A Letter To My Future Child

When I first found out I was going to be a father, my mind raced with so many thoughts and emotions I literally thought my head was going to burst. First were the thoughts of the birth and watching my beautiful son or daughter enter the world. The image of my goo-covered baby exiting the womb and into mommy’s arms filled my eyes with tears. Then came the thoughts of playing catch, the first day of school, prom, college and all the other various life moments we greatly cherish.

I must admit I have led a bit of a wild loner life and the thought of how all this would change not only my life but also me as a man really moved me.  I wanted to capture these thoughts and feelings so someday I could share it with my child.

Below is a letter I wrote to my unborn child sharing what exactly went on with me when I discovered they were coming into my life.  I will mail this letter so they will receive it on their eighteenth birthday.

Dear Son or Daughter,

I am sorry we never met. The second I heard of your mother’s pregnancy I packed my shit and quickly left Chicago. I spent thousands upon thousands of your mother’s dollars on the black market changing my name, social security number, and facial features so you or your mother could never find me.

I know this sounds crazy, but I hope you at least admire the commitment I make to my choices. I know this statement probably raises the question, “Why didn’t you make a commitment to me and my mother?" Well, I never met you and the only thing I liked about your mother was her breasts and that it only took three Bud Lights to get her into bed.

You should know that I met your mother during a brief period in my life when I worked as a stand-up comedian. (I wasn’t very good.) Your mother was a waitress at a low-end club I was working and she was known to sleep with every comic who came through the door.  I hate to think about it, but I am Eskimo buddies with Jay Mohr, Richard Jenni, and a long line of other hack blow-job comics. God only knows how many diseases may swim about my balls.


I guess I should ask the obligatory questions: “How’s school," “Are you going to the dance,” Playing any sports?" However, I don’t see the point since this is being sent with a fake return address, and I will never receive your responses.

I do hope you are well…sort of…I mean for all I know you turned out to be some frat boy jarhead or some uppity Republican girl who doesn’t screw and protests abortion. If this is the case, I blame myself because I wasn’t there to properly guide you through the difficult choices of life. I don’t really mean that. I just thought I’d sound good at the end of a letter.

I hope you enjoyed this letter. I hope it doesn’t hurt that this is a form letter and is being sent out to 25 children throughout the country. Life is hard, kid. Get used to it.

Love, (As if I know how to give that.)

Your father (sort of)

Marcus Willoughby (fake name)