Oedipus in Opposite
or, why I have a thing for “Daddies”

Disclaimer: I’m talking about Age play as it relates to two adults, interacting as a daddy and a little girl – NOT about chronological children and their biological parents

(Note: It’s taken me all evening to write this: four hours. This has been a difficult journey for me, but one that I’m glad I took)

I’ve been stewing about writing about age play all day. I keep glancing over the “topic list” and stopping there, pausing, and then continuing on. But I got an email from a dear friend tonight who sealed my fate in writing about this.

This is a tough subject for me. For a couple of reasons, but mainly because at one time, a couple years ago, when I brought the idea of age play up to C, he initially balked. I think his feelings have changed some, and we’ve talked about it – age play that is – as it relates to us, but I don’t think he’s quite there yet.

Maybe this will help. (Although, getting there will be tough. Bear with me.)

I never understood age play, until one night while I was still living in Cheyenne, having a phone conversation with M. This was maybe 2 weeks after I’d gone to California to meet him for the first time, and before he came to Wyoming. We’d been on the phone for quite some time, and I’d gotten very comfortable lying on the sofa. I was starting to drift off, into my “safe little place”, and feeling cozy and warm.

M had a habit of calling me “his little girl”. When he first started doing it, I didn’t think of thing of it. It was just a sweet nickname that I enjoyed. He sent me cards with Kim Anderson pictures on them. It all seemed very cute and cuddly and warm and I felt really good about it.

Anyway, during this phone conversation, something – changed – for me. I wish I could pinpoint it for you. Hell, I wish I could pinpoint it for myself. It took me awhile to work up the nerve, but I finally asked him if I could call him “Daddy”, and he enthusiastically agreed.

A few days later, I picked up my dog-eared copy of Different Loving, and looked it up, reading each word voraciously. I felt like I had come – well, home.

When M came out to visit weeks later, we continued using age play as a part of our relationship. It wasn’t full time, but it was included at various stages, and the sex that accompanied it was out of this world . Even after I had moved to California, we kept it up.

For awhile, anyway.

One evening, during an innocuous conversation on the sofa, he revealed something about himself that made me want to put a stop to the whole age play thing with him. I didn’t say it to him then (never did, actually), but he’d pretty much creeped me out.

But the desire for it stayed with me.

We did talk about it after that, and we did actively do some of it, but it never felt like that safe comfortable place for me again. When our relationship ended, despite my creepy feelings about the revelation he’d made, I still felt like I lost a daddy as well as a dominant and lover. (As an aside, he told me once that during sex, he never knew who he’d look down and see: Screamer, his submissive. Kanthra, his dominant, or Marie, his little girl. He said that each of them had a different face, and he always took his cue from whoever started to appear.)

I missed it. Really missed it. When I initially brought it up to C, he said it didn’t feel right for him, so I set it aside. I’m not sure, to be honest, how much his opinion has changed, but I’m imagining this will get a conversation about it going when he gets home.

This isn’t something that I’d want to do full time. But slipping into a relationship at various times can be very powerful.

So, why do I like it?

My alter-ego is about 12 or 13. She’s shy. She’s eager to please. She wants more than anything to make Daddy proud and happy. She knows she doesn’t always succeed. She hates to be punished. She loves Daddy’s attention.

There’s a very strong punishment aspect to age play for me. It’s much like the entry where I talked about pain: Pain causes me to cry sometimes, which is something that I don’t always ‘allow’ myself to do.. Crying is exponentially more acceptable for a 12 year old girl than a 38 year old woman in my mind. I find it easier to get to the tears when I’m *there*.

It’s not all about pain in age play for me though. Scolding can be just as powerful. When I’m bad, I can be punished and it’s *over*. No need to drag it out. No need to feel guilty for it. It’s done and over with. (This comes into play for all punishment for me, not just age play.) I have huge issues with guilt, which I’ll get into later.

Feeling safe, even when I’ve done something wrong is very powerful for me. I always know that Daddy will still love me, even when I fuck up. I’ll admit, I’m pretty jaded about adult relationships in that way. It’s not like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop all the time, but I take my mistakes *much* harder at 38 than I do when I’m “12”.

During age play, I feel very safe and… (Are you ready for this?)

Cared for.

I’m a caretaker. I take care of everyone else. When I was with M, I took care of him – of his daughters – his house – his mental health (ugh, don’t ask). Now, I take care of C – laundry, making sure he has everything he needs for work, making sure that everything is done so he has nothing he has to worry about *except* work. It’s all on me. But I’m the one who put it there – no one else. And I like it that way.

Most of the time.

During age play, I’m the one who is… (Ready again?)

Cared for.

Be it being cuddled and held, or taken in hand and shown the right path, I’m being taken care of.

That isn’t something I do well, in a normal day. I’m used to being the one who does it, not has it done FOR her. It’s difficult for me to let go and enjoy being taken care of. But it’s easy for her to do it, because she doesn’t have a choice. She does it because it’s what Daddy wants.

It allows me to escape the responsibility of knowing every right from every wrong. It allows me to break away from the stereotypical Type-A personality that I’ve perfected over the years. In submission, that’s a “sometimes” (because, as a submissive, I’m also a caretaker, which comes with responsibilities and such). But in age play, it’s an always.

It allows me to be naïve. Innocent. I can still have things I need to learn – about life, about Daddy, about sex. These are not options for a normal 38 year old woman. Hell, they weren’t an option for me when I was chronologically 12.

Maybe that’s why it fits so well with me.

Or maybe, it’s just because I’m a perv.