The husband gave me an Instinct Magazine for my forty-third birthday last Sunday with the article “How I Went from Daddy Chaser to Being the Daddy”.
The husband likes to think he’s funny.
The article was a short fluff piece (kinda like this, though I’m sure the writer got paid for his piece) about turning 40. Not that I have anything against fluff pieces…
Now your humble blogger really doesn’t mind turning forty-three. Though I do know that I don’t turn heads like I once did. Canadian author Alice Munro wrote a short story about a woman who suddenly discovers that men don’t notice her anymore and is devastated. For me, that realization came over a number of years. Yet I still do recall the days when I believed that any man that didn’t look at me when I walked into a bar had to be straight.
Perhaps I was a tad conceited in my youth.
But that really doesn’t happen anymore. Though I still might get a couple of turns of the head… and, much even to my surprise, I’m amazingly alright with that.
Especially since I was (as I said) a tad conceited in my youth.
Perhaps my nonchalant attitude is partly due to being married. Just who am I trying to impress? And for heaven’s sake why would I need to impress anyone (this ‘I don’t give a damn’ attitude comes with age too)? After all, I have a husband at home who loves me – laugh lines around my eyes and all!
So today ‘Daddydom’ feels rather like slipping into a warm bathtub – a little hot at first but quite comfortable once you get used to it. I remember being told by a boyfriend that when I was a mere thirty years old that I had a “pre-daddy thing goin’ on”. I didn’t like that, but the truth is I sorta felt ‘daddyish’ for quite some time. Perhaps because I never really related to younger guys – and from the beginning, I’ve always been attracted to men that were older (not Methuselaha older – just a bit older).
Yes, I do like those salt and pepper haired men – or even just salt. And there is always that confidence that mature men seemed to possess that the younger chaps didn’t.
But though I do like older men, it used to irritate me to see mature gay men wearing clothes made for youngsters. We’ve all seen those forty and fifty-somethings in ripped jeans and Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirts… still hitting the raves after twenty years – sometimes looking every twenty long years of it – but then your humble blogger tried to be more thoughtful.
After all, we are really the first full generation of out gay men to make it to middle-age.
And we should allow this lucky generation to find their own way. So if some older gay guys out there still like to wear Abercrombie and Fitch when their straight counterparts have moved on to the Arnold Palmer collection from Sears – what the hell. And if they want to Rave to 90s music till the cows come home – what’s it to me?
Who am I to be so judgmental anyway?
And I have to admit that some of those older guys still look good in Abercrombie and Fitch.
So what do you think? When does one become a ‘Daddy’? Or does one need to become a ‘Daddy’ at all? Could it be that the term is outdated? Are there any other silver fox admirers out there?
Jeffrey, The Gay Groom