Dads with their children are incredibly hot.
At festivals and street fairs, at restaurants, in line at the movies, having a kid in tow increases your attractiveness by about 500%
The attraction seems to be in the paradoxical juxtaposition of innocence and experience, the sexless and sexual. Dad is nurturing you, but his orgasm created you. You are walking, talking proof of his sexual potency.
So when I saw two dads at Octoberfest, holding the hand of their 3-year kid between them, visions of sharing rushed through my head.
They were both twinks, so my cruising was bound to succeed: Chad was tall and slim with dirty blond hair, a goatee, and a basket. Rod, more muscular, Mediterranean-looking with a broad open face, clean-shaven.
Their kid was named Will, after the titular character on the mega-homophobic sitcom Will and Grace.
Chad grew up in a small town in Minnesota, met Rod in college, and convinced him to move to another small town to restore the old opera house. Now he was working on various historic restoration projects, while Rod was mostly a house-husband, cooking and cleaning and watching daytime soap operas.
I didn't ask how Will came about, but I assumed it was through artificial insemination. It didn't make a difference: they had a child, innocence derived from experience, sexless derived from sex, and I wanted them in my bed.
I invited them over for dinner Wednesday night, expecting of course that they would get a babysitter.
Instead they brought a bottle of wine and a chocolate cake. And Will.
Ok, no sharing tonight.
No sex games or nudity.
No discussions of celebrity hookups, gigantic penises, or dates from hell.
What else do gay dads talk about?
College: "I took a class in your field. Do you know professor...Will, don't run in the house..Professor...Will, don't touch that, it looks expensive...Do you have any gay students?...Will, take that out of your mouth! He just gets excited meeting new people."
Gay Pride: "We went to Gay Pride in...Will, get your hands out of the dip...Minneapolis. We marched with the Gay Fathers...Will, if you don't want that cherry tomato, spit it into my hand, don't smush it on the couch.....It's a great group...Where's your bathroom?"
Maybe Will would like to watch a video? I have some cartoons...
TV: "We love American Horror Story...it's so gay-positive....
Will, don't touch that...and we're going through Star Trek, the original series, on Netflix...Will, do you need a nap?...Kirk is totally hot, don't you think?"
Time to eat. Bob made vegetable lasagna and a salad, which Will ate with his hands, picking up a piece of lasagna, showing it to his dad, asking "What's this?", and repeating for each slice.
Food: "There's a pizza place nearby that serves a 10 pound pizza. It's free if you and a friend can eat the whole thing...Will, that's not a toy...I went with my brother-in-law, who is this massive truck driver type, and even we couldn't get through even half of...Will, use your fork."
I cleared the dishes while Bob dished out the chocolate cake, which Will ate with his hands.
Then, nerves frazzled, ears ringing from the constant yelling, bloated from lasagna and cake in the same meal, and nauseous from watching the kid eat with his hands, I said goodnight and shooed them out the door.
Not until Will looks something like this.
Call me in 15 years.
The uncensored story, with nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood