I want to have a dad like Felix.
I want to have a dad who had a larger-than-life personality, adventurous, super-rich, and incredibly charming, a dad who could talk himself out of any sticky situations and be well-connected with the good, bad pool of people in a big city like New York or London.
I want to have a dad who continued to worship me as his most precious possession of life even when I was well into my early forties, permanently exhausted as the full-time mom of two pre-teen daughters, running around with no make-ups and wearing shapeless pullovers and dirty sneakers. I was having greasy hair that needs serious deep cleansing and I was carrying a constant-five-month-pregnant-like belly deprived of the regular body-toning-worthy exercises I used to deploy regularly back in my younger and single years. Yet my imaginary dad still sent me a full two-dozen bouquet of pink roses on my birthday.
I want to have a dad whom I could consult for some very private, very hard to get answers type of questions when I suspected my husband was on the verge to develop a crush-lean-to-affair mental instability. I picked up some signs, and I wanted to know its implications from a male’s perspective. The first person I would call was my dad, a playboy for life.
Better yet, I want to have a dad who not only answered my very delicate inquiries but also immediately jumped the gun to hire some old buddies to get my husband wired and followed and stalking pictures taken.
The most hilarious and emotionally charging part, I want to have a dad who could fly me all the way down to a beautiful resort in Mexico, placed me to a 5-star hotel owned by one of his old flames, where I could stalk my husband who suspiciously went to a sudden business trip with his hot-and-smart-and-young executive assistant to meet a new client at the hotel next door.
And when everything went terribly wrong, I could yell at my dad and spilled out all my resentment and frustrations like a really spoiled daughter.
Because I could blame him for all the embarrassment and mistakes that I made on the way.
And Felix, my imaginary dad, just stood there with a sad rugged face full of boyish apologetic expression as if caught doing something seriously forbidden.
I just kept charging on with tears. Yet deep in my heart, I knew this moment would be over, and he would still be available the first moment I called upon for help.
I really want to have a dad like Felix in this latest movie made by one of my favorite movie makers, Sophia Coppola.
But I knew Felix is the other girl’s dad. A dad you love to have in an imaginary world, and a dad would be such a pain in your real dull life.
