Daddy Issues

by Seth King

  Oh well. At least I’m getting some sex out of all this. Our hookups were never explosive or anything, but sex is sex, right?

  I think back to meeting him, on that dating app called Tinder. At the time, I was about to throw in the towel on the whole dating thing and become a lesbian or something. Every guy I matched with would already be getting messages from other matches by the time we met up. Finding love in gay culture is like finding a diamond hidden in the sands of a beach – a very wide beach, filled with broken mimosa glasses and Andrew Christian man-thongs. If you like someone, he likes twelve other people. If you really like someone, he probably has a live-in boyfriend at home that he’s hiding and lying about.

  The freedom associated with growing up and coming out of the closet and getting out of your shitty little hometown has translated into an extended period of wild, childish hedonism for most gay men. I’m not especially promiscuous, but I would admit that I live like a teenager – probably because I was never a teenager in the first place. A tweet recently went viral that said something like, “gay culture means living out your adolescence in your ‘20s because your childhood wasn’t yours to live.” While my friends were getting their first kisses and going on their first dates, I was hiding in my room, masturbating to Zac Efron and listening to Kelly Clarkson’s music “because I thought she was hot.” I never lived all those rites of passage. We’re all just big kids running around in adult bodies, and all of us know it. In the age of Grindr and Tinder and endless random hookups, we are alone together. To be gay is to be utterly disconnected in the most connected world that has ever existed.

  David was the same. I never wanted to admit it, but he was. He was lost, and still is. All I want now is for someone to look at me like they want to stay, for someone to sit next to me and act like they want to stick around. I feel like I’m done with this, and I want off the merry-go-round. I’m done with all this; I just don’t know what to do about it yet.

  “Whatcha doing?” I ask, and he puts away his tablet and switches to his phone instead.

  “Nothing. You?”

  “Thinking about getting a tan. Wanna come?”

  “No. I’m really into this book. I’ll be there later, maybe. I really want to take one of those little canoes out, too, and smoke.”

  “You brought weed here?” I ask.

  “Of course I did. Want some?”

  “Um. I’m fine. Thanks.”

  This was something I always disliked, that David couldn’t go a day without getting baked. What was so great at about weed? All it did was make me feel…disoriented.

  “And didn’t you know what your family’s doing today?” he asks. “A boating trip, for bonding. I was invited, too, but…obviously that would be weird right now. So have fun with that! I’ll just go smoke now,” he says mockingly as he leaves the room. But instead of being annoyed by the prospect of a full day with my annoying family, I smile.

  This means I get to spend some time with Robert. Without David.

  Come on, my mom texts me. We’re going to the lake. Last one to the car has to sit with Aunt Marjorie.

  Be there immediately! I respond as I jump up and slip into my bathing suit. But the source of my excitement has nothing to do with getting a good seat. In my head, all I can see are those hazel eyes…

  And fine. Maybe that cock, too.

  Robert Glazer

  “Oh, yes, Robert. Please, please fuck my ass…”

  I turn him around against the tree and yank down his shorts. He’s just as perfect as I envisioned. I worship him from his long, thick thighs to his plump, pale ass to his smooth, muscled back, then I lick his neck as I whisper filthily into his ear…

  “You want me to fuck you, baby? You want this dick out here in the wilderness?”

  “Yes, please,” he moans. “Please. Now.”

  I spit on my hand, then place my cock against his tight hole. And slowly I start sinking myself into him…

  He groans louder with every inch. I can’t believe he takes the whole thing, but soon I’m buried to the base.

  “Fuck!” he cries, and suddenly the trees are disappearing and the forest is melting into the white light…

  ~

  I open my eyes. It’s dawn over the treetops outside, and my cock is seeping onto the sheets. Actually, it’s more like I had a mini-orgasm, and all of this pre-cum originated from fantasies of Eliot Prince.

  As I rub my head, the memories flood back to me in a heady, hungover rush. Oh, fuck. Did last night really happen?

  I head into the shower and take my dick into my hands to get rid of the cum weighing down my big balls. God, this is weird. I never thought last night could happen, but I was drawn to Eliot like an old woman to a sale at a grocery store. I dreamed about him all night, actually. And it wasn’t just his eyes, his floppy blonde-ish hair, his cleft chin. It was the way he lets others speak first, the way I saw him caring for his nieces last night, the way he never talked about himself, the way he held open the door for people. There was a light behind his eyes, a light that many other people simply don’t have, or lose as the years go by.

  And fine, his big ass doesn’t hurt, either…

  I pump myself faster and faster, my toes curling, and then I am spurting my liquid onto the tile wall in the single most intense orgasm I’ve experienced in years. Jesus – that felt good. And it’s all thanks to the memories of last night…

  After the jackoff session I take out my iPad and decide to do some social media stalking. We’re not friends, but I can see most of his posts and photos.

  There’s a curious lack of David content on his pages, which doesn’t surprise me – Eliot is clearly beyond him, and just doesn’t know what to do. Some kids from his generation are incredibly annoying, posting all kinds of polls and games and links and nonsense, but he’s very brief – I like that about a man. Talking too much does nothing but get you in trouble. Everyone likes the strong, silent type.

  I go back so far I come across photos of a guy he must’ve dated before David, and he is incredibly attractive – the kind of guy that can make a room go silent. What happened? Why did it end? And why am I so jealous right now? I feel so possessive I want to reach through the screen and separate them a few inches, and I have never been unreasonably possessive of a partner. Is it because Eliot is hot and young and smart, and I know he’s a catch, and would therefore be hard to hold onto?

  I am never this insecure about men. I’m not cocky, but at the same time, I can admit it’s not hard for me to get guys. But at the same time, I’m not getting any younger. Sometimes on a weeknight, when it’s just me and the cat and the Housewives, I am so alone, I can feel it in my bones. More and more eligible guys I meet at the bar are married, and are just out for a night with friends. Maybe I should get on this before it’s too late…

  On a whim, I take a moment to Google something that makes my heart stomp – the laws regarding step-parents and former step-children. Very quickly I am relieved to find there aren’t any. As soon as the divorce goes through, there are no longer any legal bonds between step-family members, in any way. Sure, it might be morally wrong, but legally there is nothing in the books regarding this.

  But then again, Mary Kate’s revenge could possibly be far more terrifying than anything the law could hand down to me…

  I start getting ready for the day, my mind still racing. Looking back, my marriage to Mary Kate Powers Prince was a clear case of temporary insanity. I was raised in a military family, moving from base to base, one city to the next, and we were as conservative as conservative gets. When I started suspecting there was something different about me, my first instinct was to completely reject and deny the possibility. I’d never even met a gay person, and whenever they were brought up in the evening news my parents talked about them in hushed tones, like just speaking about them too loudly would pox the house. So at first it wasn’t even a possibility to me.

  But nature doesn’t wait long. My mom found a Playgirl in my room,
and brought me to a Methodist minister who prayed with me and said God would “cleanse” me of this “imperfect urge.” So throughout my adolescence, I believed him. When I met Mary Kate, she was everything my parents ever told me I wanted. She was cute and spunky and female and could give me children. One thing people don’t understand is that when someone is as desperate as I was, they will want to believe in the fantasies so badly, they actually do start to believe in them. In my mind, I wasn’t a gay man marrying a woman I could never love. I was a good Christian overcoming my sinful nature to do the right thing and “fit in.”

  Shocker: the marriage was a disaster from the vows onward. I didn’t love her, and she resented me for it. Actually, I did love her very much, but on a sisterly level. I knew very quickly that I had made a massive miscalculation. But if anything, she saved my life – by marrying her, I had it spelled out for me, in big bold letters that human nature was set in stone, and that I couldn’t “pray away” my complete disinterest in females. I didn’t like her sexually, and that was that.

  The first year of matrimony was full of knock-down fights, with Mary Kate melting down over the simplest things and tossing hairbrushes or pitchers of water at me (never around Eliot, though, as he chose to live with his father and stepmom). I wasn’t even there half the time, as I’d flee the chaos and sleep at my sister’s house. Within a year, we separated.

  That’s why I don’t know Eliot – in all the mess, I barely ever encountered him. Mary Kate is a…complicated woman, some would say crazy, and I understood Eliot’s choice to live with his dad. She never got over it, though, and hated his dad for it forever.

  God, that must’ve made it doubly worse for Eliot when his dad dumped both of his kids for his mistress and moved to Asia…

  Leaving Mary Kate and moving to the gay portion of Atlanta was the single most terrifying thing I ever did. It was also the best. More than anything, I was petrified of being seen as “that poor confused gay guy” who had misguidedly walked a woman down the aisle and ruined her life. But Mary Kate got over it and moved on very quickly, and living authentically proved to be my savior. For the first time, I was waking up happy. For the first time, I was doing what I wanted to do, every single day, instead of following my parents’ orders. My depression eased up within weeks. Looking back, I should’ve told my parents to fuck themselves a decade before my marriage and lived on my terms, but you know what they say about hindsight…

  Still, I didn’t experience my first relationships and first heartbreak until most of my peers were paying mortgages. For many, to be gay is to live all your adolescent experiences on a decade-long delay. But I try not to regret my journey, because all of it brought me to the here and now. It reminds me of a quote from one of my favorite authors, a writer named Seth King who is very talented but also, unfortunately, hopelessly ugly:

  The very best people have been broken before. The most interesting people hear a heartbreak song and slow a little, as they understand the lyrics a little more than the average listener. The wisest people see a swirl of color in a piece of art and wince as they see a mental montage of that summer with the lover that got away. Most people would choose an easy life, a tranquil path - but we are not given the luxury of that choice. Some of us are put through the ringer, some of our hearts are treated like they were bought at secondhand stores. They may seem weary or beaten down, but they know the truth: they are the wise ones. They are the storm-strong. They are the survivors. A broken human heart is a living miracle - what else could break over and over again, and still function?

  So at the end of the day, I’m here, I’m queer, and I’m me. Finally.

  As I brush my teeth I think of Eliot’s eyes, and an undeniable jolt shakes my body. Nobody has made me feel like this in…well, years. Passion never chooses its recipients, and Mary Kate knows that now. Part of me thinks she’d understand, if she ever found out we hooked up – if she can only work through the rest of the facets of her reaction. But what would she think about more than a hookup?

  Eliot is gorgeous, he’s an adult, and he’s single. (Technically, but still.) We keep locking eyes, and every time I get that jittery feeling I’ll get in a club when a dude looks at me and I know he wants to fuck me.

  But that’s wrong, right?

  That’s when I realize I need to deal with this. Whatever is going on here, whatever happened, I am going to have to resolve it before we leave. I’ve let too many good guys run away from me, and time is getting scarce. So instead of running from this, I start getting ready for the day in my best clothes. Because I won’t run.

  Whatever this becomes, I will dive in headfirst.

  Eliot Prince

  Lake Watauga is half an hour from our cabin, and is breathtaking. There isn’t another word. It’s surrounded by some of the highest peaks in the area, and from some angles the water seems to go on forever. We dip our motorboat into the lake and then push out into the open water, a beer already in my hand. I didn’t drive here with Robert, but he got into our boat after an aunt directed him our way. Of course.

  I turn to David and try to give him my attention, but my body cannot ignore Robert’s presence. In fact, I get chills when he settles across from us, trying to act as nonchalant as he can. But I know the truth. Somehow, I feel his reaction. And he’s spinning inside, too.

  Once our eyes meet, and I feel like when you touch a doorknob on a cold day. Then I look away. This is going to be a long boat ride.

  I watch as the little cousins take turns riding the tube behind the boat, laughing and cheering in all the right places. David rides with the middle schoolers, and I’m relieved I don’t have to ride with him. Just feigning interest in him anymore is becoming exhausting, honestly.

  But towards the end of the ride, Uncle Ted notices there are two people who haven’t taken a ride – me and Robert.

  “Only two haven’t gone! Eliot and Robert, hop on!”

  I look over at him in horror. He looks just as confused, but then he nods and gives me a little “be cool” nod – if we act weird, it’ll only make people suspect something. Everyone jeers and insists, so in the end I climb onto the stupid raft as Robert waits behind me. I situate myself and turn around, only to find that his bulge is in my face as he stands on the edge of the boat.

  Jesus, is the entire universe conspiring to keep this man’s penis around me?!

  “Hi again,” I begin once we’re settled on the raft. He smiles, and my stomach shrinks.

  “Hi.”

  “I’m kinda surprised you came,” I say, motioning at the three screaming toddlers on the other boat beside ours. “Our family isn’t the easiest to be around.”

  “I came the second I heard you would be here,” he says into my ear, and my skin goes numb. “I would’ve dealt with a lot more to be around you, trust me.”

  I am struck again by how much I like the weirdest things about him. His ears attract me, his fingernails are glossed and perfect, his legs are strong and thick. I know they’re just legs, but on him they’re…somehow more than legs.

  I’m on his right, and we’re both on our stomachs facing forward. Being this close to him – Jesus Christ, my senses have never been more alive. My stomach is boiling, I can’t feel my face. I can’t even really get a deep breath, either, because my heartbeat is too fluttery.

  My uncle starts the engine, and because the kids are being fussy, we just stroll around for a while, going so slow it’s quiet enough to hear people talk. Then, with a terrifying clank, the unthinkable happens: the engine stops running.

  “Damn it,” Uncle Ted says from the boat, probably twenty yards away. “Just wait, you two. Something’s up. Thank God for that summer I worked as a mechanic…”

  Great. So I’m literally stuck on a raft with Robert, floating well away from the boat, totally alone.

  To break through the awkwardness, I angle toward Robert a little, trying to act like my whole body isn’t tingling. “So, how have you been these last…what, ten years?”


  I see then grey in his hair, and a term flashes in my head again – daddy. Am I really attracted to him, or is this some kind of weird kink?

  “Great,” he says. “Been working in banking. I live in Atlanta, in Midtown.”

  “Ah, the gayborhood.”

  “Indeed. It’s amazing. I couldn’t ask for a more accepting place in the South.”

  “Speaking of that…I’m so curious,” I begin. “Go back to when you broke up with my mom. What did your family say?”

  He exhales. “Um. Do you really want to go there?”

  “I asked. And we have the time…”

  He stares down at the water. “It was…the worst time of my life, for a second. A lot of people were totally supportive, but a lot of people stepped away immediately, too. My dad slammed down the phone and said I was making the biggest mistake of my life. He never looked me in the eye again – not once. He died recently. I didn’t go to the funeral.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Some people thought I tricked her or something, when in reality, I had no idea what was going on inside my own head when we met. I just knew I was panicking about my sexuality every day of my life, but I assumed it would go away. It never did. That was scarier to me than anything, actually – dealing with the aftermath of leaving her. I loved her, and the idea of hurting her…it made me want to just kill myself sometimes, to give her a happier ending, a clearer story. I thought she would go through life forever as the sad lady who married a gay guy.”

  “Robert,” I say. “She never looked at it like that. Ever.”

  “I know that now. I didn’t know it then. People in the closet have a tendency to see the worst-case scenario, across the board.”

  “God, I know that. I was so afraid, but my life is better than I ever imagined. Even though I’m still figuring things out by the day.”