Just Call Me “Daddy…”

My right palm was clenched on the back of your thigh while I grabbed the back of your neck, and forced you against me. Your slight resistance only intoxicated me further, enraging the flow of my blood. Your lips got poutier, your breath slower and your young, crystal blue eyes lost focus, looking aimlessly in all directions until they were locked with mine.
Under a clear black sky in a public place we forgot where we were. A couple of tourists passed, noticing us in a heated embrace. Caught in the act. But we didn’t give a fuck. It was 2 am. We were just getting started…

I’ve been called everything, from a beast to a gentleman, a coward to courageous, careless to caring. Admitted, I’m no saint but the persona gallery of my female encounters, sexual and romantic, has been nuanced and diverse – and still is. But the one thing they had in common was this: they were searching for a father figure. And for some reason, they spotted that in me. Whether it’s the suit, the fact that I prefer scotch over cocktails, classical over hip-hop it’s a continuing occurrence. And I don’t mind it one bit.

In the courting scene, there are several images you can project: The good guy, the listener, the bad boy, the party freak, etc. You’ve met them. Personally, the party freak always end up pissing me off. He’s a boy – nothing more; a confused boy who has build up the intellectual capacity to locate his dick and perfect his annoying smirk.
But the one image that beats them all is: the fatherly image – her daddy. And here’s why: The father figure appeals to both feminists, traditional women and the girl who just got out of college. And it’s because of one thing: biology.

If you don’t believe me, I’m going to use one powerful metaphor – one figure that excites women across income, race, educational background and political beliefs: Don Draper.

When Mad Men was released it became a soaring hit. But what was interesting was with whom: higher income families.

Why is that interesting? Well, if you look deeper, higher income families are usually higher educated, meaning that the mothers most certainly are independent and have important jobs. The younger audience, around 25, are from a newer generation, living in a time where they are free to live out their independent dreams and know of the female struggle of their mother’s generation.

Still, Don Draper is desired across the two generations: mother and daughter. Don cuts through all the intellectual layers and penetrate women on a deeper level.

Don Draper is the man a mother, a feminist, a therapist, well, every one with common sense will raise a red flag against. Don’s a sociopath, he’s emotionally unavailable, selfish, fierce, a compulsive smoker (always an alluring trait) and he treats his women with little to no care at all. But, at the same time, he’s present – dangerously present in the moment. His words are precise and delivered in the most powerful allure.
His stare is intense and his body language composed. He’s both a father figure and “the bad boy.”
To feminists – young and old, and different women, his habits and style remind them of either their father or their father’s generation. Women’s first object of devotion is “daddy”, and Don evokes that spark in certain ways.

The kinky, daredevil aspect of Don’s personality entices women. Women are adventurists. And in their deepest, physical desires they live for the power play. Maybe not all the time, but in that moment where it really matters.

“Now I understand. You want to feel shitty, right up until the point where I take your dress off. Because I’m going to do that. You want to skip dinner, fine, but don’t pretend.”
– don draper

Don Draper is the latest example of a desired anti-hero who has gone under a woman’s skin in these times of equality. He’s an extreme because as men get softer, a woman will seek a more extreme counter-example. And Don’s a perfect fit. Women echo his name as the perfect figure of machismo. And before Don Draper, it was Mr. Big from Sex and the City, another  worshipped selfish daddy figure.

I’m not comparing myself with Don Draper. Some women have done that comparison at certain moments but I suspect it was aimed at something else. And I’m not telling you, you should aspire to become a Don Draper. He’s fiction, you’re not. But when a women calls you “daddy” the next time or say the magic words: “You remind me of my father…” she just unlocked the door. The next step for you to figure out is: “Where did I leave my key?”