Opposing the Opposite

Here it is October already and the shine is off the new school clothes and everybody's hunkered down in classes no doubt sexting nudie ex-girlfriend pictures off to the big old internet.

About the time I was of that age, back just before the Cretaceous era, I was sitting in a class on Moral Instruction (for it was thusly titled and I clearly picked up not a thing) when a schoolmate whispered that he had been playing down by the river and found...a condom!

"Heh heh heh." says I and dutifully that evening I snuck to the bookcase, drew out the dictionary and looked up what the hell a condom was.

Not that I was any measure of pure, just a little clueless. Concerning the opposite sex, that has followed me through life. On a spectrum of engagement there are on one end the red hot lovers and paramours, there's most of the rest of you, there's me and then, just off to my left there's probably the Pope.

So I got around to women carnally a little later in life. I did manage to very clearly avoid the pitfalls of teenage pregnancy which I've heard is closely tied to teenage fucking.

Parents have a problem with that. I can imagine why. Poor dad who has to look away when his daughter raises the back of her sweater to Mom to ask if there's an unsightly blemish (as I only have a stepdaughter, I generally drive to another county at moments such as these) now is expected to swallow whole some spotty faced underachiever wanting to get his little girl completely in the buff?

I'm thinking there's a series of challenges to that. Perhaps start with some questions on background, grades, ambitions and intent and then a modest physical display of commitment.

Shall we say, hole up in an airless box until you're 22?

But I've got the answer to young teen tomfoolery that can only lead to petting, groping, fucking and ultimately the sin of...dancing.

I say we marry them off.

Somewhere around twelve or thirteen when the first blush of "gosh he's cute" or "shucks, she's all soft and squeezy, not like you guys in football practice" we link them up, perform the rituals and get them good and married.

This way, the worry's off us, they get the full benefit of matrimony and everybody's set.

Until two years in, they divorce.

Then young he can come back home and brood in his room with sixty percent of everything he's ever had in life back in the little pink pony bedroom they used to share. Don't forget that most of his paper route tips have to auto deposit into her account. For fun, you can think about what you'd like to do but ultimately, since that bitch got the Schwinn and the X Box, I hope you like hanging on the phone with your guy friends reminiscing about when we could just pick up and have a one on one basketball game whenever we wanted.

Seventeen and divorced, he's not going to want to go talk to girls. Hey guys, how about we do some rock climbing, just us?

Sure, she'll have the bike and the video games but they're just daily reminders of the broken promise of love she'll carry for the rest of her life. He was charming, attentive, dapper but ultimately a cold self centered bastard who only wanted to come home to dinner every night and then climb into a bottle of chocolate milk. And they're all like that, just ask Tiffany down the street.

Friends will call suggesting a nice game of "playing house?" I've got a better idea; how about we start a food bank or a Sub S retailing art supplies on line like we always wanted to. Do you wanna read my play? Its almost finished.

Yep.

That'll cool 'em off.

Bunny on.