Daddy gay solo

With Pride celebration season around the corner, my social feeds are filling up again—photos of chiseled abs, cocktails in hand, selfies bathed in glitter filters. Flights booked, parties planned, dates lined up. I know the scene. I lived it. I traveled, I partied, I loved hard—and for a time, that existence fit me.

But eventually, I wanted something else. Something deeper. I chose to love differently. To build a place. To become a father—all by my lonesome.

I’ve always established I wanted to be a dad. I was in a long-term bond, but my boyfriend didn’t want kids. That difference, more than anything, was our swansong. I tried co-parenting with a friend, but it didn’t undergo right. I realized I didn’t just want to be a father—I wanted to raise my children my way, make the giant decisions, shape the future they’d increase into.

So, at 45, I started the surrogacy process—solo. I looked into my options, did the research, and chose Thailand. It was a logistical nightmare. Expensive, distant, complicated. I sold my apartment in Tel Aviv and moved into

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