This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.
Author’s note: I wrote this story based on photos of a dad I personally know. I couldn’t keep the story a secret, but out of respect for this dad’s privacy, I removed the photos from the published version. But trust Me, this dad is hot. –JHW
That’s me. Well, it was me. Things are a lot different now, and it’s hard to remember everything that happened to make me, well, who I am now. It all started when he left a few comments on my YouTube channel.
Hey, I really like your music!
Wow, this one’s great! Really enjoyed listening.
Your best track yet! So good, man.
The next day, I noticed he subscribed and then went through my uploads and liked every single one of them. The next week, he was tagging other YouTubers and driving new listeners to my channel. Every time I published a new video, he’d be there almost immediately with a compliment. This was awesome. I had a new fan!
After a few weeks of seeing his likes and comments, I finally DM’ed him to say thanks, and we got to chatting. Turns out that he lived just a few towns over, so I invited him to my next live gig. That night, I kept squinting out into the crowd, trying to figure out who he might be. I can’t remember being so nervous and excited at a show before.
I was packing up my equipment after the show when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Surprised, I whirled around and saw a guy standing behind me dressed in a crisp white collared shirt, black necktie, and black leather jacket. He pulled his hand back and gave me a relaxed smile.
“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Jay.”
My eyes went wide. This was Jay? This was my number one fan? I don’t know what I expected him to look like, but seeing him in person got my heart beating faster. I stumbled through an introduction, felt his firm handshake, and stammered my way through some small talk. Everything about him—his size, his beard, his green eyes, his necktie—seemed to distract me and get my thoughts all jumbled. To this day, I can’t remember what we talked about, but I remember how the conversation ended.
“Listen, man,” he said, “I’ve got to run, but I’d love to see you again. Could I buy you a coffee or a beer sometime?”
I wanted to say yes more than anything, but nerves and self-consciousness got the better of me. “That’s kind of you to offer, Jay,” I said. “But I’m old enough to be your dad.”
He let those two words linger in silence between us for what felt like forever. The whole time, his eyes remained locked on mine. I don’t know why I didn’t break eye contact. Gazing into his eyes just felt so right. Eventually–I don’t know after how long–he ended our impromptu staring contest and handed me a card.
“That’s my number,” he said, tapping it. “And on the back is a QR code that links to some of my music. I’d love to know what you think.
It’s hard to remember our parting words, but I remember exactly how it felt when his hand brushed against mine. I listened to his music in the car on my way home, and I loved it. I can’t tell you exactly what it sounded like, but that didn’t matter. It still doesn’t. By the time I turned onto my street, I was practically jumping out of my skin from how much I wanted to call him. I wanted to tell him how much I enjoyed his music. I wanted to accept his offer for a date.
We started spending a lot of time together after that: chats over coffee, dinner and drinks after work, even making music together on the weekends. Every time we saw each other, I felt that same combination of admiration and respect, and it only grew as we got closer. Some nights, we’d have so much fun hanging out that we’d lose track of time. When it was late, I always offered to let him stay the night. Eventually, one night became two, then a week, then a month. We had so much in common and had such a good time together, I completely forgot he was younger. He helped me grow my YouTube channel to the point where it was actually making money! The night I got my first big check, he clapped me on the shoulder and held his other hand out.
“Hand it over,” he said.
“My check? Why do you want it?”
“Because I’ve got something I want to buy for you.”
That stare again. I’d noticed it a few times, but with more and more frequency lately. It felt like whenever Jay wanted something from me, he’d fix that gaze on me and everything would go fuzzy after that. I started to feel it again. Confusion made me doubt myself, but that immediately vanished. Of course Jay knew what was best for me. He’d done so much to help me already that it was only right for him to take the check. I handed it over without another word.
A week later, he was watching a movie on the sofa while I stood behind him and massaged his shoulders. I heard a package being dropped at the door. That happened a lot; Jay liked buying new things for our house. He got up to get the package, returning to the living room with a good-sized box and a confident smirk that always drove me wild.
“I got you a present,” he said as he lifted a black leather jacket out of the box.
I looked at the jacket with desiring eyes. It was exactly like the one Jay wore but made to fit me. I reached out to take it, but Jay snatched it away.
“Not so fast,” he said with a serious tone. “Go upstairs and change first.”
He didn’t need to say anything else. I hurried up the stairs into my new bedroom—Jay had moved himself into the master bedroom and gave me the spare room instead—and threw open the closet, where a row of identical crisp, white shirts and a dozen black neckties hung on hangers and hooks. Over the last few weeks, my sweaters and t-shirts and jeans started to vanish from my wardrobe, replaced with these white collared shirts and ties, but I never paid much attention to it. It just never seemed to matter. Plus, I loved dressing just like Jay. Every time I knotted my necktie snugly against my throat, I knew how proud he would be of me for dressing like a perfect gentleman.
Back downstairs, Jay slid the leather jacket over my shoulders and then turned me around and zipped it up by torso and chest. That stare again. It felt so damn good.
“Looks great,” He said with a cocky smile and gestured to His own matching jacket. “Like father, like Son, eh, dad?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Like father, like Son, right?”
My head felt strange, like I was trying to listen to two different pieces of music at the same time. I tried to shake the feeling away, but it persisted. Two sets of memories battled over my mind, and for a second, it felt like both of them would lose.
Then, I felt my son’s hand on my shoulder. My Son? Jay? I looked into his eyes, his powerful, dominant eyes, and smiled. I love my Son Jay.
“I’m great, Son,” I growled with desire. “Thank you for the gift. It’s perfect.”
“And you’re perfect, too, dad,” He said. Then, with a smirk, He sat back down on the sofa. “Now get back to work. These shoulders aren’t going to massage themselves.”
My eyes glazed over, and I immediately complied. I was happy to take good care of my handsome, dominant Son.
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