If you know anything about crazy talented and brutally truthful blogger Nicole who goes under the name “Moms Who Drink And Swear” you know she doesn’t hold back. She speaks the honest truth and that’s why she’s a rockstar of blogging with more followers than many small countries. She recently did a whole blog on masturbation and a light bulb went off in my head. No not that light bulb and not that head. She was talking about how she and her son had one of those sex talks that every parent thinks about and dreads for years- when will the talk happen- what will I say when it does. And I suddenly realized. I NEVER had the talk. I NEVER had the talk. I’m not talking about my kids, they’re far too young and I’m far too scared. I mean I NEVER had “THE TALK” with my parents. My father died when I was fourteen. I didn’t even know about using a razor to shave.. never mind using a sock to.. (not explaining that any further). I NEVER had the talk. I guess I turned out OK. I have a wife. I have kids. We didn’t buy them from Costco so I can tell you they arrived the natural way. But I NEVER had the talk. I wonder what it would have been like if I ever DID have the talk. I’m sure it would have involved my dad, his white t-shirt, his red bandana, and a Kool cigarette hanging out of his mouth. I’m sure it would have ended like Clark Griswold in “Vacation” telling his son, “Good talk Russ”. I snuck sips of his Schlitz beer on occasion when I was a kid so I’m sure this would have been another coveted, yet awkward moment in my childhood. The lightbulb that went off, is maybe just maybe, that’s why I’m such a prude.
Consider that nothing- absolutely nothing- could prepare me for the first time the girls uttered that one six letter word… talking about the most private of places, in public. The first time the girls said the word “vagina” is the day my verbal dictionary went limp. I don’t know where it started. All I can tell you, is at some point it showed up: vagina was in the vernacular. And from then on, there was no stopping it. If there is one word that clearly defines the fatherhood experience of dads with daughters from that of other dads, it is the word vagina. Even though the girls now use the word, I have NEVER used it with them. I’ll still say “pee pee” or “down there” or “talk to your mom” but never the “v” word. I don’t even like to type it. I don’t want to know. I’ve had to sit there at times and endure vagina verbal abuse that no dad should. They don’t know why, but they know the word bothers me. I can’t hide it. So Alicia and Andreya will march around the house like it’s a Disney parade yelling “vagina, vagina, vagina.. Cha cha cha. Cha cha cha… Vagina, vagina, vagina.”. And recently they took the torture a step further with a Wilgoren daughters original. They made up the word “vagino-mite”- just like JJ in Good Times who said “dyno-mite”. It was another kaboom to my manhood.
And now I’m thinking that maybe, just maybe, all my angst is because I never had THE TALK. Up until now, I always thought any future conversation I have about the birds and the bees with the girls should be in terms that both the girls and I are comfortable with. The following is fictitious dialogue I am comfortable with: Girls, you know in My Little Pony on Valentine’s Day when they try to set up Apple Bloom’s older brother Big Macintosh with their teacher Cherilee? But she’s not interested so then Cherilee is given a magic potion and becomes totally transfixed and can’t stop thinking about Big Macintosh? That’s love. And remember when they both fall for each other, and run around like lovebirds and eventually land in a pit right onto a bouncy mattress-type thing just Cherilee and her schmoozy doo? That’s how people express love. And remember when the potion wears off leaving them both dazed and confused? That’s normal too. And that is the birds and the bees.
Now the Mom behind Moms Who Drink And Swear has me rethinking things. Maybe I need to actually prepare to have THE TALK one day. Maybe I need to man up.