daddy.

It has been bothering me all quarantine, staying in my father’s home for the first time in a decade. For a man who’s genetics made me, he did not stay around to raise me. It’s crazy. And yet weirdly sane for my community.

It has become commonplace for men to leave the home when staying with the mother of their children is a pain. Disturbingly easy actually. And while it saved me from being smothered by the controlling nature of my father, this is not always the case. Let me explain:

In the movie Liar Liar, there is a case where the woman is awarded custody of the children when she does not like being a mother. It is painfully obvious to everyone but they turn a blind eye to it. And that scene showed so much disrespect to the father to me. That father loved being a daddy.

My father is not a daddy to me.

I think I mentioned one of the few things my father said to me that was profound to 9-year-old me: never treat anyone better than family. This statement came after I had done something mildly mean. I think it was something along the lines of bullying my brother publicly. After this statement, my father bullied me and ruined my birthday by showing me my gifts and putting them in the closet for three months. It was borderline ridiculous and deeply insidious.

By the time the hostage situation ended, I barely wanted the gifts. Of the two items, it was the watch, a Beauty and the Beast flip top, that I really miss. The doll was ruined by my peers so I was over it. And yet, as the parent, he chose to do this. And it made me think about him and his existence. If he is family and he treats family like this, why would I want it? And if we create a society where boys are treasured but can walk away from their responsibilities and still make all the money, what does that say to men exactly?

So as I remain jobless waiting for the economy to begin to want me, I really had to review if I wanted a daddy.

It was my last relationship where I had to address this possible need. It is sad that it had to be sexualized for me to consider the daddy role to begin with. So let’s discuss what being a daddy means from the space of the kink community.

There is a subgroup of role players in the kink community that I have brushed up against with other people around me. I have heard the term be applied in hypersexual spaces like the L Word character Papi. I did enjoy Papi. Her, I have money car and can put it down physically and mentality was a delightful whirlwind of what a daddy is supposed to embody. And I have to admit that their introduction episode was fun TV. And kind of eye-opening about the flippant way people choose to use and abuse it.

My last partner wanted me to use it. And the mere idea of a parent dynamic in the bedroom made me want to abuse it. I did not want a daddy to join in my sexual worship, I wanted a mate to explore the sensual relationship. That partner’s assistance made me pull out other examples of daddy usage and they hated it. But instead of respecting my surface level excuse, they demanded I cave in instead of exploring my internal relationship with the term and the support it alludes to.

To return to the kink community, I read an article about the daddy in these spaces and they broke down what is supposed to happen when you claim it- daddies would take care of shit. They would pay the bills, give you the feels and give you the aftercare needed for the tears and spills. They would give you advice and a place to live. Daddies build a haven that one can heal. They underline the importance of people skills.

Men by extension are daily maintenance structures for the worlds that we build.

Living with my father, however, gives me chills.