When I was 26, my mother died.
When I was 27, my grandfather died.
And yesterday, at the age of 31, I lost my father 21 hours after our last text message saying “I love you.”
But, I don’t want to tell you about his death. I don’t want to fill these pages with tear stains and unintelligible sobbing.
I want to tell you the greatest thing he ever did for me.
He accepted me.
The man I still called Daddy was a man who took care of not only his son, but two daughters who weren’t his by blood.
Of course, he’d chastise me for saying that.
We were his. There was never any difference between us. He told me that often enough. He treated my sister and I, and both our spouses, as his kids. When they asked how many he had, the answer was always five.
I learned about kink when I was barely a teen. It spoke to me in a way that nothing else had. I read stories and blogs from a variety of submissives and slaves and it resonated with me. The more I learned, the more I wanted to know.
But, I needed a friend. I needed someone I could talk to about it.
My daddy was that friend.
So, a few years after I discovered this world, I nervously fumbled my way through what I’d found and how I felt.
Without judgement, he asked me questions. He told me to be safe.
He laughed and then told me he had no desire to know about my sex life.
This is the same man who bought me my first pair of police grade handcuffs and my first cat o nine tails.
I was utterly shocked. My dad was a straight laced man who still blushed at dirty jokes.
But, he wanted me to feel accepted. He said he would always get me what I asked for if it was within his means.
I broke that pair of handcuffs about six years after I got them. I got handcuffed and we lost the key. So, with a fork, a butter knife, and a whole lot of bruising, I bent them enough to free myself.
On a side note, I don’t recommend losing the key.
For Christmas a couple years ago, As he does every year, he asked me what I wanted.
I told him nothing.
He called me on my bullshit.
I said the only things I wanted weren’t things I was going to ask him for.
He told me to send him the links.
So, I did.
That Christmas, I received a pair of black handcuffs and matching leg irons. I also received the money to buy the internal violet want attachments I wanted.
Weird, isn’t it?
I never thought so.
Though, seeing the face of my partners when I got what I asked for, was a picture worth taking.
**** **** ****
We, as humans, spend our lives noticing all the ways we are different. We live in fear that we will be cast out for being different.
We shy away from coming out, in any way, that could be seen as deviant.
That fear often turns to anger.
We push people away, we hide ourselves behind a wall of indifference, and we pretend.
We pretend nothing can hurt us. We pretend it doesn’t hurt when people walk away.
We accommodate people’s ignorance.
I’ve been fired from a job for being gay. So has my wife. I’ve been asked by my sister in law to not be affectionate with my wife at her wedding because it will upset guests. I’ve been told I’m not Queer because I have an attraction to men and women.
I’ve hurt myself even more.
I’ve taken my depression, my anxiety, and my fear out on my own skin. I have the silver lines of anger in my thighs. I’ve starved myself. I’ve scratched my skin to the point of bleeding. I’ve cleaned until my hands were numb and I couldn’t stand.
I’ve hurt myself in more ways than I can even count.
And, there in the darkness, was one man. A man who always had a hug for me. A man who let me sleep on his couch when I showed up late at night, upset. A man who sat there and talked about sci-fi and high fantasy to take my mind off whatever was bothering me. A man who answered the phone whenever I called, even if he was at work.
He didn’t scold me for my depression. He didn’t mock my anxiety. He simply told me that if medication was helping, then I needed to listen to the doctor.
For a man who hated hospitals, and doctors, he always made sure we went.
He didn’t condemn me when I fell off my meds. He didn’t lecture me. He didn’t pressure or push me.
He supported me. He accepted me. Mistakes and all.
Above everything a father teaches their child, their are two pieces that have made me a stronger individual and helped my journey of self.
1) Whatever you are into is secondary. Always greet someone with a smile. Just because I disagree with your choice, doesn’t mean I can’t still love you.
2) Be proud of who you are. Never bow your head to those undeserving. Trust with everything you have, but never accept a violation of that trust.
–It took me years to understand those teachings. Hell, I’m still learning them.
When these lessons were reenforced by my partners, and made priority by my Master, I knew I was home.
His acceptance taught me what home meant.
Home is never just a place to sleep. Home is the people who hold you up. Home is the ones who answer the phone at 3am because you just needed to talk. Home is those who know that whatever mistakes you make, you are still worth loving.
I wouldn’t be where I am without such acceptance.
In a community full of trauma survivors, I count myself among the lucky few who had a beautiful man who stood behind me.
Even though I have to explain that he really was my dad, he will always be Daddy to me.
About the Author
My name is Joji. I am 29 years old currently and I have been in and around the kink community about 15 years.I am a collared submissive to Magick42. I am also a Daddy to a wonderful babygirl, and have been for more than three years now and I find it very fulfilling. I am being mentored in and being taught electroplay. I am a masochist at heart and thoroughly love impact play, especially caning. I enjoy reading anything I can get my hands on and am a die hard Harry Potter and Doctor Who fan. I am also the secretary for a group in Idaho called Moscow S.P.A.R.K.E (Simply Providing Another Route to Kink Education). It is our mission to teach safe practices to those new to the community and give them a safe haven to ask questions and learn without judgement. We accept all kinks and all we ask in return is respect between all our members.