I have a friend. Let’s call him Kabir. Why? In the grand tradition of the Internet’s Elders iykyk.About a dozen years ago, Kabir fathered a child. Now that would be a fairly unremarkable event to all outside of (and many within) the delivery suite where His Wife underwent a Dickensian length labour to bring their loudly wailing daughter into the world. The daughter who made Her Mother fart, shart and poop while making her way through Her Mother’s birth canal. Also the daughter who was then promptly labelled Baby X, X being Kabir’s last name, of course, after the cleanup.It was all very unexciting and on-brand, anthropologically speaking. Our species has been procreating for 300,000 years, after all. And we’ve been identifying newborns through some form of their paternal lineage for almost 1,000 years now.One remarkable thing did happen that day, though. The stars aligned, the planets turned and unbe knownst to us all, another creature entered the premises just as Baby X opened her eyes for the first time. In the weeks to come, this creature would anoint itself Girl Dad Kabir.131886591WHOLLY FATHERWhen Baby X was a toddler, Girl Dad Kabir could recite, from memory, Bluey and Peppa Pig’s extended family trees because he’d spent hours researching each characters’ values. Girl Dad Kabir used to be greeted with the warm familiarity one harbours for a returning hero by the staff at several airport Hamleys. Girl Dad Kabir knows all of his daughter’s classmates besties and nemeses. Girl Dad Kabir crouches so he can speak to them at eye level. Online, he reprimands fathers who “babysit” their children: “It’s called parenting!” he types tersely, the righteousness radiating from his pores. He condemns the alpha male myth with vigour. Often, he’ll make reels about French braiding her hair with the precision of a hair architect before their Daddy-Daughter pickleball/froyo/mahjong dates.It is understandable then that Baby X, who is almost Tween X now, adores Girl Dad Kabir and calls him her best friend. She recently told him about her first crush and they had a long conversation about her feelings. Later, he texted about it in a group chat as an earnest monologue cumsermon on the toxic urge to lock her up till she’s 30. Girl Dad Kabir fathers in a way that inspires envy and marvel among all who witness it and there are many who do because he’s extremely online.Husband Kabir, though, is a different story. Let me assure you that His Wife is not a victim of dramatic neglect or husbanding crimes so scandalous that they deserve smelling salts. She’s simply living in a marriage with a hum of low grade under whelm as the background score. Not ominous, just annoying. More elevator music than Ramin Djawadi.If you send Husband Kabir into a bookstore, he won’t know which aisle to turn to pick something for His (readaholic) Wife. He will vaguely gesture towards science fiction, then give up and call me. Husband Kabir does not know His Wife’s ex-BFF’s name the one she still sometimes discusses in couples therapy. Husband Kabir does not know His Wife loathes brown clothing or who her hair stylist of 15 years is.There is copious online evidence of Husband Kabir’s considerable talent at planning extravagant, multistep dates to celebrate their romantic dyad. Professional offendees may point out that His Wife is a shy introvert who would much rather have an intimate dinner for two, but we are not dour like them. A man must be allowed to forget some things without fear of ridicule or retaliation. Some day, he will know the little details that make her, her. We know this because Husband Kabir recently scribbled “Ted Chiang” in his Notes app. Let’s give him some (light) applause for doing it, unprompted.TWO-FOR-ONE COMBOI’ve always been fascinated with the Husband Kabir and Girl Dad Kabir two-for-one combo. Marvelled at how their lives seem to move in perfect lock step, while aggressively avoiding contact. And I think Girl Dad Kabir is Husband Kabir’s ultimate redemption arc. Because daughters offer something that wives (or girlfriends or partners) who have spent years leaving detailed instructions for everything before leaving for their annual girls’ weekend and still get calls from the cook asking, “Bhaiya ke liye kya ba nau?” simply can’t: Uncomplicated admiration. Daughters also offer something sons can’t. Boy Dad Kabir has the ghost of his own childhood peering over his shoulder sternly, making him wonder if he’s still somehow continuing to disappoint his father.But daughters are clean slates; the ultimate do-over opportunities for men who have spent years curating personal exhibits of domestic and emotional incompetence for the overtired women in their lives. Daughters afford Girl Dad Kabirs the dopamine hits of instantly being seen as the men they wished they were, not the men they’ve always been and often still are when no one (other than the wife) is looking. And the juicy cherry on top: a torrent of praise, without being corralled by the demands of the pesky effort that normally warrants it. The return on investment could outperform gold.MOM’S GIRLBut one day in the not-so-distant future, Tween X will become Woman X. And she’ll see, with sickening clarity, all the invisible work Mom just mom was forced to put in so they could have the precious Girl Dad Kabir myth. She’ll suddenly remember all the times Mom was on the phone scheduling dentist appointments and restocking cholesterol pills while Girl Dad Kabir typed tomes about smashing the patriarchy in the group chat, while quoting Barbie. The Greta Gerwig version, obviously.What happens to Girl Dad Kabir then?One remarkable thing did happen that day, though. Unbeknownst to us all, another creature entered the premises just as Baby X opened her eyes Girl Dad Kabir.Daughters afford Girl Dad Kabirs the dopamine hits of instantly being seen as the men they wished they were, not the men they’ve always been and often still are when no one is looking