For instance, before I finally experienced the pre-teen growth spurt, I was one of the smallest kids in grade school.
Being a smaller kid, my classmates treated me accordingly... they selected me last in gym class, they routinely made derogatory sexual remarks about my mother, they creamed me in the head with objects such as dodge balls, baseballs, cafeteria trays, textbooks, lunch-boxes, etc.
They also stole my milk money, shot me with pellet guns, threw blazing hot marshmallows at me during summer camp, pushed me INTO the campfire and shot me again with pellet guns as I tucked and rolled in order to extinguish my burning clothes…typical kid stuff.
Those remain some of my fondest memories to this day and, I believe, made me the normal adult that I am today.
I held little interest in academics until much later than many of my classmates. That is, until my mother and father employed effective guidance and incentive methods which nurtured and encouraged me to excel so that I might make the most of my academic experience.
They shipped me away to Miss Doris' Child Education Enrichment Home for the summer. Miss Doris was a good teacher and often beat me repeatedly with sticks if I missed any questions on my multiplication tables.
Of course, she wrapped the sticks in heavy cloth so as not to leave noticeable marks-- thus avoiding suspicion from the neighbors, Child Protective Services and school officials.
I must admit, this program worked better than Hooked On Phonics. ®
I’m kidding, of course; she didn’t cover the sticks with cloth at all.
Another area in my fallow little coming of age garden of weeds was in the dating department. As was the case with a few of my friends, I never really dated much until just after graduating from high school.
I had sex far earlier than my friend Kenny Melvin. Kenny was an honor student and a serious Dungeons & Dragons player, which largely explains why he often got his head dunked in the boy's room toilet. Of course, he also owns about a billion shares in Microsoft.
I'd say he got the last laugh.
I often longingly think back to my first sexual experience. It was the evening of Mike McClain’s 18th birthday party. For the record, my experience was NOT with Mike; it was with a woman named Angel Hendricks.
I remember it being a tender, deep and loving moment in time under the romantic canvas of a partially cloudy evening in the silvery glow of a breezy springtime moon; an intense moment which is shared between a boy and a girl who’ve just met for the first time.
As many romantic evenings from my adolescence began, Angel and I consumed large quantities of grape Kool-Aid which was infused with pure grain alcohol. We scooped cup after cup from a giant 30-gallon Rubbermaid trash barrel until Angel violently puked her guts up.
I lovingly held her hair away from the projectile vomit which twinkled in the light of the luminous midnight sky, as barely recognizable fragments of the Taco Bell Burrito Supreme trickled down the side of the neighbor‘s Dodge Caravan.
It was at that moment when I knew that Angel and I were meant to be together.
Yes indeed! Tonight would be the night when a boy became a man! It was like the Lion King…only less commercialized and not appropriate for Burger King Kid's Meal action figures.
My first sexual experience was nothing short of…well it WAS, in fact, short now that I think about it. As I recall, I lasted just past the second verse of Chicago‘s “When You Love Somebody.“**
**Note: “Short” is in reference to chronology…NOT my equipment.
As a background note, Angel was Mike McClain’s 40-year old step mother-- but that’s a story best suited for another writing.
I came of age when it was deemed taboo to receive “the talk” from an adult figure. The very thought of human sexuality chit-chat between adult and child was an uncomfortable venture for parental figures, except for my friend, Darrin.
Darrin’s Uncle Larry and Aunt Helen never missed an opportunity to explain the “birds and the bees” to he and the other neighborhood children.
They did so in great detail as I recall and, on numerous occasions, they even invited several other kids and adults for sleepovers at their house.
This exercise came complete with live demonstrations and they even allowed us to view late night Cinemax movies!
Darrin’s Aunt Helen and Uncle Lawrence eventually drew interest from local authorities as to their sex-ed techniques before suddenly disappearing into the back of a police van one day. The cops even took their video equipment!
Someone recently informed me that Darrin was in therapy until age 30 for some reason.
You can imagine my surprise when my friend, Michelle, asked if I would sit down and have “the talk” with her 12-year old son, Jack. My own parents never had that chat with me! Where is Angel, Ron Jeremy, Aunt Helen and Uncle Lawrence when I need them???
One would think that, after my last interaction with Jack in assisting with his homework assignments, Michelle would have learned her lesson.
I learned about sex as many other guys did; via the time honored system of “trial and error.” As a young man, the women in my life were quite helpful in guiding me through this exercise by means of helpful and guiding instructions. Such as:
Nope…it’s not there
Can we shoot for 3-minutes this time?
Uh, it’s not there either
2-minutes and 45 seconds is progress sweetie…you’ll do better next time
Why do you have a Chicago cassette tape???
WAIT! Not there!! NO not there!!! Higher!! (gasp) DEAR GOD! That hurts!!!
I tactfully explained to Michelle that I was in the middle of an important project which strictly prohibited me from talking with children.
She didn’t seem to buy-in to that story.
Michelle is a nurse and possesses numerous medical and human physiology reference books so I figured that this might provide guidance which would help to better explain “things” to young Jack, in clinical fashion.
As I thumbed through one of the reference books, I did what any guy would do…I immediately turned to the section containing explicit photos of female genitalia and boobies...uh, I mean, breasts.
Unfortunately, as these things go, explicit pictures of human genitalia in medical reference guides are usually those of a severe medical nature. (i.e genitalia which have been run over by a dump truck or accidentally shredded in a freak food processor accident)
Finally, I owned the duty and responsibility as a man should; I decided that I must find a stand-in to do the job for me.
My friend Ed!!! He’s savvy with kids. He’s a father and he’s a pretty hip guy. Ed would be the PERFECT candidate.
I joined Edward for a beer and informed him of my dilemma.
Ed’s first sexual experience was nothing short of brilliant. His was the sort of encounter of which romance novels are made.
As Ed was (prematurely) finishing his business, he and his young lady friend were busted by the police in his truck behind the Burlington Coat Factory-- both were naked and in possession of a partially consumed 12-pack of beer and two McDonald‘s Extra Value Meals.
If I were Ed, I would have married this woman. Nonetheless, I suspected that Ed might not be the right person to educate young Jack…at least by Michelle’s stringent standards.
After hours of racking my brain, it finally hit me! The perfect candidate to assist in explanation of human sexuality to Jack was hiding in plain sight. My friend Todd!
Todd is a professional writer of epic historical and political thrillers…plus he’s had short stories published in the Penthouse Forum, which makes him my hero.
Todd has also had sex with approximately 5-thousand women, which makes him an expert on the topic.
Aside from the fact that he currently engages in sexual activity with his wife, Melissa (who hates me) I felt comfortable in enlisting Todd’s expertise in educating Jack.
I met up with Todd to explain the situation and we decided to employ the tag-team buddy system in sitting down with Jack:
Todd: Hey Jackson…how ya’ doin' buddy?
Jack: (intently focused on his Halo video game) I’m good.
Me: You mean that you’re WELL.
Todd: Don’t be a word-snob douche bag
Jack: What's a douche bag??
Me: A nickname for my editor...Listen, Jack, this is my buddy Todd and he has something to chat with you about. I’ve gotta leave for a day or so but I'll see you soon.
Todd: (Forcefully grabs my shirt, dragging me back into the room, causing me to spill my cocktail.)
Jack: Are you guys drunk?
Me: What’s that got to do with anything???
Todd: Um, Jack…what Jim is saying is that your mother thought that it might be a good idea for he and I to sit down to answer any questions that you might have about girls, romance, gentlemanly manners, dating, vaginas, G-spots, English League soccer and other manly stuff like that.
Me: You forgot backdoor sex
Todd: (Shooting me an evil glare)
Jack: What’s a G-spot?
Me: It’s like hitting all deuces on the video poker machine; it's elusive but it pays off BIG when you find it...sort of like the premise for all of the Indiana Jones movies.
Jack: Cool...are there snakes???
Me: So to speak.
At this point Todd punched me in the arm, causing me to spill the remainder of my cocktail.
It's important to know that Todd is the father of two young children...one of which is a beautiful little girl. He's convinced that any man who enters her life will be nothing short of Charles Manson...at least in his mind.
Todd: Um, what Jim is trying to say is...well, sometimes boys and girls develop feelings for one another and the emotions that they feel might cause them to take things to more of a physical nature.
Jack: Like riding bikes together or tubing on the river??
Me: Helmets and rubber objects are, indeed, part of it.
Todd: (Throwing a couch cushion at me) Uh, yeah, spending time together doing fun stuff is a part of it. But, sometimes it gets a little more physically closer.
Jack: You mean sex!
I would give everything I own to have a picture of the expression on Todd's face. I almost peed my pants at this point.
Todd: No! NO! That's not what I mean at all! As a matter of fact, boys and girls shouldn't have sex until they're in a long-term relationship.
Jack: How does a guy know when it's a long-term relationship??
Me: When the man finally realizes that he has no more game and reluctantly gives up-- accepting defeat.
He then settles down with a woman who seems lovely during the period of blinding romantic bliss, only she devolves into someone who incessantly picks apart his every shortcoming, guilting him into purchasing lots of expensive clothes for her from chic boutiques.
He does so in order to gain some peace and quiet so that he might sit on the couch and watch a football game for once without being on the receiving end of an onslaught of stupid questions which come out of her mouth with the heart-stopping equivalent of fingernails scraping across a blackboard.
He'll regularly be forced to forego attendance at sporting events with his buddies in order to tag along to a wine and cheese tasting social at an art gallery as a harsh reality sets in that he's slowly sinking up to his eyeball sockets in debt from a mortgage which is far above his means.
He eventually begins to spend many hours at the end of a dark, lonely pub, wondering where and when it all went wrong for him in life, tossing around the pros and cons of divorce.
The primary problem being that his lady paid for a large portion of his student loans until she became pregnant, so he realizes that this will not look favorable to a man-hating jurist in family court. Actually, Todd, perhaps you can offer better hands-on expertise here.
Todd: (Shooting me another evil glare)
Jack: I see men and women having sex right away on TV. Why do I have to wait??
Todd: Because God sends young men to Hell if they have sex with a vulnerable, innocent, beautiful young girl. You don't want to spend an eternity in a tortuous burning lake of fire do you?
Me: (Grabbing Todd's arm) Uh, Jack, will you excuse Todd and I for a second?
I quickly ushered Todd to the kitchen.
Me: Have you lost your mind?
Todd: Did you see that kid's wheels turning?? He's a sex monster!! I don't want my daughter anywhere around this kid!
Me: Your daughter is SIX!
Todd: Even worse!
Me: Um, I think I'll take it from here.
We returned to the living room to resume the education of young Jack.
Me: Listen, Jack, when a boy and girl have feelings for one another it can be a beautiful experience like none other. But, you have to be responsible about it.
Jack: How?
Me: Well, no matter how strong the urge may be, never, EVER have sex with your girlfriend's best friend...no matter how many times she assures you that she'll never say a word to your girlfriend. Oh, and ALWAYS be suspicious of men named Carlos.
Jack: Why?
Me: Because guys named Carlos, especially if they work in the same office with your lady friend, will innocently offer to give her a ride to and from work. They'll cheerfully and dismissively insist:
"Hey...It's on the way, so it's not a problem to swing by; why not save a cab fare?"
They also work out a lot and wear excessive amounts of hair gel.
Next thing you know, Carlos is talking on the phone with your lady friend at odd hours and then you find receipts hidden in the dresser drawer from an out of the way little trendy coffee house, an outlet store near the beach, the art museum, some cozy little pizza shop on the opposite side of town and so on.
You'll then begin to notice a distant air about her until, one day, you walk in early from work and there they are...writhing around in a twisted, disgusting, sweaty, naked...
Todd: Uh, Jim, could I see you in the kitchen for a second please??
After about 5-minutes or so, Todd and I returned to the living room, where Jack had a little surprise of his own.
Jack: Actually, Miss Hansen, my health and wellness teacher, says that talkin' about sex and having babies and stuff isn't really a one-time talk. She says it's an ongoing process and if I have questions I should ask.
I know where babies come from, but I'm not really interested in hangin' out with girls or dating or anything right now. Besides, all the girls I know don't like to play video games and they pretty much suck at basketball. If it's cool with you guys, I can ask you guys sometime if I find a girl who's pretty cool to hang out with...if that'd be okay?
Todd: Uh, yeah...of course. That's cool Jack.
Me: Absolutely! I'm glad we chatted about this. Listen, I don't think there's any need to share our chat this afternoon with your mom. Let's just keep it between us guys.
Jack: No worries...that's cool. Thanks guys.
Todd and I breathed a sigh of relief as we returned to the kitchen, where we found Michelle and Todd's wife, Melissa, standing there staring at us with a pinpoint-laser, judgmental glare.
Later that evening, after we dumped Todd's overnight bag at my house, Todd and I found ourselves sitting at the end of a dark, lonely pub, wondering where and when it all went wrong.
