Having grown up without a father at home and in a house full of women, when my son was born I was nervous to say the least. Nervous because as my wife earned more in an hour than I did in a day, I was chosen to be the primary carer. What archive of knowledge would I draw from? Skippy perhaps.
Fast forward to when my boy’s halfway through 16 and we’re sitting at a service station. Sitting in the queue for a bowser and it becomes obvious we have to have “the talk”. I never had the talk.
I’m listening to my son and as an aside I’m going through that constant conflict – will I buy ethanol ‘enhanced’ fuel or real petrol. Ethanol is a myth. I remember back to a mate telling me about the talk he had with his father.
His dad puts him on the back of the Harley and they ride from Sydney to Canberra. They get off and his dad says, “Son we’re going to have a talk about sex.” My mate says, “What do you want to know?” His dad puts him on the bike and rides back. That didn’t go well.
Back at the service station I surmise my son is not sleeping on the couch when he has those sleepovers with the girl who lives near the video store. My first thought is condoms. So I say, “I have plenty of condoms so if you need any just ask.” Then I panic, because I’m thinking he’s probably thinking; why has dad got condoms. So I rely on my years of experience and I come up with a plausible explanation.
“Me and a guy from work buy them in bulk because we run an import export business. Mainly import, you know we use a lot, that’s why I have them.”
My son has this confused look, very confused. He says, “Dad are you gay?” I replied, “No, no we import drugs, you know, import, we use a lot…”
That didn’t go well.
I should have just gone with the truth; that his mother and I dropped the pill, the angry pill as I call it and went old school. And you know, on the internet you always over-buy.
Keep calm, till next time. LF