the traditional binary gendered parent names is fraught with risks like people not being able to work out what my relationship is with my children – I’ve had to learn to make peace with being misgendered in this way ever since. 

I wish that we as a society had already established gender-neutral parent words which everyone is aware of, to allow me to be recognised as my full self, but the poor state of LGBTQIA+ education means this feels like a distant possibility.  

But having a special luxury word would do nothing to allow you to be recognized as your full special glorious platinum self, for the extremely simple reason that NO ONE GIVES A FUCK.

Are you really old enough to impregnate a woman but still unable to grasp that other people don’t care about you the way you care about you? That trying to tell the world how special you are is supremely childish?

There’s much more of the same and it’s all just as infantile. His twins are smarter than he is.