An old Overbrook buddy of mine sent me a friend request through Facebook last year and so we spent some time catching up on who’s done what over the last however long. “You’re still a musician? Good for you, man! That’s great”… “Wow, you’ve got two kids? No shit! What are their names?” And off we went in to Facebookreconnectland. The topics were many and the subjects started pouring out like chubby topless chicks during closing time at Mardi Gras --- “Atlanta” “Game Show” “Brothers Past” “Center Lanes” “American Babies” “Second Marriage” “Diamonds” “Touring” “Life” “Love” “Age” “Marriage” “Kids” “Beatrice” “Roman”…
And then, the following conversation ensued:
Tommy: “Roman? Man… that’s a great name. A strong name.”
Me: “Roman? YES! Roman. And that’s exactly what Todd said… he liked it because it was strong. Todd is 6’2”, and I’m 5’10”, so we knew this would be no small boy. And he wasn’t. 3 weeks early, he was 8 lbs, 6 oz. He would have been a ten pounder had he gone the distance. But the hair… oh, the hair. My girlfriend Debbie said ‘He looks nothing like a Roman. He looks like a Wally.’ That settled it, Roman it was and Roman it is. I love Josh Homme so I have this fantasy of Roman being this super tall, bad-ass redhead sex machine. Yes. I hope my son gets laid. A lot. I’m not freaked out at that. I hope he’s great looking and works it to his advantage. And that he finishes Harvard.”
Tommy: “I'm glad you want Roman to get laid, and I’m sure he'll be the second coming (no pun) of Wilt Chamberlain. Now do you feel the same about sweet little Bea??? Probably not, right?”
Me: “Uh, yeah. I want Bea to get laid… as an adult woman (not a young teenager) yes. Yes. There’s no double standard there. But I want her to get laid for sexual gratification and empowerment, and not for ‘boys to like her.’ I want her to be sexy and feel sexy. I want her to treat sex as something special, but also something mandatory. I don’t want her to marry the first guy she sleeps with. God knows I didn’t. I want her to be aware, and be protected, and be anything but naïve. Women require sex as much as men. We want it, need it, and deserve it. I hope men want her. I hope she experiences what it feels like to be wanted and I hope she does with that feeling whatever makes her happiest. If she’s 5’10” at 24 with a long auburn locks and C cups and she wants to tap the great looking quarterback of some NFL team because she can see in his eyes that he wants nothing more and she would get off on knowing that she’d leave a lasting impression on him that he’d think about often and take to his grave, then yeah, I am totally okay with that. Talk about your run on sentence!”
Tommy: “Ummmm… that explanation was ridiculous. (I mean that in the best possible way) And to be honest, that was the hottest run-on sentence I think I have ever read. ;)
You better make sure she never goes to an ‘American Babies’ concert once she hits 18.”
Todd: “If this fucking friend of yours thinks he’s going to fuck my daughter I’m going to kick his fucking ass. Seriously? Who is this asshole?”
Actually that last part never happened but I imagine it would if Todd ever knew about the conversation Tommy and I had which should happen……..riiiiiiight……….. abooooooouuuuuuut…………….now, since he just read this post.
My point to Tommy at the time (yes gang, there IS a point) was that I wasn’t going to wish for my children anything that I hadn’t wished for myself. I do want my kids – both my son and my daughter - to experience real, honest, GOOD sex when they are adults, and are responsible enough to do so. I will make it a point to teach Roman that a woman isn’t to be taken for granted and that she should be treated as the wonder she is both in the bedroom and out. Did I say wonder? I meant goddess. And Bea, well, I imagine that Bea will truly be a “little me” and while it might be hard for me to tell her to not do the things that I know I already did, I will instill in her, or at least try, a sense of responsibility so that she may hopefully take that with her and make the proper decisions as it pertains to her sexuality.
I never had sex drunk and I didn’t touch drugs so I never had sex high. Those were my own rules. I always made sure that no matter what age I was, I was sober when it came to the act, and the reason for that was so that I knew I could own whatever it was that I did. It’s the control freak in me. I don’t lay blame. I take responsibility and for the most part, that has opened other doors for me in my life. The first time I had ever been pregnant was when I was pregnant with Roman, and the second, was when I had been pregnant with Bea. Call it responsibility. Call it control. Call it luck or call it fate, but I was always protected and will talk to my kids about that when the time comes… down the road, of course.
I know it’s early to be thinking about this, but if the next ten years goes as quickly as these first ten have (I’ve lived in Atlanta for nine now) then no time is too soon to put air to my ideas on how I will hopefully handle the inevitable situation.
Roman... Beatrice... If you read this one day, whether mommy is here or not, this is what I have to say to you both: Enjoy your lives but remember that you are also responsible for the lives of others in some way, shape or form. The choices you make will determine how other people live, but your deciding factor should always be your very own happiness. Don’t settle, but don’t intentionally hurt. Don’t be irresponsible, but don’t neglect your bodies. Don’t ever do something that you don’t want to do, but don’t not do something if you think someone might judge you. You will always be judged, because that’s how people are, but no matter what happens… no matter what… your mother, I, will never, ever, judge you.
So, go… enjoy. Your whole lives are ahead of you. And there’s a whole world out there, and a lot of good sex to be had... after you're eighteen, of course.