I came across an article in one of the gay rags recently about “ageism in the gay community” and how “the shelf life of gay men is precarious at best,” with the young despising the old and the old trying desperately to stay young. That is, if they haven’t trainwrecked themselves with booze, chain smoking, drugs, or living in a refrigerator by the time they’re forty.
Fast forward to a conversation I happened to have the other day at my doctor’s office with D., the partner of Dr. C, my testosterone wizard, who commented about how now that he’s turned the big 5-0, he’s getting hit on by younger and younger guys. Even though he prefers guys closer to his age.
“Welcome to the Daddy Club,” I said laughing. For while most men my age have the remote control for their TV in their lap, I have some guy usually old enough to be my son giving me a bj.
“Yea, one kid at Crunch (our mostly gay gym here in Lauderdale) gave me a wink and said how he was into older guys,” said D., who viewed that as a left handed complement.
Hey, the first time a guy called me “Daddy” I thought I had used the wrong shade of “Just for Men,” but, hell, my Daddy status has given me a second career as a gay man. I fucken love it!
But always playing the amateur psycho-analysist, I wondered out loud with D that maybe the reason so many younger guys are attracted to older men is because the father figure is increasingly missing in American society, either literally or figuratively (You know, the professional dad who never has time to nurture Sonny). Consequently these gay boys are turning to us not necessarily as meal tickets, but as mentors.
To which D. answered with a sarcastic tone in his voice, “Ray, you’re dissecting the fucken thing to death. It’s all about sex, baby!”
You know, he’s right.
And I’m sure as fuck happy he is.