The Sex Post Mothers Won’t Read

Some of you may call this linkbait and some of you may call it the finest worst piece of writing you have ever read.

That is ok with me, at least three of you will admit to having read it and one of you will even say you liked it.

If you happen to be my mother I reckon you don’t want to read about hot monkey love and your son so skip down to the bottom paragraph or better yet don’t read this.

Really mom, do you want to have to bleach your eyes because I am about to paint the kind of picture mama doesn’t want to associate with their baby boy.

Yeah, I know you’ll say you know I am a father and that means I must have some carnal knowledge, but that is as far as you need to go.

Last chance to bail out.

 

The Sex Post Mothers Won’t Read

“Can I ask you a question?”

I nod my head and he tells me he hopes I won’t be offended.

“I am going to get married this year and want to know if your sex life really dies after your turn 40.”

“What makes you think I know I remember being 40?”

“It is not like you’re that much older, you are what, 43 or something like that right?”

“Does 43 sound really old to you?”

“It is probably not as bad as being like 45 or 46, but yeah to be honest it does.”

I laugh and ask him if he is screwing with me.

“I am going to be 49 next year. My daughter likes to try and tease me about being almost 50. I tease her right back and start singing ‘look at that dad bod, look at that dad bod.’ She loves that.”

This time he laughs, “well she might have a point.”

“Listen you pisher, there is a bunch of 49 year-old women, a handful of 50 somethings and a dozen. 25 year-olds with daddy issues that dream of me. Or maybe it is have nightmares, I can’t remember so I’ll say there has to be at least one monkey who has fond memories of quiet moments with yours truly.”

“That is a horrific image and I am going to have nightmares. What the hell is a pisher?”

*****

Aging is one of those things that we sometimes think of funny as in laughter and sometimes as in odd.

Some of us d0 better moving on up the number chain with grace than others. I don’t know that I am any better or worse than most my age.

I just know that I am trying hard to keep things in place and working as they should for as long as I can.

The pisher is going to turn 26 and is nervous because he had one of those moments with a woman.

Because I am a kind man I told him that no woman over 40 will tolerate such malfunctions and that those who are empty nesters are insatiable and experts in things the young can only dream of.

He tells me he is sure that is an exaggeration and I whisper in his ear that I have a former friend who has more than 30 years of experience and that you don’t get really good at things without practice.

“Dude, I still think you are screwing with me.”

“If I was you’d be calling out for god and begging me not to stop.”

“That might be the most horrific image I have ever been forced to imagine.”

“No, I can do better than that.”

“Please don’t.”

I laugh and tell him if it makes him feel better he can imagine that mothers never read sex posts.

He tells me I am evil and I smile.

“You have no idea.”

 

I Thought You Should Know

I haven’t driven for Lyft in a long while and hadn’t intended on doing so today except I saw my bank account after the big trip to New Jersey and decided it wouldn’t hurt to give a few rides each day this week.

In concept it should provide another $100 or so and since I tell the kids when you want something you need to take action I figured it was time.

That is how I ended up going from Las Colinas to Love field during rush hour and then from Love deeper into Dallas.

The second set of passengers were pilots and we did the usual small talk bit about who we are and what we do.

What I didn’t expect was to hear one of them start softly singing You Ought To Know to himself.

I can guarantee that when this song came out 22 years ago I never expected to listen to some guy with a soft drawl sing it or that I would be moonlighting as a wannabe cab driver.

If you are waiting for me to connect it to the anniversary of 9/11 let me cut to the chase and tell you that I didn’t think about that.

Didn’t ask them if they felt anything about the day because they were pilots or inquire as to what they were doing then.

All I thought of was how I appreciate the idea of wanting to tell someone what you really think and maybe hear what they really think, assuming you’d get the chance to have that sort of conversation.

Running With The Wolves

This was the second consecutive year I flew on or close to the anniversary of 9/11.

I wasn’t particularly worried either time but I did my usual spot check of passengers and because my family was with me I paid extra attention to what was going on around me.

That is a habit that I developed when my wife was pregnant with our oldest and I became dad, the secret service agent.

Whenever we walked through crowds I made a point to try to make sure no one bumped into her just in case.

Yeah, I knew chances were very slim that an errant shopping bag or cart would smack into her pregnant belly and hurt my as of then unborn child but I am not built to just sit back and watch that kind of thing.

So I made like a lineman and cleared space all around her. My Raiders would have signed me to a contract if they had seen the kind of holes I created.

Anyhoo, the plane ride this year was mostly uneventful, at least as far as people were concerned.

Turbulence was a different tale because it got pretty bumpy and I wasn’t a big fan of listening to the mutters, murmurs and occasional screams from other passengers.

Not to mention it made me a little nervous once or twice because there wasn’t a damn thing I could do other than ride it out and remind myself that the pilots had thousands of hours at the stick, or s0 I figured.

About an hour into it I closed my eyes and pretended I was running with the wolves because wolves don’t worry about turbulence or human concerns like that.

They just do what wolves do.

Choices

The pisher asks me other questions and shares some fears and thoughts and I respond.

I don’t tell him how strange it is to me to realize he is closer in age to my son than to me because neither of us want to hear that.

It isn’t really about our ages as much as it is a moment to share our collective humanity.

When he asks me about my greatest regret I tell him I have very few but they are huge.

“Will you share the details?”

“Nope, not today, Not now. Today I am feeling a bit more fragile but I’ll talk in general.”

I tell him to do his best to recognize opportunity and to go for it when he can. I tell him there is always a reason to hold back and to let fear drive you.

That is not something I do anymore.

Fear doesn’t push or pull, it just whispers and I do my best to stay deaf.

And then I wave at him to come closer and tell him…