I’ve decided to share my latest book (The All-Important, Well-Fed, Giant White Man) with my followers here, free of charge, one chapter at a time. So… Where were we on this read-along… Oh, yes…

Chapter 31: Famous and Popular {at last}

Somewhere between the affair and becoming oh so fabulous and famous (which I’ll get to), I got both married and divorced to another woman. This is what I learned from that extremely brief stint in my life.

Don’t get married on the rebound. Weekly or semi-weekly therapy gets really expensive, and if it ain’t working after a year, it probably ain’t gonna work at all. Certain mother-in-laws have the ability to make life gloriously awful. Redheads can be extremely beautiful and extremely feisty. Have quieter sex when your brother and his family are staying as guests in your home. And, it hurts really, really bad to get close to a child and have her suddenly disappear from your life.

But this chapter is not actually about that part of my life. It’s about me becoming famous. And popular. And renowned. And celebrated. I simply felt I had to stick something in here somewhere about my marriage number two. After all, it did happen. I guess. And it was the worthlessness I felt as a twice-divorced newly single dad that pushed me to start my blog which very quickly brought me my fame.

Single Dad Laughing. That is my blog. I know I don’t even have to tell you the name of it. That would be like Tom Hanks telling you he was in Sleepless in Seattle or Kim Kardashian telling you she has a nice ass. You already know. Everyone already knows.

Am I coming off as a complete jerk yet? Good.

I started my blog days after my wife tore-off down the street in our minivan, leaving me standing on the driveway, holding my confused son, feeling like the most valueless and miserable wreck on earth.

Remember those evil righteous frowns I told you about? The ones that people around here hand-out like Halloween candy when someone gets divorced? Well, this was divorce number two for me. The frowns get heavier and fatter on round two, only they start being accompanied by what I call righteous eyes. Above that frown, the eyes would somehow bulge while squinting, and they would say one of two things. Either, “there’s obviously something seriously wrong with you,” or “Dear God, please don’t touch me. I don’t want your failure to rub off on me and ruin my life and marriage, too.” This is usually supplemented with a barely detectible nervous head twitch and heavy breathing.

And so, in the thick of my insecurities about being divorced twice at the age of 30, I started my blog. Within a few months, I was writing entries that were going mega-viral. People were reading by the tens of thousands and then by the hundreds of thousands. I was being blogged about and talked about and discussed and heralded all over the internet. My Facebook fan page went from a few hundred to more than 30,000 all within the course of a month or two.

And suddenly, I was famous.

Women would now certainly beg to be with me. Friends would line up around blocks. I would be mobbed everywhere I went. It was finally my turn to be and have everything I deserved after so many trials and so much hard work.

Except… I wasn’t famous at all, and I seemed to be the only one who didn’t know that.



This is what I remember from my “thought I was famous” stage of life.

  • I would walk around grocery stores and shopping malls looking everyone dead in the eye as they walked past, creepily and mentally encouraging them to recognize me and make a fuss over my existence.
  • I turned down all sorts of interviews by local television shows and radio programs and bloggers who were so much smaller than I was because I was too big-time to deal with such small-time nuisances.
  • A producer from The Ellen Show called after I pompously coerced my fans into flooding Ellen and Oprah with requests to have me on. After five minutes on the phone with me, he hung up and never contacted me again because I was an arrogant nitwit.
  • I quit my really high paying job because, well, I was famous and I didn’t need it. After all, fame comes with a healthy side of opportunity, and I knew there would be plenty of it.
  • If a woman I was dating didn’t become a huge fan herself, I lost interest. She needed to think I walked on water just like everyone else obviously did.
  • I drove my family crazy. I drove my friends crazy. I drove every woman I dated crazy. Their annoyance with me was obviously based in jealousy.
  • I got a license plate that said SDL on it because I knew endless people would see those initials and honk and wave because they loved my blog so much.
  • I expected everything to just work in my favor without much further effort or thought from me. I expected free stuff from everyone. I wanted everything done for me. Even little things became annoying like having to butter my own toast or fill up my own gas tank.
  • I wore sunglasses indoors so that I wouldn’t be recognized when I as in a hurry.
  • Everywhere I went without sunglasses on, I had an excuse why nobody there was recognizing me. These people are too young. These people are too male. These people aren’t parents. These people would never read blogs. These people are so old they probably don’t even know what the Internet is. These girls are too stuck-up and prissy to read my kind of stuff. These guys only care about tech sites. These people just aren’t (fill in pretentious and self-deluding blank, I probably thought it).

This phase lasted about a year, and if I’m being honest, I’m surprised I have any friends or family members left who will even tolerate my presence now. If any of them weren’t famous at all (the way I wasn’t) and started acting the way I did, I assure you I would have grabbed them by the shoulders, shook them nice and hard, slapped them up and down a few times, and told them, “get over your fucking self. No one gives a shit.”

But everyone in my life was too nice to do that for me…

CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE

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Dan Pearce is an American-born author, app developer, photographer, and artist. This blog, Single Dad Laughing, is what he’s most known for, with more than 2 million daily subscribers as of 2017. Pearce writes mostly humorous and introspective works, as well as his musings which span from fatherhood, to dating, to life, to the people and dynamics of society. Single Dad Laughing is much more than a blog. It’s an incredible community of people just being real and awesome together!