01-28-2011

Triasco

I would just like to say that I've been glancing periodically at this thread for quite sometime, and though I'll be the first to agree that many of the posters who desire to see their father's erect penis may be perverts (simply a statement of fact, not a vindication, as I often identify myself as pervert), I do believe that there are a few members on this thread who are unworthy of the jostling these perverts receive. I grew up without my father. Completely. Actually, I take that back. He called me once and held a 2-min. conversation with me on my third or fourth Christmas. Then I called him to get information necessary to compete for an ROTC scholarship. It took me over an hour to swallow my rage and despair, pick up the phone, and dial his number. But I digress. I grew up, for all intensive purposes, completely without my father. Although I had a thousand father figures (and one I'd even dare to call "Dad"), there was no real male presence in the household but my own. As I got older, my mother kept telling me that I was the man of the house, and that I should be a man. But I, suffering from social anxiety disorder, neither knew what a man acted like nor had the ability to truly find out beyond mere observation. From the time I was six, when I recognized that my father had left us, I developed deep hatred of him and a loathing of myself, on a physical, mental, and emotional level. My heart would burn everytime my mother would casually remark, "You look just like your father." I realize that this hatred has greatly influenced my behavior, both day-to-day and sexual. My distaste for my own masculinity led me desire being just like my mother, developing mannerisms that could be defined as feminine, and, of course, led to sexual identity issues by the time I understood what sex was (at about six again; I was quite a thinker back then). The fact that mothers tend to supress the sexualities of their sons, while the fathers (in the best cases) nurture it into healthy fruition. It wasn't until I met the only men I'd call "Dad", at almost 15 years of age, that I felt as though I had any idea what a real man should be. Up to that point I was enslaved to a lingering curiosity regarding males (and females for that matter) that led down a very rough and winding road of sexual confusion for me and frustration for my mother. That wonderful man (I thank God for him everyday), helped me quite a bit to come to terms with a great many number of things, the least of which was a sexual identity and an appreciation for myself. Although a part of me feels as though it is simply whining (and it may very well seem like that to some of you), but another, much wiser part of me recognizes that if my father had not only be a greater presence in my life, but had also showed me what it means to be a man physically, mentally, emotionally, and sexually, then I would be a very different--I imagine much better--person today. I suppose all I'm really trying to say is: Think twice next time before you ridicule someone for having such strong bonds with their father. End of rant. Catharsis.