Sorry I've been away for a while.
Truth is, I'm sitting on gold. GOLD JERRY! In the time since my last post, I've gathered enough material for like . . . 50 great posts that I will bless you with in due time.
But it's probably best that I start with the one that happened today. I call it: "What Kind of Father Are You?"
Today, one of my co-workers was talking about her date for the weekend and the conversation soon moved to sex, or the lack thereof. Ultimately, the issue of gender politics became the main course and the big question was pitched to me: "how will you react when your daughters start having sex?"
Now, if you are a heathen like myself, there are a couple of tests to gauge your committment to non-committment. Death is one. Your daughter's virginity is the other.
I have two daughters, which means, in due time there will be two sets of boys coming through my doors looking to sleep with them. No, I don't love the idea but on the other hand, I don't want my girls to be 40-year old virgins either.
Actually, I don't want them to be 25-year old virgins.
Granted, I'd prefer they wait till they're out of my house, but "doing it" is one of life's greatest pleasures. There's taking a shit, taking a nap, love, eating and boning. My only request is that they hold onto their "precious flowers" till they leave my house, at least that way I won't have to SEE it. But I have no illusions of my daughters remaining chaste until marriage. Nor would I really want them to.
I have my reasons. Three actually.
1. They may never get married. As lovely as they are, the stats for Black women are dismal.
2. I actually WANT them to enjoy sex. I'm firmly convinced that anyone who remains a virgin past 25 is not really interested in sex. Imagine going half a century with a Cinnabon. Crazytown, right?
3. I'm not going to burden them with the idea that pre-marital sex is sinful.
When I explained my reasons, my co-worker (let's call her Michelle), asked:
"Well, what about your religious convictions?"
Now, the only reason I didn't laugh out loud is because I had not prepared to come out of the heathen closet at work. From what I can tell, Michelle was raised in a very religious home and I wasn't quite ready to go down that path with her.
So I waffled as best as I could:
"Those aren't really a problem for me." Better to appear as a lapsed Christian than not one at all, right?
"What do you mean?" She parried.
And then . . . I came out. Right there at work. In front of TWO of my co-workers.
"I wasn't raised with any religion so I never really get into the whole sin thing." It was out and no bells rang. No sirens. Just quiet acceptance and perhaps silent judging. But no one stopped me.
Michelle paused and looked up from her desk and said, "You're life must be so peaceful."
"You don't know what it's like to think that what you're doing is wrong and always being like 'please forgive me God.'"
I didn't say anything but I was thinking -- "No, I don't -- Thank God."