You know when you’re innocently talking to a child and they open a whole new avenue from where you were planning on going with the conversation? I related it to America’s road system.

Sometimes it’s a simple cul-de-sac. The conversation goes round and round. Other times, it takes a “merging on to the highway” warp-speed jump from innocent to “hold me tightly, I need a moment.” This recent talk with one of my sons about where babies come from combines the two types of streets.

We were on a Georgia highway. My son was talking about some of his friends who were going to or had just returned from Walt Disney World. I reminded him he was there three years ago, but that carried very little street cred to a 5-year-old.

I tried steering the conversation another way.

“You know, Daddy used to work at Walt Disney World,” I said.

“Was Mommy a baby back then?”

For the record, I am older than my wife, but it is nowhere near that kind of age difference.

“No, that was before I met Mommy,” I said.

“Was I a baby then?”

“No …”

“Was Charlie a baby then?”

“No … he …”

“Daddy, where do babies come from,” said the 5-year-old who had just been talking about Mickey Mouse and Goofy.

“Well, when a mommy and daddy love each other very much they’ll have a baby. It’s important to have that because …,” I started to say before he cut me off.

“No, I mean how are they made?”

Is it time for the ‘birds and bees talk’ already?

Well, here is where our ever-expanding cul-de-sac of a conversation veered onto an on-ramp and started to rev up. My son is very detail-oriented, always wanting to know “why” and “how” things happen. I knew what he meant and thought for a moment about how to respond.

“It’s like chemistry,” I clumsily started. “Daddies have a special chemical that they combine with chemicals that mommies have — and that is what makes a baby.” As you can see, my initial foray into sex education went over swimmingly.

Right after I said that last word I knew it sounded odd and inauthentic. In my mind, I thought about telling him about how willies work with girls’ private parts, the pregnancy, doula, placenta, birth canal and epidural. But I was tired, driving and frustrated with myself for stumbling over the initial answer.

I need an off-ramp from this conversation and the closest thing was a golf range.

“Cool, check out that golf range,” I said.

“Daddy, we’ve seen that before. It’s right next to the video game place,” he said with all of the smarm and know-it-all-ness a 5-year-old could muster.

Then he went on to talk about something else.

That topic escapes me. I know that it wasn’t about reproduction. Since that trip, my wife and I have sorted out what he should call his private parts and we planned a basic overview of how to address the “where do babies come from” talk. I certainly didn’t expect to start this conversation when he was 5, though.

A friend of mine had their 6-year-old ask them what sodomy was. He was listening to the news and the child heard a new word he didn’t know. I guess my wife and I should prepare talking points for that possible query another time.

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A version of Where Babies Come From first appeared on Daddy Mojo and then on this blog in 2015. It has since been updated. Photo: ©New Africa / Adobe Stock.

This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

“It moved,” muttered George Costanza, the contemptible yet lovable Seinfeld character, in terror. He had been receiving a full-body massage from an objectively attractive male masseuse, and, well, “it” moved.

I suspect I don’t have to spell this one out. If you grew up with “it” between your legs, you know it has a mind of its own. It does what it wants when it wants and, for the most part, we are passengers on the “please no one notice” train.

The Seinfeld episode in question first aired in 1991. I would’ve been around 11 or so. This is a prime age for uncontrollable and inexplicable, ummmm, swellings. Around that time, I would’ve been begging dear sweet baby Jesus to protect me from the Devil’s hormones raging in my body. The all-too-tight khakis I had been forced to wear at church offered no protection. I was exposed. I could do my best Ron Burgundy “It’s the pleats” defense, but I had no pleats. Only a snug, flat fabric stretched across my crotch, waiting to advertise an untimely pitched tent.

Self-care or snake oil?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been awkward about being touched, and since this Seinfeld episode, I have genuinely had a fear of massages. I feel compelled to report it had nothing to do with men or my sexuality, but it heightened my fear of accidental bulges – regardless of who or what may have been the cause. Now you understand why “it moved” has been a terrifying mantra bouncing in my brain for 30-plus years.

And so, at the age of 44, I finally had my first massage.

I tend to reject what’s new and popular. The self-care industry has become so full of snake oil and nonsensical claims, I barely pay attention. There’s an infinite supply of influencers and hucksters eager to prey upon our desperate desire to feel better. Through smiling, beautiful faces, they claim to care about us, when it mostly seems they only care about separating us from our money. Sadly, the preponderance of profit-obsessed businesses and products has made it hard to find the real people, the genuine healers, who truly devote themselves to helping others. This cacophony of profiteering has made it hard for me to believe there’s any value in taking care of myself. I’m a stay-at-home dad. My full-time job is caring for three (sometimes four) kids. Taking care of myself is low on my list of priorities.

After my hour-long massage, I’m questioning the ranking of my priorities.

Feeling bad normally is not normal

Let’s address the first fear: Did it move?

Yep. Sure did.

A man didn’t give me my massage, but that was never my fear. I was worried about making things awkward and weird because I’m awkward and weird – which is exhausting, by the way. But, although blood was certainly flowing, and I did feel pretty dang good, nothing untoward happened. In the words of Costanza, “I think it moved. I don’t know. … It was imperceptible, but I felt it. … It wasn’t a shift. I’ve shifted. This was a move!”

My face was covered by a towel. In the background, there was meditative music. I was doing guided breathwork. Periodically a deep breath would be filled with some exotic aroma. All the hippy woo-woo shit the old me would mock.

The new me? I’m weary of being afraid of everything. I’m tired of being the frowning skeptic closed off from everything and everyone. “No one touch me. No one hug me. Respect my giant, ‘Merica-sized bubble, dammit!” I’ve always confused intimacy and sensuality with sexuality, and it’s a shame our society seeks to continue this confusion. Feeling good isn’t bad, but we’ve all felt so bad for so long that we’ve convinced ourselves it’s normal.

As fathers, how has all that impacted our children?

Massage your parenting message

I don’t know about you fellow dads, but I don’t want my kids to feel bad. Ever. About anything. OK, maybe sometimes, like when I recently found tiny particles of “window crayons,” all over the house, but in general, I want my kids to feel great. Great about themselves. About their bodies. About feeling great. Why would I want anything else?

How can I make them feel great if my body is falling apart? How can I create a happy home if I’m tense, grumpy and in pain from being tense and grumpy? I want to be a better human so I can be the best dad I can be. I’m no longer going to reject some of the tools in the cosmic toolbox. [*Giggles* — tool!]

I’m not saying we all need to put on our tinfoil hats and stop getting measles vaccines. We should absolutely trust doctors and experts when appropriate, but they don’t deserve our blind allegiance – no ideology does. There’s a whole world of possibilities, and the only way to know what works, sometimes, is to give it a try. Imagine our hypocrisy when we frustratingly stare at a plate full of uneaten food we encouraged our kids to try while knowing we’ve rejected alternate solutions to our own problems because we didn’t have the courage to try.

While on the massage table, I felt transported into another realm. My recently departed mother and brother were there. They were laughing at me. It was ludicrous some silly episode of a 30-year-old show had isolated me from my fellow humans. They told me the only person standing between me and everything I ever wanted was me, “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.” They were right. And I think I realized I’m also standing between my kids and everything they may want, and I desperately don’t want to be that guy.

Be better today than you were yesterday

Did I REALLY travel to alternate dimensions? I hope so, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is whether I’m willing to be better today than I was yesterday. While I can’t pretend I’ll always be willing to make my physical and mental health a priority, viewing self-care as a service to my wife and kids puts a whole new spin on it.

So get a massage.

Go for a run.

Lift some weights.

Sprinkle some rosewater on your pillowcase.

Mediate and get a little dizzy trying to figure out some complex breathing technique.

Go stretch in a hot room and try not to fart.

Give it a try. It just might work.

If it doesn’t work, that’s OK too. At least you tried, and it’s probably your kid’s fault, anyway. It’s always the kid’s fault.              

Author’s note: During the writing of this piece, “it” did NOT move.

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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

Massage photo by Pixabay via Pexels.

“What’s that?” asks my daughter, Libby.

It is a discarded dildo, laying on the dusty trail between the train station we just left and her elementary school.

In a flash, two tiny figures appear in mid-air. Over my right shoulder, a fella named Cool Hand Luke goes into high gear: “Don’t be so nervous. She’s old enough to know what’s going on. You better do it now or she’ll learn about it from TikTok and that weird friend of hers … the one who’s been in fifth grade a couple of times …”

“It looks like a branch. Where did it come from? Lemeee …,” Libby starts to reach for the abandoned sex toy.

“Don’t!” I grab my daughter’s arm.

“Why?” Libby, my relentlessly curious 10-year-old, asks. She wants answers. Now. Based on the way her eyes have narrowed into slits and are trained on me, our daily walk will go no further until I produce something sage.

The second member of my invisible entourage chimes in, one Ward Cleaver: “She is too young. I implore you: do not contaminate her mind with inappropriate images. It will play on her psyche. Tell her it is an old piece of rusted pipe.”

With Luke’s little arm wrapped around mine and Mr. Cleaver staring at me with naked disdain, I have a decision to make … and right quick.

“Ah. Well … sometimes … people …”

The words are like lead weights on my tongue. I try again:

“It’s like … when people play baseball … but not on a team … alone … in a batting cage …”

“Dad, are you sick? Your face is all sticky.” A blind man could have made Libby’s observation.

Truth and face the consequences, or …

Cool Hand Luke, swigging down his first beer of the day, sticks his face into mine. We are nose-to-nose: “What’s wrong with you, man? You want her to become a lonely, clingy cat lady? Tell her for crying out loud: you’ll both feel better. Then, we’ll all get a drink and celebrate!”

Mr. Cleaver, who had been scanning my psychological profile, snaps the folder shut, looks at me through rimless glasses, and says: “Do not repeat your father’s mistakes. Libby is entitled to have the childhood you never had. Children, whether they know it or not, need their parents to parent. Your father was … cool … and we both know how that turned out.”

When I was about my daughter’s age, I became hooked on “Choose Your Own Adventure” books, the ones where you got to decide what the hero of the story would do. It was great to be the star. If you chose right, you saved the kingdom and married the princess. But one false move and you were thrown into a dungeon on top of a tower for the rest of your life.

I took those books so seriously. I really thought they could transport me to times and places far away.

Now I’m right smack in the middle of a real-life fork in the road. What kind of woman will little Libby grow into? Depending on the answer I am about to give she will either become a kick-ass, amazon warrior who grabs the world by the tail or a sad recluse with nine cats and nothing but Netflix for company.

Pressure, anyone?

I take a deep breath, take my little girl’s hand in mine, and take the plunge: “OK, sweetheart. Here’s the thing. That thing is …”

“Libby!”

My daughter’s best friend is charging toward her from the end of the trail, right where it links with the crosswalk leading to their school. Libby bolts toward her. They nearly collide halfway between where I’m standing near the dildo and the end of the dirt path.

“What’s going on, Ellie?’”

“They’re gonna say who won. Come on!” Ellie grabs my daughter, and they head off. Today’s the big day. I completely forgot. The principal is about to announce to the entire school the winner of this year’s young architects contest.

Libby had spent hours making sure her Eiffel Tower mockup was perfect. As tired as I was some nights, commuting two hours each way every day, I would instantly snap to attention whenever she wanted to show me the work she had done that day on her masterpiece.

Waiting for me in our living room as I walked into the apartment, my mass of frustrations magically melted away. Libby needed her dad: enough said.

Heading back to the train station, I let out a laugh. I’m no architect: not even close. Chances are nothing I told Libby about her Eiffel Tower will affect the outcome of the contest.

The only thing that matters, the only thing that will decide what kind of woman my daughter grows into, is my giving a damn about her.

Kids are not messed up by bad advice, only bad parents – the kind that can’t be bothered.

Even though the train I embark on for the long ride to work is packed, all is quiet. Cool Hand Luke and Ward Cleaver have clocked out for the day, and my mind is clear.

No doubt they’ll be back the next time I have a Choose Your Own Adventure moment with Libby. Just like those books from long ago, Cool Hand Luke and Ward Cleaver mean well … but should be taken with a grain of salt.

About the author

Gidon Ben-Zvi is an accomplished writer who left behind Hollywood starlight for Jerusalem, where he and his wife are raising their four children to speak fluent English – with an Israeli accent. Ben-Zvi’s work has appeared in The Jerusalem Post, Times of Israel, Algemeiner, American Thinker and Jewish Journal.

Choose your own adventure photo: © Sondem / Adobe Stock.

While it is easy to be romantic on Valentine’s Day, it can be more challenging for moms and dads to stay intimate the other 360-something days of the year.

Face it, most of us became parents by enjoying the process of making babies, right? Now that the fun part is well behind us and we are left diapering, educating, shuttling and financing the results of that hard work (snicker), it’s sometimes difficult to find that loving feeling again.

So here’s four ways to stay intimate with your partner after all the chocolates in that heart-shaped box are gone today:

Start with having ‘The Talk‘

No, not that one with the kids. The one with your partner.

If sex is important to you in your relationship, then tell your partner. Find out where they stand on the subject. Learn what turns your partner on and, in return, they should know what turns you on. Discuss the obstacles — work, stress, exhaustion from kid care, a changing libido — that may be preventing each of you from finding the loving feeling more often. Understanding and respecting the needs, wants and desires of your partner is how everything should start and continue long after.

Keep romance alive with flirting

Once you have a better idea of what works and what doesn’t work you can start making things happen. A little flirting with your partner lets them know you are interested. Send them a text message, write a note on the bathroom mirror, or give the gentle touch on the arm or neck as you walk by – much easier in these days of working from home. It will make them feel wanted. It will remind them of how attracted they were to you early in your relationship, you know — before kid.

Find the time and schedule it

We’re all busy these days. Between work, shuttling the kids to their activities, and the few social things we still have going on, spontaneity is not as easy as it was when we were younger and had far fewer commitments. If you truly want to stay intimate with your partner, look at your schedules and block some time out just for the two of you. Then set yourself up for success. Remove all those obstacles to intimacy that you two have talked about — the kids’ presence, obviously; household tasks; your various screens, etc. This way, when the time comes you can give your partner all your focus.

Stay intimate without sex

When we start dating, intimacy was not sex. It was holding hands, cuddling, hugging, kissing, maybe giving your partner a foot rub or shoulder massage. While you may not always have the opportunity, let alone the time, for sex, you can work many of these other intimate times into your schedule, such as when you are sitting on the couch watching TV … even when the kids are present. Taking advantage of these opportunities helps prime the pump for more intimate adventures you might get caught up in later.

Stay intimate photo: ©Jirus / Adobe Stock.

It’s critical for dads to have the sex talk with their children early and to get it right. It’s not OK to leave the big talk to Mom or to assume the teachers at school will take care of it. Think about it this way: the teenage brain is hard-wired to care about sex, so when you talk about it your teen will listen closely to anything you say. Don’t miss that opportunity!

I’ve noticed a few things dads get wrong when they try to have a sex talk with their teenagers. Are you making any of these common mistakes?

1. Avoiding Your Own Sex Life

It can be awkward to talk to your teenager about your own sexual history. Dads often avoid discussing their personal lives when they are having the sex talk. However, vulnerability is actually a good thing. When you share something personal it will show your teen it’s safe to open up, too. Plus, “The Talk” is better understood when you have personal advice to touch on. Don’t be afraid to discuss your first time or instances when sex wasn’t the best idea. This can be useful and highly memorable advice.

2. Skipping the Practice Run

When talking about sex, you have to be clear and specific so the lesson will stick. Nervous fathers are often too vague when addressing topics like anatomy and STDs because they don’t like going into these details with their children. This is a form of stage fright, and the best way to shake stage fright is to practice. Become very familiar and confident with awkward words and concepts. Practice saying the most awkward things over and over 100 times each before you sit down with your teen.

3. Treating it Like a One-Time Event

Chats about reproduction and sexuality should be ongoing, starting from a young age. When a father breaches the subject for the first time, he should let his child know that the door is always open. As your teen encounters new questions or ideas around sex, you want to be there to continue the conversation. Studies show that teenagers often make bad decisions when they don’t get help from a trusted adult. Checking in regularly and demystifying the taboo around sex will teach your teen that it’s OK to come to you for advice.

4. Making the Sex Talk a Surprise

Don’t spring “The Talk” on your teen. Make sure to set the tone by warning your teen about the topic before you sit down for the conversation. Without a heads-up, your teen can feel trapped or blindsided by a sudden exchange about a very personal subject. To give your teen time to prepare, try saying something like, “I’d like to talk about puberty and sex. It won’t take any longer than 30 minutes. Would you rather do it at 6 or 8?” Offering a small choice is good so your teen doesn’t feel powerless.

5. Taking Yourself Too Seriously

Yes, this talk will be awkward for both of you. But don’t deliver a stern or boring lecture. If you do, your teen will block out everything you say and disengage from the conversation. On the other hand, a little bit of lightness goes a long way. Be upbeat, make the talk pleasant, and adopt an easygoing manner so your teen knows that talking about sex is nothing they have to worry about. It’s OK to laugh at yourself and at the awkwardness of it all!

6. Waiting Too Long to Give “The Talk”

The earlier, the better. Dads today need to compete with social media, school gossip and the natural sexual urges that arise in a teenager. Messages from peers are already shaping your teen’s opinions about sex, whether you like it or not. Get ahead of the curve and be proactive by talking to your children about sex early and often. If you’re wondering whether or not it’s too early to start having sex talks, then it’s time already. Start today!

Final Thoughts

The most important thing you can do as a parent is just to talk often about sex. You’re not going to get “everything” right, but don’t worry about that. On the other hand, you’ll never get anything right if you don’t try at all.

Yes, it’s going to be awkward. Yes, your teen is going to resist. Yes, you’ll want to stop. And yes, you still have to do it. It’s that important.

Good luck!

About the author

Andy Earle is a researcher who studies parent-teen communication and adolescent risk behaviors. He is the co-founder of talkingtoteens.com and host of the Talking to Teens podcast, a free weekly talk show for parents of teenagers.

The sex talk photo: ©New Africa / Adobe Stock.

The stories are everywhere — women (and a few men) speaking their truth to abusive male power as the #MeToo movement rolls on. As the parent of two teen daughters, I am glad much light and sound are finally being shed on this topic. But it remains challenging to talk about at home in ways that balance how to promote healthy romantic relationships and avoid toxic ones. The one word I keep coming back to? Boundaries.

As my wife and I discuss with our daughters the ongoing media stories about sexual misconduct, we try to focus on the need for self-boundaries — e.g., physical, emotional and moral. This starts at a young age when all parents teach their children about “private” body boundaries that no one should violate. But as children become tweens and teens, teaching them how to establish and maintain healthy but invisible boundaries can be more challenging. For example, girls are often socialized to be people-pleasers, so even the strength to say “maybe” or “no” instead of “yes” to various social requests needs to be nurtured.

The issue of consent is especially tricky for girls when it comes to romantic relationships. Popular culture romanticizes a borderless self. All those “I’m Nothing Without You” songs make me wretch because they foster dangerous self-talk, particularly for girls. No one’s self-worth should depend on another person. Much to my daughters’ chagrin, when we hear pop love songs together I often voice semi-humorous objections. In a recent example, Ellie Goulding’s “Love Me Like You Do” asked “What are you waiting for?” I hollered: “Consent! He should be waiting for clear consent.” Cue my daughters’ eyerolls, but at least they’ll remember the advice.

As a former English professor, I once gave similar advice about consent by revising a phrase from Robert Frost’s poem titled “Mending Wall,” in which the speaker says, “Good fences make good neighbors.” My version was “Good fences make good selves,” but I’m not sure it registered as well with my daughters.

Whatever ways you can foster your teens’ healthy boundaries and self-talk, I encourage you to do so. Girls, for example, should beware of being put on a pedestal in public but belittled in private. Any disrespect or boundary violation by a mate is an early sign of an unhealthy relationship. The rise of social media has further complicated teens’ ability to maintain a sense of privacy. But they should be reminded that “only fools rush in” to any new romance (or app), and it is fine to “undershare” in the early stages of a relationship, despite what their peers or suitors may say.

Start talk about boundaries early

In lighter moments, I reflect on the first time I discussed dating and romance with my daughters. When my oldest daughter Lauren turned 9, she asked me what an actual “date” means. We were in the car, so I glanced at her in the rearview mirror and reviewed what dating means (and the fact that it was for kids much older than herself). Then I explained that parents are usually OK with their teenagers dating, but they would like their children to get to know themselves before getting serious with someone.

She replied, “What do you mean? I know who I am. I’m Lauren.”

I tried a different tack.

I asked her, “What do you not like to do?” She thought for a moment and said to my surprise, “Play tennis.” I followed by explaining that if that’s true but Johnny Wonderful insists that she love to play tennis or he’ll break up with her, she should stay true to herself and demand respect. She could try to work things out but should never sacrifice her sense of self.

After a moment, she said with a smile, “Dad, you probably thought I’d be older when I asked you these questions, didn’t you? Usually adult stories are boring, but not these ones.” If only such stories could stay boring into her mid-20s.

Men — especially dads — have to change what we frown upon. We have to accept that sexual misconduct hurts us all, much like secondhand smoke affects the air we all breathe.

It has been said that when women discuss a problem with men, they are often looking for emotional support, not help with a solution. But when it comes to the sexual misconduct issue ricocheting through our culture, that notion is mistaken. Women are doing their share to fix the issue by courageously raising more awareness, reporting more abuses, and demanding more consequences. It is time for more men to join the fight and actively help shift the culture’s attitudes about sexual harassment.

Fathers of both daughters and sons are key to this revolution in awareness since the problem is pervasive and intergenerational. Even if I didn’t have two teen daughters close to entering the adult world (and probably male-dominated professions), I would find the recent news cycle alarming. We obviously need a sea change of understanding when it comes to sexual misconduct. In our homes, we can start by making extra efforts with our sons and daughters to discuss personal boundaries, consent, responsibility, and the differences between acceptable courtship and sexual harassment. We can also model healthy relationships with the women in our lives — both privately and publicly.

Given the breathless pace of new allegations, the sexual misconduct issue could almost be called a public health emergency. Such a crisis calls for society-wide change through a combination of awareness-raising, law creation and enforcement, and most importantly, a shift in our moral thinking. The analogies are flawed, but in my desperation I think back to the times when smoking was cool and seat belt use was frowned upon. Thanks to decades of social change, those ideas are no longer part of most people’s consciousness.

We need similar but even more soul-shaking, cross-generational work to gradually shift the norms of our thinking when it comes to sexual misconduct. Men — especially dads — have to change what we frown upon. We need to police each other, even when that becomes uncomfortable. We have to keep talking and not let the issue fade into a different media cycle. We have to accept that sexual misconduct hurts us all, much like secondhand smoke affects the air we all breathe.

Share the burden of fixing ‘toxic masculinity’

We also have to admit it’s not fair to sit back and listen to women’s accounts of sexual misconduct without helping fix the problem now and in the future. Although many men are not guilty of “toxic masculinity,” it is not fair to place all the burden for fixing it on superheroic femininity.

Avoiding harassment should not be considered only a “female” issue. Girls and women should not be blamed if they do not wear the right clothes, say the right things, report the right offenses promptly and with detailed supporting evidence, etc. While false accusations and due process are components of this issue, the burden of avoiding harassment should be shared by boys and men.

Granted, some generations of men grew up with different norms that are now problematic. Whatever our past, however, we need to be part of the solution. Fortunately, many men and boys are already practicing a much healthier masculinity, but we need to keep the pressure on each other. Keep talking to your children, especially your sons; I’ll keep talking to my daughters. Let’s be the last generation that hears (or tells) the joke about a dad needing a bat to protect his daughters once they become teenagers. Let’s make the bat unnecessary. Better yet, let’s make it unthinkable.

There’s no evidence of my mom or dad ever sitting me down for “the talk.”

Any knowledge of female anatomy I gained during my formative years was acquired from unseemly sources: a flickering screen in the dark of night in the basement, glossy rags stashed beneath off-season clothing, and crude classmates in the hallways of my private, all-boys high school.

If you were to develop a sex ed plan, mine would be close to the opposite of ideal.

My lack of understanding about girls, and about my own body too, was painfully obvious during my high school years … and in the years that followed. Frankly, and this is only partially a joke, I’m still not 100 percent sure I understand how everything works down, and inside of, there, there and there.

Despite a less than perfect childhood human biology lesson plan and sex talk curriculum, I was determined to approach my life as a dad of two daughters without even the slightest tinge of discomfort, fear or awkwardness about the subject matter. This determination was fueled in large part to the societal bent toward freaking the F out over:

1. having daughters grow up in general, and
2. young girls exploring their own sexuality.

Pardon my pun, but screw all of that.

Instead, I would, in partnership with my wife, work to normalize — not demonize — sex, the human body, gender identity and intimate relationships. For the most part, I’ve done exactly that, even though I unfortunately wasn’t a part of the initial sex talk with my oldest child.

Thankfully, there isn’t a singular “talk” but rather a series of open-ended, fluid conversations about sex and sexuality had over many years. I missed the first one (I was away and it came up suddenly back at home), but I’ll never again NOT be there if my daughters need me to listen, advise, or simply hold them tight.

First and foremost, they know — and I continue to remind them — that I’m always available and that no subject is off-limits, awkward or taboo. I will not recoil, cover my ears or run away from their curiosity, questions or real-life experiences. Doing so will not serve them well nor will it help me in the long term.

Additionally, my girls will know that they have a right to expect sexual reciprocation, and that sex should be pleasurable. I’ll encourage them to be safe but let them know it is OK, necessary even, to explore what feels right and good and fun for them and their partner(s).

(Because I didn’t understand the human body and because my first girlfriend probably wasn’t given a gender-balanced “talk” either, I don’t think I ever once pleased her, at least not to climax. In fact, I’m certain I did not. And she never told me that I should be taking care of her. G-Spot? Clitoris? I had no idea.)

Of course, I’m in no rush for my daughters to become sexually active. But burying my head in the cushions of our couch is not going to stop them from falling in love and acting on the emotions that will someday be stirred inside them both. The same is true in reverse: having an open dialogue about sex, love, relationships, and the symmetry of those things, will not push them to become sexually active ahead of schedule.

Luckily, there are resources like AMAZE, a collaboration between national sex education experts Advocates for Youth, Answer and Youth Tech Health, that helps kids and adults get less weird, and more educated, about sex and sexuality through fun, approachable videos.

I wasn’t a perfect lover and I’m not a perfect dad, but I know now that it’s not all about me. I know that “the talk” evolves over time, never truly stops, and that I always want to be a part of it — for my own good and for my daughters’.

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My 15-year-old daughter had her first experience with a new species over the weekend: The North American Drunken Asshole.

I wasn’t present for the encounter, which was probably a good thing. My girl was visiting her mom in San Diego for the weekend, a couple hours south. Here’s the situation:

They were out for an evening stroll in a funky-but-fun beach neighborhood, a place they’ve been many times. They’d just emerged from a restaurant, and were just enjoying the fresh, salt-tinged evening air. As they walked down the block, they passed a group of young guys. I’m told they looked like they were in their early 20s: sorta gangly, backwards baseball caps, slouchy, scruffy. Plus drunk.

After Riley and her mom had passed the group, one of the guys called out to my daughter. It started out as simply, “Hey!,” which my daughter ignored. She actually had no idea the dude was even talking to her.

But after the third semi-slurry “Hey!,” it became clear she was the one in the guy’s scope.

What he said next wasn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been. I’ll give him that.

Catcalls from the beast

The dude shouted at my daughter, yelling, “Oh, fuck. You’ve got a total hot Hermione thing going on, and I FUCKING LOVE IT!”

All things considered, I know Harry Potter-centric catcalls are pretty tame, compared to the sorts of things jerks normally say when they yell at girls. It was aggressive, yet vaguely nerdy. A fine line. But it really freaked my daughter out.

Riley is 15. She’s a beautiful young woman. And more than a few people have told her that she bears a striking resemblance to Harry Potter‘s Emma Watson, who is herself an intelligent, beautiful, and classy human. In some other context, it would be a compliment.

But in this situation, it was unwanted, unsolicited attention that scared my girl. A random, loud, drunk dude noticed her, and felt it was totally appropriate to yell at her. And she didn’t know what to do.

Maybe Drunk Doofus thought he was simply offering her a compliment, nothing more. Maybe it didn’t occur to him that he might’ve freaked her out. It’s possible he thought she was older than 15. Not that any of that makes catcalls OK.

Or maybe he was one of those assholes who likes to make women feel uncomfortable and intimidated.

The meltdown

After they got home, Riley had a minor meltdown about the whole experience. This was the first time she’d experienced this sort of adult male behavior. What made things worse is that she’d dressed up for their evening out, putting on makeup (which she rarely uses) and nicer clothing that her usual T-shirt and jeans. She was feeling confident, attractive and grown up. Then this guy came along and made her feel self-conscious, embarrassed and vulnerable.

She and her mom had a long talk about it. I don’t know the details, but Riley felt better afterward. I heard about it from her mom over the phone, and then I got the full version when Riley came back home after the weekend. As I listened to the story, I tried to avoid wigging out myself. I DO NOT LIKE the idea of some random drunk doofus yelling at my daughter and making her feel afraid. I DO NOT LIKE the idea of any man doing that to any woman and making her feel that way. (I don’t like the idea of any human making any other human feel uncomfortable in such fashion, frankly — but we can probably all agree that when we do see it happening, it’s most common for the remark to go from a man to a woman. So I’m currently focused on that.)

The breakdown

As Riley told me the story, some of the rapid-fire observations she made about it were:

1. I’m never going to dress nicely in public again.
2. That guy wouldn’t have said anything if I’d been with you, Dad, instead of Mom. That’s lame in itself.
3. I know he was acting that way because he was drunk. But that just makes it scarier.
4. Guys are pretty much jerks when they drink. And also sometimes when they’re not.
5. I’m not going to be grateful that the guy didn’t say something dirty or nasty. It was still not cool.
6. OK, maybe I won’t let that stop me from dressing up again in public. But I don’t know what to do if it happens again.

I did my best to break it down with her, point by point:

1. My girl, you have the right to dress any way you want. I know it’s hard to embrace such a concept after an encounter like this, but remember that no one else should ever have a say in what you do or wear to feel confident, strong or capable.

2. Yes, it’s grossly unfair, but you’re probably right. If you’d been with me, the dude may not have felt as comfortable lobbing out his comment. Young guys get a lot less ballsy when there’s an older male around who resembles their dad. Much less the courage to say and do dumb shit, even drunk. This is why I would prefer to be your bodyguard everywhere you go for the rest of life. But sadly for us both, that’s not how things work.

3. Sounds like he was drunk indeed. Or on the way to drunk. As you get older, you’re going to see more people, male and female, exhibiting silly, obnoxious, abrasive behavior thanks to the wonders of alcohol. What a great way to learn the value of moderation when it comes to our own substance intake.

4.  Yes. Guys can be jerks when they drink. I have to point out that girls can, too. I know you know that. When people are drunk, their filters go on the fritz. That internal barometer that dings right before they do or say something stupid usually malfunctions. But I agree that this is worse. It’s worse because drunk guys in particular can be especially scary. Let’s agree to steer clear of those guys.

5. I completely agree. Just because the guy didn’t make a nasty, anatomically focused remark doesn’t change the fact he made you feel intimidated. And you shouldn’t simply sit back and “take it as a compliment,” just because what he said wasn’t gross. If he’d wanted to actually present you with a respectful compliment about being an attractive human, he would’ve done so differently. That wasn’t his goal. His goal was to own a moment with bravado, to prove that he gets to yell shit at anyone, whenever he feels like it, because that oh-so-important Y chromosome gives him the right to do so. Which is utter crap, of course. It is not OK for men to do that to women.

6. As for what to do if it happens again? Hmm. My girl, I hate to say this, but odds are good that it’s probably going to happen again, sometime, somewhere. If you ask any woman, you’ll learn that she’s probably also had this experience, to some degree or another. She will understand what it means to feel uncomfortable, exposed, unfairly targeted.

Catcalls in the future

Sweetheart, I know what I want to say. I want to say that if someone drunk guy catcalls you again as you walk by, you should turn around, walk right up to him, look him in the eye and tell him to shut the fuck up. See, many guys are all kinds of courageous when they’re not being confronted. And they usually don’t expect a woman to go eye to eye with them and call them on shit like that. They like it better when they see they’ve intimidated her. So a big part of me wants you to be the crusader who goes up to that guy and tells him to knock it the hell off.

And part of me is afraid that if you provoke a guy who’s being fueled by drunk bravado, it’ll result in a much more nightmarish scene that scares me too much to think about. That’s the part of me that wants to go with you to college and live next door to you until you graduate.

In the end, I didn’t have a lot of awesome advice for her about catcalls, other than to hold her head up high, be confident, and have enough strength to ignore the drunk doofuses of the world who get off on intimidating women. I told her she’s strong, she’s cool, and she deserves to be respected. I told that it’s a fight worth fighting, and I’ll have her back all the way.

I hope that’ll be enough.

1. Hugs with the Wife

This isn’t so bad. But it always involves your kid sprinting toward you at full speed, which almost always involves a head slamming into your crotch.

2. Your Plans

Having kids both robs your life of spontaneity and makes planning things impossible. Because kids don’t do anything with forethought; they are spontaneity made flesh. Sometimes that involves spontaneous tantrums, sometimes it involves spontaneous vomit. Hopefully it involves spontaneous laughter. It definitely involves spontaneous headaches.

3. Dinner

I’m not sure if I can call this an interruption when my son mostly just makes it last forever.

4. Your Favorite TV Shows

This is particularly galling, since any time I make a peep during “Scooby Doo” my son yells that he can’t hear it. Hey kid, I can tell you the plot of every single episode right now: Shaggy’s stoned, Velma loses her glasses, someone’s pretending to be a monster. Repeat.

5. Sex

I think he hates us.

6. Your Peace and Quiet

Whoever called it “the pitter-patter of little feet” was a lying bastard.

7. Sleep

I know he hates us.

8. Your Flight

Aww, he hates you too! Believe me, I want him to shut up as much as you do. But it’s his flight, too.

9. Conversations

Typically by screaming, “What? What did you say? What are you saying?” the entire time his mom and I attempt to conduct one. If I’m being generous, I refer to this as curiosity.

10. Your Happiness

Or what you used to think it was. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

The most annoying part? Even with these constant interruptions, my son will never interrupt the stuff I could actually use a break from. Like work. Or awkward cold calls I accidentally answer. Or when my wife puts on show tunes. Well, he does interrupt those, if dancing and singing along with them counts.

I know. It doesn’t.

A version of this first appeared on Dad and Buried.