(about the holiday, and masculinity, and enough man-on-man sex to make this posting out of bounds for kids and the sexually modest)
First take: the long pan. From my 6/16/19 posting “On this day in 2019”:
(US) Fathers Day. For some of us, this is a day to remember our fathers with affection. I’m one of the lucky ones; I’ve written about mine several times, most extensively in my 1/30/11 posting “It Gets Better / Wonderful dad”.
It’s also an American commercial holiday that might better be labeled Masculinity Day, aimed at selling things stereotypically associated with high masculinity in either the upper middle class or the working class; elaboration on this point in my 6/10/18 posting “Gearing up for Fathers Day”. [AZ: I am largely alienated from American normative masculinity, have been as long as I can remember, so have gone my own way, on a path of homomasculinity, where both my sociocultural affiliations and my sexual desires take me off the broad highway and into the steamy jungle underbrush]
And then through its role as Masculinity Day and through complex associations involving gay men and fathers, Fathers Day is also a high holiday for gay porn, with at least three different themes: sex between father and son; Daddy-Boy relationships; and sex involving older men — called daddies — especially, very muscular ones. [AZ: of the three themes, only Daddy / Boy works for me, and that’s a recent discovery: in this world of sexual fantasy, despite my advanced age, I turn out to be, as we say there, a very good Boy; there is, apparently, always space for pleasant surprises]
Three guys: George and Spike, plus metrosexual Robert — single malt Scotch and Bud Light, plus a Cosmopolitan. From the 2018 posting:
Fathers Day is an Amercan holiday celebrating middle-class white masculinity, in two stereotypes: one upper-middle class (typified by a character I’ll call George, nickname Zapper from boyhood summer camp, product of prep school and Ivy League, successful businessman, ardent golfer, favors single malt Scotches and luxury cars, fan of elaborate gadgets, especially huge wildly expensive aggressively masculine watches that function happily underwater, provide a stopwatch, and track the time in three widely separated zones) and one lower-middle class (typified by a character I’ll call Spike, construction worker, ardent NFL and Nascar fan, drinks Bud Light and grills burgers, into snack foods and power tools, treasures his La-Z-Boy recliner, loves to fix cars and argue sports stats).
From my 6/18/17 posting “Three days in one”:
Classic Fathers Day gifts:
tools, hardware, and equipment (e.g., lawn mowers, esp. riding mowers), grilling equipment, barware, electronics, cameras, watches, wallets (of the duofold, bifold, or two-fold variety, not like women’s wallets), gadgets (Swiss Army knives, etc.), men’s clothing (esp. ties and underwear), grooming items, men’s fragrances, sports gear, golf stuff, hunting and fishing stuff, sports fan items, car items, bike and motorcycle items, beer, whisk(e)y, steaks
A mixture of George and Spike, plus a bit of metrosexual Robert. Actual fatherhood scarcely comes into it.
Sunday arousing Sunday. Today is Fathers Day, but I’m treating it as just another Sunday — a day customarily given to working on my postings with, as background, a DVD of gay porn playing. From this I achieve a constant pleasant state of mild arousal, from which I can break whenever I want to let myself get carried to orgasm.
Today — using Spain in the Ass 2 (2025, from Naked Sword), unfortunate title but excellently crafted porn — I was reminded of a wrinkle in this routine: loving engorgements of penises in mouths go by, and noisy scenes of hips slapping against buttocks during intense penetrations, and that’s all, well, nice, but my writing goes on. And then two guys get into seriously, deeply, kissing one another, and wow, I’m seconds away from shooting, this is the sexiest thing ever.
I am, apparently, a male-affection whore. (This is all in my mind; I haven’t had any kind of sexual contact with another person, even one of those kisses, since 2004.)
But it’s Fathers Day. Kids, do you know where your fathers are, and what they’re doing? Your dad is probably not getting a hard-on from Spain in the Ass 2, but I am. Well, the world is complicated, and people are in fact not responsible for their parents’ peccadillos. (And you have to concede that I’m also analyzing the circumstances that gave rise to that hard-on, so it’s not just solid vulgarity all down the line.) Fortunately, Elizabeth Daingerfield Zwicky established her own career early in life, so that I am likely to be known as Elizabeth Zwicky’s father (admiring applause), even if she is sometimes identified as Arnold Zwicky’s daughter (long sideways dubious-reputation glances).
Meanwhile, I’m a cranky old man, and I complain a lot. But, I think, I do have some entertainment value, so a generous person might see some worth in me as a parent (even given my manifold failures during her childhood, which she will no doubt remind me of). Though I will note that she never once taxed me with introducing my male sexual partner (also her mother’s lover) into the household as a second father for her — choosing instead to see this as getting three adults who were concerned with her well-being instead of only two.
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