I gained new insight about myself from daddy
By: Eddie in San Diego
When I was 18-years old during the summer before college, I hooked up with a 38-year-old man. It happened with a personal trainer from my gym who also taught boxing classes.
You read that right – he was 20 years my senior.
But the age difference didn’t matter. Not to me at least. That’s because I was extremely attracted to him. His name was Kevin and he was fairly new to San Diego.
We got to know one another when I would see him on the gym-floor, making occasional small-talk as we went about our business.
We both knew we were gay. No, we never “came out” to each another. Instead, it was just deeply intuitive. I suppose some people call it gaydar.
But I digress.
Our first encounter wasn’t all that unusual. I was leaving the gym to catch a ride on the trolley; a streetcar system that natives of San Diego take pride in.
Want a lift?” he asked in a laid-back voice. “I think I am going your way,” he added.
Indeed, he was. During one of our previous conversations, I had learned that Kevin lived near the Alvarado Medical Center, which happened to be a short distance from my destination, Fenton Parkway.
Once I jumped inside his vintage Thunderbird – a muscle car from an era gone by, we started chatting. But that didn’t last long.
At some point, I paid him a compliment on his muscular build. In turn, he placed my hand on the seam line of his khaki shorts – the place where cloth ends and skin begins.
He did this without asking and with a sense of certitude that I found incredibly intoxicating.
“It’s cool we are finally spending time together. It’s not like we haven’t noticed each other at the gym, right?” he chuckled as sunlight reflected off his beard, giving it an amber hue.
Writing this all out now, I can still remember touching the outlines of quadriceps; my fingers feeling each strand of his leg muscles, which were covered in blondish hair.
Obviously, there was more to feel. A lot more. But I am choosing not to get graphic because that’s not the goal of this post.
As things heated up, he turned to me and suggested we head somewhere private. Moments later, we were pulling into a quiet park. Because his windows were tinted, privacy wasn’t an issue.
In gay-lingo, Kevin would fall into the muscle daddy area; well built, older and in his case, athletic.
To me – these types of men are incredibly hot. For reasons that are beyond my awareness, I have always gravitated towards significantly older. There’s just something about them that does it for me, you know?
I suppose that’s why I really got into “doing him” as he reclined back in the seat. “There’s a towel in my gym bag to clean up if you want to grab it.”
There would be no need for it. I wasn’t about to let one drop from get away from me.
Keep in mind that Kevin was my first “older man”. Oh sure, I had messed around with other guys plenty. But all of them were close to my age. As I reflect on my experience with him now, I can see just how profound our encounter had been.
That’s because in getting with Kevin, I learned some things about myself on the self-insight front.
First, my oral skills sucked (no pun intended). It took an older, patient man to show me the importance of hand-mouth coordination.
Part of this involved leading by example. In other words, Kevin did to me what he wanted to be done to him. In this way, he became my teacher – with lessons learned that I still use to this day.
Second, he was patient and nurturing. Unlike so many younger guys who would get caught up in a frantic rush of energy, he did not. Instead, his approach was gentle and firm, yet steady.
Never mind that we could have been busted by the cops. It’s not like they don’t patrol the parks, you know? But that fear of danger – at least for him – was not present. And his sense of confidence melted away my fear, if that makes sense.
Finally, there was kissing. In between our back and forth, he would occasionally embrace me. Yes, there was passion. But what stands out most of this memory was his skill.
“Hope my beard doesn’t scrape your skin?” he joked as we kissed. There was something magnetic about his sense of humor and confidence. I suppose that’s why men like him are called Daddy, right?
As I reflect back, I can still smell the cologne he was wearing. Brute. My own father used to wear it and I knew the smell all too well.
The hook up in his car wouldn’t be our only experience. There would be other encounters for what remained of summer. While we never went beyond oral, I can say I learned new things about myself each time.
These included things like patience, the importance of foreplay and of course, affection. “Let’s take our time Eddie,” he would sometimes say.
When school began in the fall, our time together would end. Part of this was because I would be attending college in the northern part of the state.
But the other reason was that Kevin had warned me that he would be moving to Oregon by year’s end. “I think I have feelings for you and I sense you have them for me.”
He was right – I did. Was it love? I don’t know. Probably.
At any rate, I shared this story to give you a personal experience of what it is like to get with an older man. A lot of younger gay men set rules for themselves and will only “get with” somebody within their age range.
That’s cool – but it’s also a shame – truly. You can learn so much about yourself and the world around you by being with “older”. But for that to happen, you have to let go of the internal narrative that can be self-limiting.
In my case, I learned that I’m incredibly attracted to men who are confident and wise. To obtain those traits, a person needs to live a life – and that comes through experience.
Maybe one day I will see Kevin again. I hope he is well.