Tag: gay parents

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I watched lovingly as Jason kissed Caroline’s feet, then blew raspberry’s on them, making her giggle. She never took her eyes off her Daddy though. She was captivated by his face. I thought I was going to break into a million little pieces from how adorable they were. I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t speak either, without crying, so I just filmed and filmed.

Jason smiled at Caroline, then looked at me. “You know it almost feels like a mistake.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Well it’s just… the judge just gave her to us when your sister skipped out with her druggy boyfriend. They were like, ok you’re totally responsible for this helpless, fragile little person and are in charge with not psychologically damaging her until she’s 18 have fun bye!. I mean…wow. I can’t believe it. How did we get so lucky?”
I move his backpack out of the way and scoot up to him. “I feel the same way. Every time I pick her up, I’m scared I’ll drop her, hurt her. I read every food label, watch for every sharp corner, check her clothes for loose threads even. And then I’ll go do something stupid like lock my keys in the car, forget to charge my phone, or break a dish or something, and I can’t believe someone let me have a baby.”
Jason chuckles. Caroline giggles with him and he tickles her. “Yeah I feel that way too. More than anything, I’m so glad to be home Ryan. Away from the desert. Away from loneliness. It was hell.” His voice gets still and distant.
I put an arm on his shoulder. “Well then this is heaven ok?”
The cold expression on his face melts. “Yeah. It really is. I got that new desk job at the base. 9-5. Gonna be home plenty now. I can pick her up from school when she’s older, sneak her out for ice cream, get us in trouble with you for spoiling our dinner…”
I chuckle. “God you are going to be a great father.”
“I hope I am. I can’t disappoint her.”
“You won’t. You haven’t. Look – she hasn’t taken her eyes off of you for a second. She’s smitten with you.”
Jason glances at me. “I think you have some serious competition, Ryan.”
I laugh this time, then lean in so I can kiss Jason. “Well, I think I’m going to get more kisses.”
“You think?”
“Well, she’s only been around what? A month? You owe me some serious make out sessions,” I tease.
Jason smirks. “And I am going to give them back to you tenfold. You’re going to have trouble walking for a year when I’m through with you.”
“I can only hope.”
“Hey,” Jason says. I lift my head up. “A military man always keeps his promises.”

___________________
Text is fictional.

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There’s a photo I keep folded in my wallet. When smartphones
became a thing, I slid it between my phone and the case. It goes everywhere with me, a treasure thing. That print is a copy though, as is the 8 x 10 facsimile on the mantel in my parents’ living room. I
keep the original in a safe deposit box. The negative is long gone, and
if I lost the original cause I’d lost my phone, I’d be devastated.

I first saw the picture when I was 11. We had
been talking about genealogy in school and my parents took out the
albums to show me old family photos. Each of my parents had their own
albums, up until when they met, and then they merged into one. This photo
however, didn’t have its own page. It was in an envelope, with other
miscellaneous photos from college tucked in the back of an album. When I saw it, I
snatched it up from obscurity.

I still remember that when I first
saw it, I felt completely still. When you’re a child on the cusp of
becoming a self-aware individual, you begin to notice more and more how
your parents interactive with each-other. My parents had always been
close. Mushy, even. When I became into a teenager, I rolled my eyes a
lot and made lots of huffing noises about how they were embarrassing me, gawd! Still,
I was mostly giving them a hard time because I refused to let them see
how much that picture had impacted me. I was scared I would never find
someone who loved me like that.

Their lips aren’t even
touching in the shot, maybe an inch away. Their eyes are closed, and
they’re leaning into each-other. Daddy’s hand’s curled around Papa’s shoulder. Papa is pressed up against Daddy. The kiss is inevitable. What I like most about
them is how natural they look, so casual. Nothing is forced, or cheesy,
or over-thought out. They’re not holding hands or gazing into
each-other’s eyes like Disney characters. They’re just…them.

Papa has told me the backstory so many times I have memorized it by heart:

This was taken in 1958. It says so on the back, so it’s right. We’d just finished our sophomore year of university. Eddie
had a good part-time job at the auto repair center, and he’d repaired
this truck that came in with a bad transmission. Since the owner’s son
was back for the summer and could take over Eddie’s work, we decided to
take a summer road-trip before school started again.

First, we drove from upstate New York to Indiana to visit Eddie’s dad’s side of family. From
there, we just drove West, to see Yellowstone, and even though our
butts were sore, we kept going all the way to see the
Redwoods in California. And it was under one of those big trees that your Daddy asked
to marry me, even though it was a ridiculous idea and illegal at the
time. [pause as Papa swallows his emotions] I must have been in
high heaven after that or something, cause I don’t remember anything
until until we made it to the ocean; we camped there for a few days
cause the truck’s oil pan was leaking and there was some problem with
the radiator.

The drive back was really long. We were both so sick of
each-other when we finally got back to New York. [insert a laugh here] We
didn’t see much of each-other over the rest of the summer, cause we
were both working, but we moved in together for our junior year and
after that it was ok again. [pause] My roommate at the time,
Judie, took this photo of us right before we left as a commemorative
shot. I looked her up some time ago. She married a banker and did
alright for herself. When I told her we were still together and had
adopted, she was not surprised one bit. Yeah…those were the days. God, Eddie was so devilishly handsome at that age with all that tussled blond hair wasn’t he? [at this point, Eddie says: ‘What, I’m not still devilishly handsome?” and they laugh]

What’s
also ridiculous is that it now looks like this photo could have been
taken yesterday. It’s hard to believe that the
shot and the people in are now over fifty years old. I never tire
of looking at it though, because like love my parents share, the photo
is timeless.

__________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. Tracked the photo to Instagram but no IDs beyond that.

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Lachlan was examining an old book of costume designs for details to borrow for illustrations when he heard a knock at the door. He was both relieved and annoyed by the sound. He needed a distraction, but he bothered that inspiration wasn’t coming to him. The illustrations were due in two days and he hadn’t done the linework – not to mention the coloring! Ugh, it was going to be overtime for sure. The other drawings
for the Richman campaign came to him instantly; he’d propped them up to
remind himself he didn’t suck at his job.

Lachlan sighed and closed the book. “Yes?” He glanced up at his secretary, a smiley, plump blonde woman.
“Um,”
she said, pointing a pencil toward the front of the office, “Your
husband is here. He’s bouncing off the walls, demanding he has to see
you ASAP.”
“Is something wrong?” Lachlan asked, already striding to the door.
“No, quite the opposite, I think.”

Their head illustrator was already running past her to the waiting area.
“Julian?” he called.
Julian
heard Lachlan’s voice and jogged toward him. He was grinning so hard his
cheeks hurt, all his teeth on display. “Come here, I gotta tell you something.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed a very confused Lachlan by the sleeve and dragged him back into his office and
shut the door tight.
“Julian what’s going on?”
“Lach they picked us!” He leapt into his husband’s arms.
“Ooof!” Lachlan exhaled in surprise as he found his arms full of a petit brunet.
“They picked us!” Julian crowed.
“Who picked what?” Lachlan insisted.
Julian
kissed him hard. Lachlan did not dislike that, but was a tad embarrassed to
be receiving that in front of an open window. “My goodne-“
“The
adoption agency called. Couple 17, the teenagers we met two weeks ago? They liked our profile, the book we
sent them, the photos… It’s really happening Lachlan. They’ve picked us to adopt their daughter
when she’s born.”
“…What?” Lachlan breathed, shocked.
Julian smiled. “We’re going to be parents.”
All
the air left Lachlan’s throat. He worked his jaw, but nothing came out.
Tears sprung to his eyes. Julian wiped them away with his sleeve. “Us.
Parents. It’s really happening.”
“Oh my god,” Lachlan sputtered. He let
Julian down so he could hug him properly in a bone-crushing grasp.
“You’re 100% serious? They’ve picked us? Why?”
Julian giggled,
overexcited. “Yes. Our adoption counselor didn’t want to spill all over
the phone, but she said for both teenagers, there’s lot of
religious mania in the families. Huge homophobes, too. The teens said they wanted their kid to
have a “modern life” as they put it.”
“…Are you saying being a gay couple ended up working for us? After all that rejection?”
"That’s what I’m saying.”

Lachlan stared at Julian, trying to digest this. He let out a whoop and punched
the air. They made so much noise that Cathy knocked on the door.

“Um, is everything ok there in Lach?”
He went to the door to reassure their receptionist. “No it’s great! It’s fucking great! I’m going to be a dad!!”

When Lachlan’s boss found out about his and Julian’s adoption success, he took everyone in the small company out for lunch and drinks. People kept buying Lachlan and Julian drinks and the couple got a bit too drunk. Lachlan was given the rest of the day off, and Julian escorted him home.

They stumbled in through the door to their house, then made love on the sofa. As he was lying there, out of breath, delirious with happiness and cuddling a napping Julian, Lachlan suddenly had the inspiration for the drawings he was stuck on at work. He was feverishly sketching when Julian came to fetch him for dinner. After a nice meal, he went right back to his office to put down the basics for the colors. When he was done with the preliminary work, Lachlan didn’t even take a break before moving on to the next drawing project: designing the nursery.

____________________

Text is fictional.

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“Have you seen my coffee? I set it down some-”
“I put it by your keys so you wouldn’t forget it.”
“Ugh, you know me so well,” he chuckles.
I smile. “I do. Don’t forgot we have dinner with my parents after work.”
“Uh huh,” he says, hurredly shuffling papers into his briefcase. “Didn’t forget. I won’t be late.”
“Good. I’ll meet you there with Olivia. I’m taking her to her check-up at 9, and then getting groceries.”
“Don’t forget barbeque sauce,” he says, latching the case.
I blink. “Oh that’s not on the list, thank you. Did you have enough to eat?”
“Yes. I gotta go love. Gonna be late.”
“Hey hey wait!”
“What?” he asks, a bit flustered.
I grab his tie and pull him in for a kiss. “Just that.” I begin to release him. “Oh, and one other thing.” I pull him close to me again and whisper in his ear. “I’m going to come by at lunch-time and let you fuck me in the bathroom.”
He’s speechless. I give him another kiss on the cheek and smile as I smooth his tie. “Have a nice day at work, honey.”
“I – I will,” he stammers. “Thank you.”

He gives me a hungry look, then reluctantly leaves for work. Two minutes later, I’m chasing him down the driveway with the portable coffee container in my hand, Olivia squealing happily at my side.

____________________________________________________________
Text is 100% fictional. The gif is from the TV show Shameless, but the text is not intended to portray their characters.

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holdmelikeiwanttorunaway:

Everyone wants to have someones arms wrapped around them when they fall asleep at night. 

You hear the cries first. It pierces your rest like a sharp piece of glass. With great difficulty, you pull yourself away from the warm embrace of sleep. The baby is still crying. Your lover stirs under you, but you speak up first. “No, I’ll go.”
“But itsh my turn,” he slurs, mostly sleep still.
“Go back to sleep,” I say firmly. He worked a long shift today.
He doesn’t need another second to reconsider this and immediately dozes back off. You sigh and extract yourself from your comfort spot – latched onto his back like a koala. You sigh again as you get out of bed and your skin prickles in the cool air. You find your way into a bathrobe and stumble down the hallway like a zombie.

The baby is red faced and flailing. You smile when he stops crying to look at you with big blue eyes. He’s really cute, even when he’s waking you up in the middle of the night. Those cheeks! Those dimples! The tiny fingers! You transport the infant to the changing table and with practiced motions, whisk away the soiled diaper, clean the infant, and fix a new diaper in place. During the day you use cloth, but at night, you use disposable ones. Thank god, you think, yet again congratulating yourself on that idea.

The baby is still fussy, so you amble to the kitchen with the kid latched on your shoulder. With your eyes mostly closed, you wash your hands. Then, you prepare a bottle, test it on your wrist, and let the child nurse pressed up against your bare chest. You nod off but snap to attention when you remember what you’re doing. A long yawn follows. The baby burps in a timely fashion and is put back to bed; despite your fatigue you tuck him in carefully and make sure he is comfortable. You linger over his crib until he falls asleep.

It’s only then are you free to return to the paradise that is your own warm bed, complete with the thermal body of your beloved Sam. You slip out of the bathrobe and dive in, hurrying to be attached to him again.

Sam stirs. “Hey, e’rythin ok?”
“Yeah, the Goober’s fine.”
He smiles and chuffs through his nose. “I love that you’re such a good father to our baby. Its sexy,” he says. Or you think he says, as it all comes out as one long, slurred word.
You pause a moment, wondering if you heard that correctly. He said “our”. He hasn’t said that before now. It was always “his” baby, or when Sam was speaking, “my” baby. Technically, it wasn’t even his.

For a while, you two and Sam had an open relationship after years of waffling between on and off monogamy. Sam made the mistake of having one drunken night with a ex, only to wake up sober and discover she’d gotten six times more crazier since he’d left.

Not long after, Sam found out she was pregnant. They were gonna make it work. She had gotten her fix of attention during the nine months of pregnancy, but was over the whole motherhood thing an hour after a rather uncomfortable delivery. When she found out Sam was bisexual, and his lover had been a man, she said the baby boy was “tainted” and planned to leave town. Since Sam had used a condom, he had gotten a paternity test. The baby wasn’t his. Sam went over to her house to confront her the night she was leaving and they had gotten in a huge fight. She was going to be leaving town with some deadbeat that had blond hair suspiciously like the baby boy. Sam took a hair he found on the sofa, the baby, and left. The DNA in the hair matched the infant’s profile.

Sam knew he was not legally obligated to care for the infant, but to do so was a great miscarriage of justice. Turning that sweet, perfect baby over to a drug-dipping deadbeat with Aryan facial tattoos and no GED was a textbook recipe for trauma. Sam kept the baby as his own, and it brought his relationship with you to a new place. A closer, more intimate place where you were now a family instead of just a couple.

Then Sam had proposed. You said yes. The wedding was in a few weeks, and you could barely wait.

You snuggle up to your beau, infatuated with him and lovesick. The magnitude of passion you feel toward him and that small helpless baby in the other room overwhelms you sometimes. You’re tired, and part of you just wants to cry with bliss. Sam presses back against you.

He keeps pressing. You’re surprised he’s still awake. Your groin begins to stir as his round little butt keeps brushing against your silk boxers, right over where your cock has nested for the night. You grunt.
“Sam…” you say.
“Mnnng…” he replies, still rubbing. You reach over and down and feel for his cock. It’s hard and jutting straight forward. Not hard to miss. Sam makes a content noise when you play with it.

You’re not quite sure if you are dreaming all of this, but you have to be, because there’s no way you can stay awake. Yet, you find yourself reaching backwards for the nightstand drawer. In the dark, you fumble, and find a condom and lube. You tear it open with your teeth and roll it on; you open the lube one handed and drip it everywhere. You slick up your own cock, then toss the closed lube bottle on the floor.

“Hold still,” you whisper. Sam stills. You put a leg over his hips and position the blunt tip of our cock against him. In one motion, you’re in him, and Sam moans. He hasn’t gotten laid properly in two weeks. You’re in him, and he’s magnificent. Sam undulates against you and you make love to him gently. You kiss his shoulder and reach again for his impressive cock. The pace accelerates from zero to sixty in three seconds. You work your hips quickly; you both tense, and then it’s over. Sam cums into your hand; you fill the condom. It takes a tremendous effort to move again. You wipe your hand on a tissue and rip off the condom. You just leave it open in the trashcan, there’s no energy left in you to tie it.

Sam is asleep again, smiling now. You can tell, his breathing has changed. A feeling of comfort settles over you, of paternal belonging and satisfaction in your roll as a man of the house. You’ve taken care of your offspring. You’ve pleased your man. All is good in your house and domain.

The night is now yours. You cling to Sam, and fall back asleep.

__________________
Text is fictional.

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“Oh hey, there you are,” I say, climbing out of the window and up to him on the roof.
“Shit,” he mutters, immediately trying to hide his cigarette.
“No no, it’s ok. You can smoke.”
“I can? You hate when I smoke.”
“Just one,” I say, settling next to him. “You’re under a lot of stress, but I don’t want you hooked again.”
He takes a long drag and exhales. “Thanks.”
I sit next to him in silence for a few minutes.
“What am I going to do?” John asks forlornly, “I am totally fucked.”
“You’re not fucked,” I assured him.

“Yes I am! I totally am, and I deserve it all. I finally, finally got the courage to admit the reason my marriage wasn’t working was because I’m gay. I found a great man, a man I could love, and I had the audacity to think I might actually be happy. I thought Sharon would be happier too, but then…” he taps the ashes off the cigarette and inhales again. “She gets pregnant. From the time I meet her to the day I marry her, she goes on and on about how she hates kids, doesn’t want kids, detests motherhood, etc, etc…and now she’s like "oh I want to keep it.”
I don’t know what to say.
“And she did this on purpose.”
“Why on earth would you say that?”
John puffs out his cheeks. “Because her brother told me she suspected I was cheating. And so when I took the trash out, I dug that nasty condom out from the bottom of the trash bag – there was a hole in it.”

“Jesus christ, John,” I gasp.
“So now! Nooow. We have to raise a kid she doesn’t want, and that kid will be raised by parents that don’t love each-other. And I’m going to lose you.” His voice cracks.
I rub his back in soothing circles. “I am not going anywhere.”
“But…but why?” he sniffles. “I’ve been a horrible person. I don’t deserve you.”
“Because I love you,” I say, kissing his temple, “And you’re going through a very hard time and you’re all alone. You need someone for support. And honestly, I think you should leave her. Poking holes in condoms is psychotic. Children are not bartering tools. Once you tell her you’re breaking up with her, she’s going to realize she’s gonna deal with that kid all by herself and she will…will…” I trail off, realizing the mess I’ve gotten myself into.
John’s voice is very small. “I can’t let her abort it.”
“Then let’s do this. Wait until it’s too far along to abort, then tell her you’re breaking up with her. She’ll have the kid, she won’t want the kid, and we’ll raise it.”
John blinks at me. “What?? Us?”
“You always wanted kids didn’t you? You love kids, you get along with my niece fantastically.” I’m pleased to see him blush a little. “We’ll give her an exit.”
“But you haven’t even known me a year yet…”
“But we have our whole lives ahead of us John,” I reply. “And hey, I sort of gave up on the idea of being a dad when I found out I was gay. This can benefit all of us, if we play the cards right.”

John just looks straight ahead, trying to keep his emotions in check. I take the cigarette out of his fingers before it burns his skin and stub it out on the roof. He sniffles. “I’ve never felt so fucked, and so lucky at the same time. Ugh, I should save that condom, for evidence.”
“eew…but you’re right,” I chuckle. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be ok.”
He leans against me and sighs. “It’s going to be alright.”
“Yes, it’s going to be alright.”
“Eli?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
I put an arm around him and snuggle him close. “I love you too.”

__________________
Text is fictional.

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“Mmmnn!…mmnnnff you taste nice. You taste like wine and chocolate.”
“You just taste like you.”
“Oh the shirt’s coming off. I like. I love your body babe,” I murmur, exploring his torso with splayed hands. “So fucking sexy. Makes me horny.”
“I love that you think I’m sexy,” he says in a low, sensual voice. “You know what I’m gonna do to you?”
“Mmm what? Kiss me?”
He presses his soft lips to mine. “Yes, and?”
“And what?” I ask, half paying attention.
“I’m going to take you to bed and touch your penis,” he whispers in this rich voice that makes goosebumps rise on my skin.
“Are you now?” I manage, my mouth dry.
“Yeah baby. We’ve been so busy lately, it just drives me nuts to have it be so close to me yet trapped in your shorts where I can’t get it.”
“You like touching my cock?” I whisper into his mouth.
“Yeah I do baby. It’s so fat and thick, it fits perfectly in my hand. I love to make it silky and hot, and I love to feel it grow under my fingers.”
I moan, my pants feeling two sizes too small.
“And you know what I’m going to do after that?”
“What?” I beg.
“I’m going to touch your testicles.”
I moan even louder.
“I’m going to roll them in my fingers, move them around in your sac. Make you nice and horny for me, turn you into a pliant little succubus.”
“Then are you gonna fuck me…?”
“If you don’t spill all your seed, you horny little boy, then yes. I know you haven’t been filled properly in way too long.” He punctuates this with another kiss. “You will beg for every inch I g-”

WWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!

We both jump a little, then emit twin groans of sheer frustration. I lock my fingers behind my neck and puff out my cheeks, he just balls his fists and counts to ten.
“Fuck,” he spits. “We just put her to bed, why is she crying so early?”

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHh WAAAHH!

I feel like crying too. “I’m never gonna get my dick touched again at this rate.”
He kisses my forehead. “Yes you are. I’m going to go see what she wants.”
“Isn’t it my turn?”
“Stay,” he commands, using that bossy voice I like so much. I huff in frustration and collapse onto the bed, waiting for Romero to come back into the room. I brush my teeth and fondle myself through my shorts to keep my half erection alive. Romero returns about fifteen minutes later.

I sit back down on the bed. “Remind me why we adopted a baby again? Why not a four year old? We could have skipped all of this.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Because you’re baby crazy, and because a baby needed us at that time. She’ll know nothing else but us. We’ve raised her since her 3rd day of life, it makes her ours more than anything.”
“Still can’t believe Elyse is actually ours,” I say. Romero has sat next to me and I nuzzle noses with him.
“Mm she’s pretty wonderful isn’t she? I just changed her and got out that burp we didn’t get after her last bottle.”
“You’re such a good daddy.”
He doesn’t hesitate to respond. “Because you give me the courage.”
“Do I?” Our lips meet once more. “So…does this mean, in thanks, you’re going to touch my dick now?”

Romero tugs on the waistband of my sweatpants. “Oh, that’s inevitable.”

_____________________________
Text is fictional. Source unknown.

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Enjoying one more round of carefree sex before our lives change forever. One more Sunday wasted indoors, tangled in each-other’s limbs, twisted up in stained sheets, kissing each other like we’re starved for love. One more day with no responsibilities or cares in the world, but when the next orgasm is coming. I crave the wonderful warmth of his cock pressed against mine, his blood throbbing in his veins, the taste of his skin. I get high off his laugh, his smile.

Tomorrow, we bring the baby home from the hospital. We stop being Jake and Evan and start being Papa and Daddy to a little girl whose family cannot take care of her. The first Monday of the rest of our lives. 18 years, at least, with another body in this house needing our attention. Having a baby will strain our relationship and push us to the brink of frustration, but I know when that happens I’ll remember this Sunday and how much I fuckin’ love him and everything will be alright.

_____________
Text is fictional.

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I went to stay with my Uncle Jim because my parents were fighting so much. Uncle Jim lived with this guy named Antoine. My parents used to say bad things about them, but I didn’t really understand how they could be right. Uncle Jim and Antoine were incredibly nice people, kept to themselves. I could talk to Uncle Jim about anything when my parents were being scary or mom had too much to drink, even at 3 am, curled up in the bathroom with the phone.

When I moved in, I thought I’d be sleeping on the sofa but it seemed Uncle Jim and Antoine moved into the same room together so I could have the guest room. It looks like they did it a while ago. Maybe they anticipated I’d be coming? I settled in. Got back in school.

One night, about three weeks into my staying there, I was about to go to bed when I realized I’d forgotten to do the problems for math class. Too distracted by a history paper. I’d left my math notebook in my backpack by the front door, so I left my room to go get it. From the hallway, I saw something I thought maybe I shouldn’t have seen.

Antoine was on top of Uncle Jim and kissing him. It wasn’t an accident; it was in a very specific way. They were pressed together in their underwear. Uncle was massaging Antoine’s ass with his hands; Antoine was groaning. I bit my lip, trying not to make even a sound by breathing. I slowly, slowly tip-toed back to my room and closed the door with great care. I could do the problems in the morning before class. I sat down on my bed and thought about what I’d just seen, and then it hit me.

When mom and dad used to call Uncle Jim a “fag”, they weren’t calling him a wuss, they were insulting him for being gay. And Uncle Jim and Antoine hadn’t moved into the same room together, they slept in the same bed already because… “they’re a couple.” I said it out loud. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense – the way they acted together, sat next to each other. How could I have not seen it before? It was so obvious. They were in love, so in love. And they welcomed me here, to live with them. I exhaled slowly. I heard a groan even through my door and turned red.

They thought I was asleep. I should act like I am, not say a word. I got into bed and turned out the light but I didn’t sleep for a long time. I was up thinking about how two men could love each other with the same intensity that my parents hated each other. I had never really thought about how I felt about gay men before.. but when I finally fell asleep at 2 in the morning, I still wanted to stay.

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Text is fictional. The men are Nubius and Scorpio – not even kidding – from nextdoorebony.com

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lovenlife4me:

Being fathers is getting our daughters up at 5:30 am making breakfast getting them dressed for school and putting them on the bus by 6:30 .This is a typical day in our household . It’s not easy but we enjoy every moment and eveny minute of #fatherhood . #proudfathers #blackfathers #prouddads #gaydads

DAMN LUCKY LIL GIRLS!!!!

Now this is how I see the future of humanity, especially the US. Not every gay family looks like Neil Patrick Harris’s photographic little bunch. Mixed race families are gonna grow, gay families are gonna grow, and there is gonna be some cross over. All families should be accepted, just as straight families are, because they share the common goal of raising kids in loving, stable homes. Even one parent or three parents is better than no love at all too.

(Just a quick note – this isn’t the original poster’s family, it came from his friend’s Instagram account.)