So I guess it’s all a bit of a cliché, a young gay guy who had a rather less than perfect father ends up attracted to “daddies”. I mean it makes sense right, that frustrating hellish period of puberty where emotions go wild and the lines between everything starts to blur. As you begin your quest of sexual discovery you’re still seeking that older male role model who can act as your mentor, your coach, someone who will teach you how to shave and do your taxes…
I guess in that hellish landscape where nothing makes sense, it’s easy to start seeking someone out who can help make sense of it all and before you know it you’ve blended them into an object of physical, sexual, and romantic attraction.
Next thing you know you’re in your late teens, horny, curious and ready to figure out if you can put these urges to bed or if indeed you are a gay man. I won’t lie, I spent a lot of my teens hoping for the former (classic case of homophobic father) but anyway, I’m 19, spending the summer in London and I start chatting to this man on Grindr. A handsome man in his late 40s who wants to meet. I lie, I say “I’ve done this before”, big mistake. That man had a monster cock and was a Dom Top, but I grin and bear it because, well curiosity killed the cat. Was it amazing, frankly no, but it did set me on a path of discovery that I could never turn back from (and I have met that man twice since in very opposite roles since, so it wasn’t that bad).
So now I’m in my mid 20s with a bit more experience under the belt. I’ve become this sort of daddy hunter, growing my connection of silver foxes and bearded dads. I’ve met lawyers, doctors, plumbers, architects, artists and entrepreneurs, even a few priests, and many many more men from all different walks of life all over the world. I’ve had tender moments where I’ve laid on the grass cuddling a daddy bear as the summer breeze swept over us on the hills of New Zealand. I’ve had kinky moments where I tied a guy’s hands to his wing mirrors when he pulled over and rimmed him on the side of the road. I’ve had scary moments where a guy stole my keys and locked me in his house and refused to let me go until I convinced him I’d fallen in love with him. I’ve also had those moments I looked for all those years ago. The moments where a guy taught me how to groom my beard because I complimented his. Where a guy taught me to bake a great cake, another taught me to drive with a trailer, how to do those basic things in your car, introduced me to the opera, prepped me for interviews, etc…
I may not have had the best father, but I sure have had a lot of great daddies over the years. They’ve come and gone, and some have come back again and again (that’s the gays for you). Some have just been hookups that are vague memories now but a lot of those men still occupy a regular slice of my life. I’ve become a lot more confident in who I am and proud to be it.
These experiences have shown me how the exchange of knowledge and energy in an intergenerational relationship can help the younger guy in a similar way it has for me but also for the mature man, it can lead to a spark of youth, a sort of second wind, but it also gives them the opportunity to pass on what they’ve learned over the years to someone. That sharing of experience is quite a primal thing that’s been done for millions of years between dad and lad for survival and legacy. Seeing the excitement and joy on a man’s face when I’ve wanted his advice or opinion or story, I think they sort of tap into that primal instinct that they might not get elsewhere. Honestly, it’s kind of cute. So go get yourself a daddy or a boy!