Sweet Victory

As a young boy, many many years ago, I never had that conversation with my father. THAT conversation, the one about sex. The relationship we had, such as it was, just would not, could not, broach that very intimate topic. From within my emotional bunker, I kept my mouth shut, and my eyes and ears wide open. I heard a lot of stories, crazy insane stories from the world at large. The Playboy Advisor was a key reference found in discarded magazines, months out of date.

And as the years passed, I'd have to unlearn a lot of silly, stupid, and idiotic things. A lot of effort was wasted, a lot of time lost, a lot of ignorance wallowed in. Often I've wondered why things needed to be so difficult. Thinking back on the type of man my father was, and the way he related to me, I keep coming back to the only conclusion possible. There was simply no other way for things to be for us. 

Fast forward decades and now I've got children of my own. Careful not to repeat the mistakes my parents made with me, I've surely repeated many, and inflicted a good number of my own making. Just as surely as I've looked back ruefully at the failings of my own parents, I look ahead to the inevitability of my own kids reflections on my many failings. It sometimes just feels like there's nothing you can do to change things up.

Tonight my nine year old son asked me about THAT subject, the talk about sex. I've always tried to be gently encouraging about this topic, but was not very hopeful, as I just didn't really expect it, deep down in my gut. He and I were alone in our car, and while I passed the Game Stop we were headed to because I lost track of where we were, we had a great talk about his interest and curiosity about sex. It was GREAT!

Like most, I have that mug that says "#1 DAD" and I loved getting it, and displaying it, but I often don't feel worthy of it. Tonight it felt so right!

Sweet Victory! ...and Victory is Mine!

...tonight, anyway.