I haven't seen my dad in several years, and he's never met Shannon. Getting together with my dad is always immensely stressful because he pushes and pushes and pushes, wanting to be a major part of my life ... all of a sudden ... out of nowhere ... even though we've had almost no contact in the past 12 years.
Even just on the phone, he pushed me and pushed me and pushed me about my brother, until I finally said, as gently as possible, that Alan really doesn't want much (read: any) contact with Dad right now (read: anymore). It sounded an awful lot like my dad was crying. He was clearly extremely upset. Such an uncomfortable situation for me, and such a painful situation for him. Sigh.
So, anyway, Shannon and I are going in to the city to have dinner with my dad tonight. I'm a nervous wreck. Getting together with my dad is always a stressful proposition. I'm happy to get to see him briefly, and to have him and Shannon finally meet, but I know there are going to be numerous and frequent uncomfortable moments, as well.
Because my dad indicated an interest in my writing, I'm bringing him print-outs of a bunch of stuff I've written over the past few years. No fiction, though. Most of my fiction (non-fanfic fiction, I mean) is heavily based on my own life experiences, and so isn't very kind to my father. So I'm taking print-outs of the articles I wrote for Skotos, one of the articles Shannon and I co-wrote, some essays I've written on various subjects, a couple of my sonnets, and even a couple of my LJ entries (the one about the spiders in the mailbox and the one about the art of the apology).
If nothing else, the writing stuff might give us something to talk about.
There go my plans to have a relaxing evening. It looks like it will be, instead, quite the opposite.