First You're Another Sloe-eyed Vamp, Then Someone's Mother, Then You're Camp.

For those of you who are homos of a certain 'vintage', the title above is taken from a song entitled, "I'm Still Here", from, "Follies", a musical with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim and a book by James Goldman. The story of the musical takes place during a reunion of former chorus girls (and their paramours) in a condemned theater, the night before it is torn down. Each of the attendees is, in their own way, looking back on their lives and evaluating where they are, how they got there, and whether or not they would or should have done things differently.

Anyway, the song itself refers to the experience one goes through as one ages. It, the song, popped into my head, especially the line which reads, "...Then you're camp." the other day when I had what seems to be an all to common experience I am having lately when chatting on line.

Wikipedia defines the word camp as, "...an aesthetic sensibility that regards something as appealing or humorous because of its deliberate ridiculousness." My dating life these days is nothing if not a, 'deliberate ridiculousness.'

I don't know what is the experience of other self and publically described 'daddies', but lately too many of the guys who express interest, especially on an Android app called, "GRINDR", after a few exchanges, suddenly start asking if I am 'generous' or if I like to 'spoil' the boys I date. I just don't see myself as someone who has to 'spoil' a boy or be 'generous' just to get laid. As I said in a recent posting, "As to being 'generous', sorry. I am not. While I certainly see nothing wrong with exchanging money for sex, I wouldn't do it, but if that is how someone who chooses to make a living, fine. If there are guys out there who wish to pay for that service, even finer. I am a really, 'live and let live' kind of guy. But doesn't it seem a tad presumptuous to assume because I am an older guy, I must therefore be more than happy to open my wallet so that some young guy will then open his legs or his mouth?"

I am never sure how to take these requests. Should I be flattered? Insulted? Shocked? Or is it something that is normal for older guys to experience. I mean, do I look or seem like a guy who has to pay for sex? I hope not. I mean, for heavens sake, I am only 49. And, while I am not to everybody's taste, I am still considered attractive (I have beautiful eyes, good hair and skin, and my dick, so I am told, still makes an 'impact'.) I have a good job, a nice home, etc. It does make me wonder, though, have I reached the 'camp' stage of my life?

I get that as the 'older' guy in a relationship, I am likely to be more financially stable. This likely means, unlike in a 'regular' couple, when I am dating someone, I will likely pay for more than my share. You know, sort of like in the old days when the men were supposed to pay for dinner, hold out chairs, etc., it just seems 'natural', at least to a certain extent. But there is a difference between paying for things because I want to, as I would in any dating situation, and being expected to, or required to in order to get laid. I mean, I am not interested in subsisting on top romen or drinking PBR. When I travel, I am not interested in sleeping in a hostel on a bunk bed, in a room with five strangers. So, if I want to go out to eat or go on a trip with a guy with more limited resources, I'll have to open my wallet a little bit more than does he. But that is about me making sure I am comfortable, not about me paying to get some tail.

So, I don't know what to think. Are these boys who hit on me on GRINDR really serious when they ask if I am 'generous' or I want to spoil them? Are they really expecting me to buy them presents, or their school books, or pay their rent? And, if so, do other old dudes really pay for these things?

I get that for some guys (both daddies and boys), a little bit of this 'sugar daddy' interplay might add to the kink. I had a friend, for example, with whom many years ago when I lived in Hawaii, we sort of played around with this. He made it more than clear that he found me sexy and thought I was a great lay, but it was also sort of a turn on (for us both) that I'd pay to fly him to Honolulu or the Big Island so we could spend some quality naked time together. It was also completely clear, that this 'sugar-daddying' was just part of our play, neither expected nor required. Almost nearly as often as I'd fly him some place and pay for us to in a hotel, he'd invite me to the island on which he lived and we'd stay at his place, like any typical f*ck buddies.

But, to really 'spoil' someone or be 'generous', I don't think so.

At least, that is what THIS DADDY thinks.


Louis Prima - Just a gigolo

Bottoming 101

As any of you know who read my blog frequently, I am an openly declared, utter and complete top. You also know that I believe that the role of 'top' is a natural part of being a 'daddy', just as I believe that being a bottom is a natural part of being a 'boy'.

Anyway, the blog entry below from a blog entitled, "An Experiment in Truth" is one of the best 'Bottoming 101' instructional guides I've ever seen. As a total top, especially after some of the experiences I've had lately, I can tell you that both the top and bottom in any physical encounter, by following these guidelines, will have a much more enjoyable experience during their time together.

At least, that is what THIS DADDY thinks.

http://anexperimentintruth.blogspot.com/2012/01/bottoming-101.hhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.giftml by Konstantine, author of the blog, "An Experiment in Truth", posted Tuesday, 10 January 2012


Mike Helms and the Nefarious Clydes' Perform 'Bottoms Up'
Live at Dantes' on 12-6=08'
at the SmoochKnob' Robots and Nusrses Ball'

The Emotional Hornies

Back in the day when I taught, as a volunteer, dating at an agency devoted to reducing the transmission of HIV (ironic, isn't it...but you've heard that old expression, "those who can't do, teach") and providing support to those in the community dealing with HIV, one of the topics of the course was, 'skin hunger'. That is, the need, bordering on compulsion, to touch and be touched. This need often drives people to involve themselves in situations in which they might risk having unsafe sex, just to get 'touched'. Personally, when I feel an intense bout of the hornies, I refer to it as, "feeling like a cat on a hot tin roof."

Being recently (well, it has been since August, so I guess not so recently at this point) single, I have really been experience the 'emotional hornies.' Like any guy, I get the skin hunger, I mean, I may be old (49) but my parts still work and boy do they enjoy doing so. That said, having been in a loving, long-term relationship that was monogamous (well, essentially so) for an extended period, the thing I miss most is the emotional intimacy and connection. Don't get me wrong, the sex with Sam was great. He is a good kisser. I love the feel of the soft skin on his back. He has really nice feet (a priority for me) and an amazing ass. Of course, he was (another thing being a big priority for me) a total bottom who loved to call me 'daddy' during certain 'intimate' moments. All together, our sex life was quite wonderful.

For all the great sex, the key component most missing for me with the end of that relationship is the emotional stuff. I am very paternal. I enjoy nothing more than having someone about whom to care and worry. Sam would often accuse me of acting like a Jewish mother (the stereotype of one, I mean). If I didn't hear from him or if he was late, etc. (I am an early to be guy, he likes to stay out until all hours), I'd always fret. It wasn't that I was worried that he was cheating or that I was jealous or anything like that, it was that I was worried he was lying in a ditch somewhere, or had been in an accident (driving, not something at which Sam excels), or had been mugged or whatever nonsensical experience my mind would conger. As much as I loathe the idea that I have anything in common with my mother, or that we share any traits, I get this worrisome nature from her. I am 49 years old. I've been on my own since the age of 17 when I joined the Navy. I have traveled all over the world. I have lived, for extended periods, in foreign countries, yet, if I go away for a few days for either work or pleasure, if I don't call her first thing to let her know I've arrived safely, she has a hemorrhage. She thinks by being so worried, she is showing a form of love. I guess I do the same thing.

Although many people with whom I have a casual acquaintance would find it doubtful, I have an overwhelming need to 'love' and an abundance of love to give. Most people, especially those with whom I work, find me to be an unmitigated prick. I often hear how intimidating I am or that my tone or bluntness is off-putting. The reasons: I tolerate fools lightly; and, I have a really hard time not letting someone know I neither like them nor respect them. I hear all the time, "I didn't like you at first. And many, upon meeting you, would not believe that you are such a lovable and loving person, but if someone takes the trouble to look past your gruff exterior, they'd find you have a very big heart and a kind spirit."

When I am chatting, looking at profiles, or reviewing personal ads, I see comments such as, "I just want someone to love me" or "I just want to be worthy of being loved". Okay, I can appreciate wanting those things, but for me it is the 'doing' the loving that is more fulfilling, not the being loved. Trust me, not having been cared about as a child, I've sort of gotten used to not being loved. But, and I think this is directly proportional to that lack of love I received as a child, it is vital me to be 'loving' to others and to give that love to others. I think that is one reason why I am such a dog person. A former roommate used to tell me, "you love that stupid dog too much." So instead of, "I love you", I often tend, when talking to or about the dog, say, "I love you too much." or if I am mad at her I say, "I don't love you too much right now." My dog is a royal pain in the ass. She can make it very hard to love her. But, I do. And yes, truthfully, I love her too much. It is my way. It is, as they say, 'better to give and to receive.'

So, of all the things I miss about having been in a relationship and the think about which I worry most that I'll not experience is the opportunity to love someone again. I have a friend, for the purposes of this essay, we'll call him, 'Jack.' We couldn't be more different, yet this is one quality, having an abundance of love to give and preferring to give it over receiving love in return, we share in common. Like me, Jack has always dated younger guys. He is about, oh, 12 or 14 years older than I am, so he's been at it for a lot longer than I. After many years of being in a rather turbulent, though loving relationship, his partner died. When that happened, Jack decided that, at his age and with his preference for younger, masculine guys who like fishing and camping and such limiting his options, he would forgo dating. Oh, he still enjoys sex, or so he says, but it has just become more of an occasional 'transaction' than anything with the potential to become a loving relationship. Being such a loving man, though, he still needs an outlet for this abundance of love. His choice: at 60, he became a father. Okay, it isn't what you are thinking. He didn't impregnate some chick, or adopt a kid or anything that drastic. While traveling in the 3rd world, he met a younger man which whom he struck up a platonic friendship. Knowing or not, this young man seemed in search of a mentor, friend and father figure. Through happenstance, Jack became that for this young man. No sex, it was clear from the beginning that the younger man was straight and had no interest in Jack sexually or romantically. But it was also clear that he had a hole in his life when it came to having a father-figure or mentor or adviser, etc. Sitting on this overabundance of love, wanting to 'release it’; Jack made the decision to become that person for the younger man. At this point, Jack lives in the 3rd world country, is recognized as the 'patron' of the younger man's family. Jack treats the family, and they respond in kind, as if the elder male head of the family. They defer to him, seek his advice and support. And he gives these things, and love, to them in abundance. Perhaps a tad unorthodox, sure, but real, and according to Jack, quite fulfilling.

I am not there, boys and girls. I doubt I ever could be. First, I still believe that one deserves a healthy sex and romantic life, no matter at what age. Second, I loathe children (Jack's new family includes several young children, those of the younger man and his siblings). Third, that is not the kind of love I seek to give, at least not yet. Perhaps with time, though I doubt it. I am not close to my 'real' family, so it is very hard to imagine me becoming a surrogate parent, adopted or otherwise to others.

So, at the moment I am having a bad case of the emotional blue balls. Frustrating, just like the real thing, but there it is. Reasonable or not (for me), I'd still like to find a 'romantic' outlet for all of this love I have to share. It just isn't happening. Okay, I expect to receive a chorus of comments insisting that if I just changed to whom I was attracted, I'd have options all over the place. But, I can't. Like forming a surrogate family, entering into a passionless relationship, wouldn't fulfill the need I have. Sure, it might provide companionship and someone to care for me in my rapidly approaching twilight years, but it wouldn't be enough. To be honest, for companionship, I have the dog.

At least, that is what THIS DADDY thinks.



Elephant, from 9, the second studio album by Irish singer, songwriter and producer Damien Rice, released in 2006.

The Conversation Conundrum

So, just what is, "The Conversation Conundrum", well for the purposes of this entry, it is, "To respond to an IMs or emails from someone completely inappropriate(i.e. not someone you are trying to attract) or to not respond, when online."

If you've read my stuff before, you know that I primarily socialize in the online realm. You can read the myriad other posts I've written on the subject. I take great care to socialize on sites that cater to older/younger relationships and I try to write very clear and concise profiles. When I am on those sites, I also go out of my way to steer clear of guys for whom I would clearly not appear to be their type. If someone only wants to chat with other younger guys, or smooth guys, or muscle guys, etc., I don't bother them, as I am not any of those things. In fact, even when it is unclear, I tend to come down on the side of discretion. I don't want to be wasting some guy's time or my own. I mean, isn't the online arena designed for listing specifically who it is you seek, what you have to offer, and what type of interaction it is in which you wish to participate?

Anyway, as I've stated before, no matter what I say, how specific I am, how pointed is my nick, etc. I mostly receive IM's or emails from guys who couldn't be further from 'my type'. I don't understand why, but that is the case. I am deluged with IM's and emails from chubby, hairy guys, who look like they are in their 50's. Nothing wrong with guys like that, nothing at all. Just not the type of guy with whom I am looking to chat or with whom I seek a sexual or romantic connection. And let's face it. Isn't that what most of these online sites are for, hooking up, daring, romance?

I've tried different things at different times to try and counter this disconnect, to no avail. I've even talked to my friends and my therapist to seek their advise as to what it is I should do, to clarify who I am, what type of guy it is I seek, and to slow the deluge of the 'wrong' kind of guys. Sigh, nothing seems to work. Originally, it seemed like there were only two options:

1)Be rude and tell the inappropriate guys to bug off in some form or another; or,
2)Ignore the IM's and emails.

Both to me seem equally rude. Granted, not as rude as IMing or emailing someone who clearly isn't going to be interested, but still, rude. And you know me, as an officer and a gentleman, I try to avoid overtly ungentlemanly behavior. Believe it or not, I really do try. While trying to decide how to handle these unwanted IM's and emails, I came up with a third option: simply asking the question, "Have you read my profile?" I figured, it wasn't rude to ask such a question. It is short, to the point. It wastes neither my time nor theirs. It also seemed far less rude than simply ignoring people wishing to chat. I thought, 'hey, I'll ask, guys will take a moment to read my profile, if they haven't already done so, and get that we don't have complimentary interests and then move on to others with whom they do. I don't have to be rude, I am not wasting their time or my own, simple". Alas, not so much,.

Below is an example of a recent experience I had when I tried asking the question, 'Have you read my profile?' of someone whom IM'd me on SCRUFF. Alex is, according to his profile picture, is a 40-ish chub/bear. Other than saying he likes to play tennis, he doesn't say what it is he seeks in his profile. Me, on the other hand, posts a picture, provides a description and says in the section called, 'What I am looking for', "I am an opposites attract guy. A total top, I am older, short, hairy, an opposite is generally a younger, taller, non bear..."

Here is how the conversation went:

January 1, 2012, 1:48PM on SCRUFF, from Alex, "Hi."
January 1, 2012, 2:48PM on SCRUFF, from Commander, "Alex, did you read my profile?"
January 1, 2012, 4:49PM on SCRUFF, from Alex, "Yes."
January 1, 2012, 5:18PM on SCRUFF, from Alex, "What's wrong with saying hello to someone who has a few things in their profile that seem interesting? I'm a successful, happy- go- lucky, good person who doesn't need your any of your bullshit just for saying hello. If you don't want people to say hello to you unless they meet certain guidelines, then just block me or don't say hello back. Learn some etiquette and don't be so rude."

Whoa! First, he describes himself as, "happy-go-lucky". And second, he says, "If you don't want people to say hello to you unless they meet certain guidelines..." Thirdly he says, "Learn some etiquette and don't be so rude."

Okay, let's take these in order, shall we? First, based on his response, he is hardly, 'happy-go-lucky". Clearly, he doesn't know what that expression means. Second, I thought I said pretty specifically what type of guy it was with whom I sought to communicate in my profile. I mean, isn't that the whole point of answering the, "What I am looking for" question? And thirdly, again, whoa! He is the one that doesn't seem to get how online socializing works. It seems to me that the etiquette would be to not ping on someone who isn't seeking what you offer and that it is rude to then flame them when they politely point this out. To me nothing, and I repeat nothing is worse than wasting someone's time.

I've had similar experiences when I've simply tried either option 1 or 2. There is a guy from China. on GRINDr, for example, who IM's me every time he sees me online. Except to suggest that I am not a good option for chatting, I've mostly avoided responding to him, yet I've received over 46 IM's from since December 20, 2011. 46? I mean, doesn't he have better things to do than to IM me? On Silverdaddies, there is a guy who also IM's me every time he sees me online. He's been doing it for years. I've told him repeatedly, I am not interested in chatting, sometimes very rudely, and I have made it abundantly clear that I don't feel the need to explain why it is I don't find chubby, 60-ish guys who wear panties appealing. Still he IM's me every time he sees I am online, and he asks me that same question over and over again. I wonder if he drinks, or perhaps has a little bit of dementia?

So, it seems like I can't win. I don't like being rude, but the direct approach doesn't seem to work. and ignoring unwanted IM's and emails also doesn't seem to work. My third option, simply asking, "Did you read my profile", my attempt to politely point guys back to my profile, well, that doesn't work either.

Look, I get it. There are lots of lonely guys out there. Trust me, I get it big time. I still miss Sam, though he's been gone since August, and I've only been on two dates since he left, both total disasters. But what I don't get is guys who waste their time attempting to communicate with those not interested. I just don't. Rejection hurts. I mean, it hurts me, so I assume it hurts others. We also all get enough rejection handed to us on a daily basis. Why in the heck would we subject ourselves to even more rejection? It makes no sense whatsoever.

At least, that is what THIS DADDY thinks.




Jethro Tull- Conundrum (live), from the album Bursting Out

I Don't Want Him, You Can Have Him, He's Too Fat For Me

Dictionary.com defines the work, "Churlish" as,

"churl·ish, adjective

1. like a churl; boorish; rude: churlish behavior."

As an officer and a gentleman, I try to avoid being churlish. That said, I had an experience recently, on Halloween, that made me wonder if I was exhibiting churlish behavior.

I don't know about you, but when I am struggling to make social connections (new friends, go on dates, etc.) I always tend to think, "wouldn't it be nice if one of my friends had someone cute with whom to fix me up." Or, "wouldn't it be nice if someone would invite me to a party, or to church, or to a rugby match, so that I can perhaps meet some new people." If your experience has been like mine, you know these things rarely happen.

Well, for me, it did finally. A fellow I'd never met, but had chatted with occasionally on line sent me the following email, "We've talked before. Always have struck me as a cool guy. I'm not your type but I wanted to invite you to a Halloween party on Saturday at my house. Should be 50-75 people. Gay and straight, some with costumes and some without. Let me know if you wanna come and ill (sic) send you the address. "

At first I was a little nervous. I mean, I asked myself, "what if this is some sort of religious thing?" Or, "what if this is a joke?" Or, "What if it is a sales thing, like some soft of pyramid scheme?" After these fleeting thoughts, I decided I was going to look on the bright side. I was going to assume it was an authentic invitation sent by a kindly soul. I am glad I decided to go the positive route. Because, that my friends, is exactly how it turned out. It was a huge costume party over flowing with food, booze, and guys.

Well here is where the question of churlishness appears: it turned out to be a bears only party. As I've oft mentioned, I am an opposites attract kind of guy. Bears are not, I mean NOT my thing at all. In other places I've lived or to where I've traveled, bears and their admirers mix. My friend Ryan (a major admirer, trust me) goes to bear events all up and down the coast of sunny California and he, and his posse of other admirers are always the bells of the ball. In Seattle, though, this rarely if ever happens.

First, as I mentioned above, Seattle is a bear town. So even the younger guys tend to be stocky, balding, hairy, sporting goatees and beards. Second, in Seattle bears are only 'allowed' to socialize with other bears. The bear community here is only open to bears, bearish cubs, or chubs. I hear constantly from the few younger non-bearish guys here that they like bears, they like them a lot, but none of the local bears will pay them any attention. If you've read other pieces I've written, you also heard of my experiences at receiving flaming IM's and emails from guys insisting that since I am stocky and hairy, I am 'expected' to be attracted to that kind of guy and that is the only kind of guy I deserve to date. Sorry, flamers, but ick! Not my thing at all. Let me also repeat, as I've written before, I don't think I am all that. I don't think I should only date 10's. I do believe, however, that at nearly 50, I know what makes Mr. Happy smile and what doesn't. I am not saying bearish guys are not attractive, nice, smart, funny, etc. I am only saying that I don't find the appealing. As we say in the Navy, "I wouldn't fuck a bear with your dick." I will say that of the 200+ people that were there during the hour I was there, there were 4 cute guys (i.e. my kind of cute: non-bearish). One, a former semi-regular fuckbuddy. One a muscle boy. One attending with his boyfriend and another waiting for his boyfriend to arrive. How do I know these things? Well the former fuck buddy stopped by to say, "hello" than ran off to get a drink. The other guys, I happened to over hear enough of their conversations to learn these things. When you spend an hour standing by yourself in a corner, it is sort of hard not to over hear stuff. I mean, what else are you gonna do?

So, am I being churlish for being disappointed it was a bear party? Perhaps. It was very sweet and thoughtful of the host to invite me, sight unseen. That sort of kindness should happen more often. I am both glad and thankful to have been invited. I am also proud of myself that I made myself take a social risk and go to a party about which I knew little. I was completely uncomfortable and totally out of my social depth. I made myself promise no matter what, I'd stay for at least an hour and I did.

So what do I mean by being 'proud' of myself. For someone who has a very powerful persona (as a professional actor I have 'stage presence. I am also a military officer. Additionally, I've been told repeatedly that I intimidate people with my loud and distinctive voice and my blunt talk), I am actually quite shy and socially awkward. I just don't have the social 'gene'. Give me command of a watch team, where I am large and in charge and I am inspiring. Put me up on a stage, and I will charm the pants off of you. Sit me down at a church, social event, etc. where I am surrounded by a bunch of strangers, and I am a total disaster. My lack of a social gene is something I work to overcome; ergo, being invited to the party was a step towards improving this social anxiety. Of course, it is also true that the whole hour I was there only 3 people spoke to me: the host; the former fuck buddy; and the muscle boy, who commented on my T-shirt.

I've also written of late about getting thinking about trying to date again. An acquaintance asked me the other day, "why are you thinking about dating, when you are clearly still hung up on your ex-boyfriend?" An interesting question. My response, "I've deserve to have some kind of social life, don't I? I know it is too soon for anything 'serious', that isn't what I seek anyway. But I can't spend all of my time hanging out with my dog at the little house down by the big lake, now can I?" Disclaimer: I am still hung up on Sam, the big dork. I'd be lying to you and to myself if I didn't admit that. The spoiled, ill-mannered, and quite insane mongrel with whom I share the little house near the big lake miss Uncle Sam terribly. So between my social awkwardness and still being hung up on Sam, I appear to be stuck.

I think we all deserve a social life. I'd like to think that I do as much as anybody else. Yet, it (a bear party) was clearly not my 'thing.' I have to admit, lately I've been pondering if I truly know what is my 'thing'. Can I really be nearly 50 year old (I turned 49 in October) and still be this shy and awkward? I guess I can. My therapist and I talked about this the other day. He commented that perhaps my 'thing' just isn't like that of others, and I shouldn't expect it to be. He asserted that by expecting to a more social creature, and not being so, I just end up making myself be disappointed? Maybe he is right. Still, it gets kind of boring being in bed alone every Saturday night by 2130. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy time alone and I love both the little house near the big lake and my crazy dog. It would, however, be nice if my time alone was more something I chose, rather than something foisted upon me by circumstance.

Sometimes dealing with the 'monster' we know, as evil as it might be, seems safer than the monster we don't. Sometimes we allow ourselves to be stuck in old, ineffective patterns which, while comfortable, are not conducive to the healthiest or happiest of experiences. Can I miss Sam (and secretly wish he'd come home) and still go on the occasional date? Yes! Of course that would have to find someone with whom I wanted to go on a date and who wanted to go a date with me. Anyway. Should I continue to accept the occasional social invitation, even if it isn't my thing? Yes! Should I try and not have churlish thoughts and find away to enjoy such experiences, even they are not my 'thing?" Yes!

At least, that is what THIS DADDY thinks.

So This is Why So Many 'Full Figured' Guys Use the Word, "Masculine" to Describe Themselves

Data from the current study supports this theory. Age, height, weight and hairiness are indicators of masculinity. Older, hairier, taller and more solid men are considered to be more masculine than younger, smoother, shorter and lighter men. Data from the current study suggests that Only Tops seek out sexual partners with less masculine features, while Only Bottoms seek out sexual partners with more masculine features. One might suggest that Only Tops seek out sexual partners with feminine qualities while Only Bottoms seek out sexual partners with masculine qualities.

Beyond Tops and Bottoms
Correlations between Sex-Role Preference and
Physical Preferences for Partners among Gay Men
By Nicholas Yee (www.nickyee.com)

Opposites attract, now don't they?

At least that is what THIS DADDY thinks

It Goes Without Saying...but I Might as Well

The Daily Beast

Sep 29, 2011 12:11 AM EDT

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2011/09/29/ashton-kutcher-demi-moore-split-15-statistics-on-couples-far-apart-in-age.html

Do Cougar Couples Survive?

7. Gay men who identify as “bottoms”—preferring receptive anal intercourse—are twice as likely to desire partners 10 years older than themselves as partners 10 years younger.

In the study that yielded this statistic, 11.6 percent of “bottoms” desired partners at least 10 years older; 4.7 percent of “bottoms” desired partners at least 10 years younger. Also in this study, twice as many “tops”—men who prefer insertive anal intercourse—desired partners 10 years younger than themselves as 10 years older. “Critics may point out that maybe Bottoms who prefer older partners become Tops who prefer younger partners as they get older, or that Tops in general are older than Bottoms,” notes the researcher who presented this data.

Nicholas Yee. “Beyond Tops and Bottoms: Correlations Between Sex-Role Preference and Physical Preferences for Partners Among Gay Men.” Independent research project (PDF)

See, haven't I been saying that intergenerational dating is perfectly natural? And, of course, haven't I always insisted that Daddy = TOP and boy = bottom? Not that I needed it, but it is nice to have 'proof.' Sigh. To quote that famous philosopher, Lily Tomlin, "I'm a tree, I can bend." Being right so often is a heavy burden to bear, but for you, dear readers, I am willing to shoulder that burden.

Isn't science a wonderful thing?

At least, that is what THIS DADDY thinks.

Ain't No Sunshine When He's Gone

Ninety days ago, 16 August 2011 my (former) young man moved to the East Coast for graduate school. The lyrics to this song match my mood today. The little house near the big lake just ain't the same without the big dork.

Ain't no sunshine when he's gone
It's not warm when he's away
Ain't no sunshine when he's gone
And he's always gone too long anytime he goes away

Wonder this time where he's gone
Wonder if he's gone to stay
Ain't no sunshine when he's gone
And this house just ain't no home
Anytime he goes away

And I know, I know, I know, I know
I know, I know, I know, I know
I know, I know, I know, I know
I know, I know, I know, I know
I know, I know, I know, I know
I know, I know, I know, I know
I know, I know

Hey I'll leave the young things alone
But ain't no sunshine when he's gone
Ain't no sunshine when he's gone
Only darkness everyday

Ain't no sunshine when he's gone
And this house just ain't no home
Anytime he goes away
Anytime he goes away
Anytime he goes away
Anytime he goes away

"Ain't No Sunshine" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ain%27t_No_Sunshine), lyric and music by Bill Withers from his 1971 album Just as I Am, produced by Booker T. Jones.

Mawkish though it might be, to paraphrase how I always end my posts, "At least, that is how THIS DADDY feels."




http://evacassidy.org/eva/

You're So Vain...

I'll bet you think this blog is about you, you're so vain...." Come on, sing along, you know the words.

Recently, while listening to "Fresh Air" on NPR, I heard an interview with an author who was on her third (count them: one, two, three) memoir. Really? Is anybody's life so important that they have to write three different books about it? If so, do people actually want to read that stuff? I guess so, I mean, she keeps getting published.

I was pondering the reasons today for why it is that I write this blog. Like writing a memoir, I think blogging by its very nature is a very egocentric act. I mean, for heaven sake, does anybody really care about what is going on the blogger's life? And, if so, why? Don't get me wrong, I am glad that people read what I write, and I certainly hope that my readers derive some pleasure in doing so. Still, by writing a blog and hoping folks will read it, am I acting like an egomaniac? Wait, don't answer that.

Originally I started this blog space as a 'rant space'. It didn't have a name or a particular topic area. It was merely a place where I could write rants and ruminations on a variety of topics. It was never intended to be read by anybody.

Then, as I continued to write, the blog morphed into something less about ranting and more about positivity. Daddyhunt, a website I visit frequently, asked for folks interested in writing for them to provide samples of their work. Never expecting anything to come of it, I did so. That got to rethink the purpose of this blog, made me want to make it more thematic, give it a name, etc. As DH wanted their articles generally be positive and upbeat, I started really concentrating on making sure my pieces were positive and affirming. It was, however, very important to me that my writing be authentic. Readers can spot a hypocrite a mile away. As I found myself happy in life, it was easy to write pieces that were both positive and yet authentic at the same time. As I began to appreciate my life more (new home, new love, new job), the blog's 'perkiness' and 'upbeatedness' seemed to increase. No more ranting for THIS DADDY. Life was good. If I, never anybody's idea of Sister Mary Sunshine, could be happy, then by golly others could to. The focus became rather about commenting on the 'goodness' of life, acceptance of aging, finding love unexpectedly, etc.

Lately, though, things have been different. I've noticed that as I experience my current 'dark' time (i.e. my recent break up with the boy I love; losing the job I enjoyed so much; worrying about paying my mortgage; finding out I am diabetic, etc.), my writing has lost a lot of its 'perkiness'. It is awfully hard to be perky when going through a time like this. So that brings me to back around to what started this rumination: do people actually want to read this stuff?

I get what it is I derive from writing. It allows me to express myself. It allows me to, or so my therapist tells me, 'connect' with the outside world in a new way. It allows me to better understand that different though we all might be, we share many, many life experiences in common.

But what is it that you, my readers, get from reading stuff? I can't answer that. What I can say is that I am glad that you take the time to read what it is that I write, perky or not. God that sounds so self centered. I don't mean that in the 'what I have to say is so important people should read and heed my every jot and tittle'. Trust me, I may be one opinionated dude, but I don't think I know everything there is to know and that my way of thinking or my beliefs have any validity other than to me.

I mean to say, 'Thank you'. If you take the time to read, "Buck Up, Princess', I hope you derive some pleasure from having done so. I hope reading it encourages you to think about experiences in your life which we all share. I hope the blog makes you ponder these shared experiences and helps you realize that you aren't alone. As dopey as this sounds, we really are all in this life together.

Not that I think you should care or anything, but I really am a happier man than I have historically been. I really do like my gray hair. I really am able to appreciate life in ways I'd never have though possible a decade ago. At the moment, my life sucks, and I am sure this is evident in my writings. I also know that life will get good again.

I hope you find, "Buck Up, Princess" authentic, during the perky and the not so perky times. And I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy sitting down and writing it. And, while not always agreeing with what I say or how I think, I hope you find it worth the time it takes to read it. If you want to share your reasons for reading my blog, please do. If you want to ping on me about something I say or something you think I shouldn't have said, please do. Life is better when you share it with others. And, "Buck Up, Princess' is one way to do this.

At least, that is what THIS DADDY thinks.

The Look of Love

Have you ever noticed that when people are in love, when they talk to each other (either on the phone, via SKYPE, or in person), they get a goofy look on their faces and their voices change? I used to work with this very brusque, completely professional female Navy officer. Whenever her love slave would call our office, suddenly her voice would drop, and she'd turn into something akin to a purring sex kitten. She'd go from, "Good morning, LCDR V speaking. This is a non-secure line. How may I help you?" in a clipped, totally professional voice to, "Hellllooooooooo, this is Renee, baby" sounding like a combination of Eartha Kitt and Kathleen Turner. It used to make me giggle every time I'd hear it happen. Admit it. We've all done something similar.

Or, have you ever caught yourself calling a former flame by the pet name you used when you were together? Not to ruin my butch, military officer persona, but Michael N was, 'Sweat Pea'. Derek H was, 'Pumpkin'. Paul G was, 'Sweetie'. Sam G was, 'baby'. Gross, I know. Almost as nauseating as that, 'Seinfeld' episode where Gerry and each other constantly referred to each other as, 'Shmoopy'. Anyway, is continuing to sometimes and slip and use a former lover's pet name healthy or even appropriate?

I've been thinking about these behaviors a lot lately, especially following SKYPE conversations with my (now former) young man. When we chat, it seems to me, anyway, we both get these dopey smiles on our faces that people who love each other get. We each seem clearly happy to be both chatting and seeing each other. Most of the time one or the other of us has to make up an excuse for the call to end, because neither seems to want it to do so. I still catch myself sometimes thinking of him as, 'my sweet baboo'. Granted, I never called him that to his face when we were together (a joking reference to what Sally calls Linus in, "Peanuts"), but I'd often think of him, using that term in my mind. If you haven't noticed, I do have a rather odd sense of humor. Or, when talking to the crazy border collie with whom I share the little house near the big lake, I still refer to him as, "Uncle Sam".

I am not sure how to feel about me performing these behaviors. Is it normal to act like this? Is it healthy? Is it appropriate? I mean, maybe I am imagining that he enjoys seeing me and chatting with me as much as I do seeing and chatting with him. Granted, when we were together he grew a beard which he knew I hated (even though it didn't look bad on him at all, I just don't like facial hair on the guys I date and to me, he is beautiful, no matter what) it and now, since he's gone, he's finally shaved off the damned thing, which makes me a tad grumpy. He even got really defensive when I pointed this out to him, claiming having had the beard wasn't to be defiant. Sure, I believe that. I know to him our time together is a distant but pleasant piece of nostalgia (he even uses that word when talking about us). To me, however, it remains more than that. Do I know our time together is over, yes. Do I expect him to ever return to Seattle, no. Still.....

When a relationship ends, I think most folks, unless the relationship was a bad one, miss the person as much as they do the mere fact of having had a relationship. I clearly miss being in a relationship. I think by my nature I am a 'marrying' kind of guy. Before Sam, I was in a relationship with a guy for 10 years. To this day, we are still (sort of) friends. He only lives 80 feet away (trust me, there is a very good reason for that, as I tell him, "My house has two bathrooms and a view of the lake, yours doesn't!), we even still share keys to our houses. I still slip sometimes and call him, 'sweatie.'

That said, in this case, as different from my past, it seems clear it is way more him that I miss. Sure I miss having someone to share my day with at bedtime; someone with whom to go out for breakfast; someone to leave his dirty socks in inappropriate places strewn throughout my house. I miss how beautiful are his eyes. I miss touching the soft skin on his back. I miss how affectionate was he. We fit together like a puzzle, for example, when laying on my couch watching TV. I miss how he used to climb up on my lap and straddle me, just to hold me and be held by me while hanging out in the living room of the little house by the big lake. He was the first person to actually call me, 'baby' and have it sound perfectly natural. But way more than those things (and myriad others), I just miss the big dork himself.

So, healthy or not, he is still (at least a little), 'Uncle Sam.' He still remains, at least in a small way, 'my sweet baboo.' Maybe to some extent he always will, just like Derek will always be, 'Pumpkin' and Paul will always be, 'Sweetie'. Each time you love someone, it is special and unique. Each time you love someone, it deserves to be honored and respected for this uniqueness. Rightly or wrongly, this is one way that I do this.

At least, that is what, 'This Daddy' thinks.