The school run is the worst. At first, being one of the few dads in the playground was a novelty. Mums introduced themselves – the usual chat about this party, that fundraiser, the Woodcraft Folk club (we're very liberal, middle class around here). Then, when the kids were dropped off by their other dad a few times, there was the slow realisation and the gradual retreat. Offers of playdates were declined, chats shrank to a quick, embarrassed, "Morning" or a total blank from someone who had been friendly. I realise we're an unknown quantity, but surely we're not that scary? So what if I occasionally fancy one of the other dads? It's no different from them eyeing up a yummy mummy on the sly, is it?

The snubs hurt, and I'm ashamed to say I've stopped speaking to the other parents. Now I'm the unfriendly one.

Most of our neighbours are the same. We moved from our city flat to a house and large garden in suburbia in the hope that our kids might have a childhood like ours – full of friends, fun and freedom – but we are largely ignored. Our two children play in splendid isolation, and my heart bleeds for them.

We're a happy family and the kids love having two dads (as well as their birth mum, whom we see regularly ). It makes them feel special. It's the taunts from others they don't understand. We tell them people are scared of what they don't know. But I do wish people would put aside prejudice, for their sake if not ours.

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