Do you remember when you were little and your dad was the king of your heart? He was this giant of a figure, larger-than-life, invincible and eternal, with a secret smile that he kept tucked away just for you. He would sling you up onto his shoulders and make you feel weightless and treasured or teach you things with a flattering, singular focus as he held your sticky little-kid hand in his.
I specifically remember my dad coming home from long deployments. My brothers and I would wait in the airport for him, impatient and kicking each other while my mom exercised the patience of one up for canonization. Suddenly my dad would appear in the sea of strange faces, looking familiar and handsome in his neatly pressed Navy uniform. I would light up and take off at a tear, my miniature legs moving as fast as they could as I greeted him with an exuberant, “Daddy, DADDY!”
I remember those times, and I miss them. Because of childhood and nostalgia and blah blah blah, sure, but also because it was a simpler time, a time when the word Daddy only made me think of my dad and home. Because now Daddy means something much different to me, and I’m pretty sure I have the Internet to thank for it.
There is no such thing as too much Cole Sprouse.
Listen, I’m not here to kink shame anyone. In this age of 4K porn and endless ideas, we’re all into weird stuff. Possibly to the point where preferring vanilla sex and missionary anything might be the weirdest kinks of all. But can we just agree that it’s bizarre how often and shamelessly the word ‘Daddy’ is thrown around publicly?
To be fair, I probably ask for this constant exposure to manic sexual outbursts since I regularly troll the Instagrams of every Direction. That doesn’t mean I’m not still shocked at how many people just post ‘daddy’ or ‘yes daddy’ or ‘please more daddy’, only for me to click on their username and see that the commenter’s last photo is one of them winning the freshman year spelling bee. Yes, that was a real thing that happened in my life. Her victory ribbon was spitefully huge and her braces were the kind with criss-cross rubber bands. At least the latter explains her aggressive internet persona.
Picture property of @fakeliampayne, poetry courtesy of @its_shaara
It’s an outspoken subculture that’s rampant on tumblr, twitter, and instagram, one full of people who feel compelled to splatter the comment sections of their favorite celebrities with all manner of come-ons that seem better suited for a nice, mutually-agreed upon sexual roleplay between adults. But aside from the obvious commentary of ‘maybe don’t post gross stuff on stranger’s photos’, there’s something to be said for how normalized the Daddy kink has become.
Whether it’s progress, I’m not sure. It certainly is a positive thing that stigmas are being slowly stripped away from self-expression and that young (and some creepy old) people feel comfortable letting their freak flags fly. But then again, some things are better kept behind closed doors, and I personally feel that one’s desire to beg for mercy and thank god should be kept chief among them.