Divorced Dad 2: Friday Freedom by BlueCollarBaldy

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Matt got up early the next morning, running a hand over his head and expecting smooth scalp, but instead feeling sandpapery stubble starting to grow back. He got up to go to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, then shaved his head until it was smooth like last night. Then he got ready for the gym, prepped his protein shake and a thermos of vantablack coffee, then packed the things he’d need for the day: his work clothes and some other work-related paraphernalia, personal hygiene products, and a new addition: a foil shaver for touch-ups. He tossed his hair pomade into the trash because, well, he didn’t have hair anymore, so he didn’t need it.

Matt ran into the early morning regulars at the gym—a couple of buddies he’d been working out and having heart-to-hearts with for years now, but didn’t even know what their names were. They almost dropped their weights on themselves when Matt took off his baseball cap. He got a kick out of the looks on their faces and all the laughs and head rubs that followed. After a good workout, Matt took a shower, got dressed, and went to work.

Matt got to work early, ready for it to be the weekend already. The reactions were what he’d expected—the dropping of jaws, then after picking them up off the floor, a lot of good-natured bald jokes, laughter, head rubs, and the occasional head slap. Even his stick-up-his-butt boss—who was a baldy himself, though not by choice—gave him a nod of approval. The bald head was a hit. He had a few minutes to spare during his lunch break, so he got in his truck and touched up his head with the foil shaver before he went back to work. Before he knew it, it was almost the weekend.

Matt left work earlier than usual, but he had good reason. He made the drive back to LO to pick Noah up from school, and, well, his reaction to his new haircut (or lack thereof) was exactly what he expected.

"Dad! What happened to your hair?" his eight-year-old asked with excitement in his eyes.

"Well," Matt grinned, catching his son’s excitement, "my hair was slowing me down, so I swapped it out for something lighter and more aerodynamic."

"Whoa! Can I touch it?" Noah asked eagerly.

"You sure can, Bud," Matt happily obliged, lowering his head closer toward his son. With an eager hand, Noah rubbed his dad’s bald head. He thought it was the coolest thing ever. It was so shiny, just like a droid. And it felt really good too, almost like his bike helmet, only warm and kind of slimy, but the fun kind of slimy.

Matt stopped by the store, picking up some essentials, and of course, as the cool dad he was, a new Lego Star Wars set for his son as a reward for doing so well in school even with everything going on (and secretly for himself too). But most notable were the shaving supplies filling the shopping cart. Matt got a kick out of the glances he was getting walking through the store with a cartful of razors and shaving cream, and Noah had questions of his own.

Noah looked at all his dad’s shaving stuff. There must’ve been enough for a whole clan of Wookiees! "What do you need so much shaving cream and razors for, Dad? Are you gonna shave your beard too?" he asked.

"No, Bud. The beard’s not going anywhere," Matt chuckled. He’d won the title of ‘best beard’ at work nine years running, now gunning for a tenth with no signs of stopping.

"Are you gonna shave all your fur?" Noah asked again, petting his dad’s furry arm. Noah was convinced his dad was part-Wookiee. He had to be!

"Dad would need *a lot* more razors and shaving cream for that," Matt chuckled. ‘How many razors would it take to shave Matthew Miller?’ he did wonder.

"Oh, I know!" Noah exclaimed. "Are you gonna shave *me*?" he asked excitedly.

Matt laughed at the thought of his son looking like some kind of hairless cryptid or something. Now *that* would be weird.

For dinner, Matt picked up some pizzas—two extra large, extra meaty Hawaiians for the pineapple-on-pizza-loving weirdos—and a large order of buffalo wings on the way home. Noah’s health-nut mom would’ve freaked out seeing what his (in Amanda’s words) "fatso" dad was feeding him. Rebellion never tasted so good. And greasy.

They got home later that afternoon and Matt laid down the ground rules: be safe, be respectful, and be… who was he kidding? Responsibilities? What were those? Homework was a Sunday afternoon problem. Matt was the cool dad, after all. His only other rule was to be yourself. And lights out when he said so (so that he could have some me time and play video games).

They had "dinner" (using that term loosely) on the couch. Matt put on a Star Wars movie marathon, which had become something of a Friday night tradition for them—complete with Matt’s nerdy, know-it-all commentary, trivia night, and even live, interactive reenactments of the best lightsaber duels.

Afterward, they cleaned up the mess they’d made, Matt helped settle his son into the apartment for the weekend, and then they washed themselves up. They took turns in the bathroom, with Matt going after Noah. Between all the puddles, Noah shedding everywhere, and Noah apparently not knowing how to lift up the toilet seat, Matt was reminded of just how messy having a wild animal for a kid was—that’s how he knew Noah was his. After a long, well-deserved shower, Matt shaved his head, as was his usual "hair routine" now, and came out of the bathroom feeling like a brand new man.

The rest of that evening was quiet, or at least as quiet as it could get with the boys playing Minecraft together. Matt was such a cool dad that he let him stay up not just one, but a whopping *two* extra hours past his bedtime. It was Friday night after all, so why not? Well, Noah didn’t make it very far into the night, even if he wanted to. He fell asleep on his dad’s lap. Matt carried him to bed and kissed him goodnight, careful not to wake him up.

‘Finally,’ he thought. Matt loved his son, but he loved his me time too. He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and a few slices of leftover pizza, then sat down to do some gaming of his own. His apartment was his own again, at least for the rest of the night.

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