I read Matthew McConaughey’s memoir Greenlights a few months after Mazey was born.
At various points in the book, McConaughey confidently notes that becoming a father was always a lifelong goal. He was eight years old and pondering fatherhood. He was a Delta Tau Delta frat boy at UT dreaming of fatherhood.
That seems weird to me. Not wrong. Not fake. But very foreign.
All smiles at the Poteet Strawberry Festival. 
I always assumed I would be a Dad eventually. It felt inevitable[1], but did I look forward to it? No. Day dream about it? No. Was a fatherhood a life goal? No.
I’ve been lucky to know a lot of great Dads, many who entered the scene at key moments in my twenties. These best friends and mentors offered an inside look on Dad life. But even these guys, who I trust and love deeply, didn’t trigger any sort of mad dash for Dadhood.
Maybe this is what was going on inside my head: Aside from dying of old age, having kids always seemed like some final frontier of being a grown up. And being a true grown up meant a lot of sacrifice that probably wasn’t worth it.
Turns out, I was kind of right about the sacrifice but wrong about the worth it part.
[1] Dumb assumption in hindsight
Gratefully Dad 