Ben Gaddy

Countless Americans passionately despise the start/stop feature in cars. So many have spoken out against this absurd start-stop-start-stop-start-stop concept. The Trump Admin has heard your calls and the announcement you have been waiting for is coming THIS WEEK. Stay tuned!

another German investment, another 6 hours of a notary reading every single word of all the documents out loud to each party to the transaction after we’ve all agreed on the docs

12 hours and counting - notary reads every single word of Series A docs in Germany out loud in front of founders. In person. Guys, we have GDP to grow here. Pure prehistoric madness.

Am I just a monster? It's been 4 years since I became a father and I'm beginning to fear for my soul. The truth is I just don't like being around kids for very long. Historically, this is not uncommon among fathers, but today it feels almost illegal. It's causing me a lot of confusion and anguish. The ideal amount of time I would like to spend playing with my kids is probably about 70-140 minutes a week—roughly ten minutes each day, maybe 2x/day, taking breaks from work. My feelings of love toward them are perfectly strong, but if I have to watch them or entertain them for more than about 10 minutes my blood starts to boil. I just want to be working, or accomplishing something. I try to be grateful, but it doesn't work. It's 9 AM this morning, Saturday, January 3. It's a sunny, warm day here in Austin, and my four-year-old son is begging me to play catch in the street. I was drinking coffee, still waking up, so I didn’t really feel like it, but at this age his desire to play is insatiable. He begged and begged, so I conceded, and with a smile. I have no problem being a kind and loving father, the problem is only that I do not enjoy it. It's not that I'm trying to maximize my personal pleasure; it just seems wrong that I experience so little delight when my dad friends all claim to experience so much. It was beautiful. We live on a picturesque, tree-lined block. I am even relatively relaxed from the holiday rest. Playing catch with your son is supposed to be an iconic, peak experience. Yet for every single minute, on the inside, I just don't want to be there. I want to be drinking my coffee in peace. Then I feel guilty and absurdly ungrateful, and ashamed, when we're done. I know that when he is a teenager, I'll long to have these days back. I have all of this perspective rationally, and I've been very patient and steadfast trying to digest it, but nothing fixes me emotionally. Am I a terrible person? Or is my feeling within a certain range of historically normal and it's modern parenting norms that are off? Whether it's my fault or not, I don't even care, I just want to figure this out. Something is wrong and I no longer have the excuse of being new to this.

several things, but one of the biggest is hearing from many people whose children have severe disabilities. You can try to think about this stuff and be grateful, but there’s nothing like multiple people saying it to you, while the rest of the world is hating you and kind of softening you up. Completely insane, unnatural and unhealthy experience on the whole, going viral for deeply personal stuff, but pieces of it are like actually real therapy on steroids

This is the future they stole from you by waiting so long to regulate!