Chapter 20
Twenty
“Mick,” my father barks as I’m heading out the door. I inwardly sigh, wondering what he wants.
My brother Graham scoots by me with a smug grin, too fast for me to retaliate with a punch or slap. I turn and answer instead. “Sir?”
My father motions me with his fingers, and I’m forced to shut the door and walk back to where his fat ass sits in his brown plaid recliner.
“Take a seat. We need to have a talk, man to man.”
I heed his request, clueless what this could be about.
He clears his throat and lights up a cigarette. The old man is smoking Lucky Strikes now and they’re not half bad. I’ve stolen a few here and there. Nothing he’d miss. And I could hella use one now.
His eyes fix on mine. “I’m assuming you’ve gained some understanding about your penis.”
Uhhhh…
At the look on my face, he continues. “I’m sure you’ve touched yourself and ejaculated by now.”
I want to crawl under the sofa cushions. Is this a trick question? A trap? I mean, of course I’ve touched my dick. Many, many times. And I’ll admit, the first time anything shot out of the tip, it freaked me the hell out, never mind what happened to my nuts. Super weird.
The old man’s eyebrows raise.
I reluctantly nod.
“Good. That just means you’re a normal, red-blooded American male, Mick. Nothing wrong with touching yourself. But you’re getting to the age where your penis can get you into trouble, so I’m providing some guidance before that happens.”
I acknowledge with another dip of my chin. Guess it’s my turn for The Talk.
“Pretty soon, you’re going to want to do more with girls than just be friends. You’re going to want to kiss them, touch them underneath their clothes, and eventually, you’ll be overwhelmed with the need to put your penis in their vaginas.”
This is torture. Sweat rolls from my armpits, and when I catch my knee bouncing, I still it with my hand.
“I’m aware you learned some of this in your sex education assembly, but it’s important you’re crystal clear on the matter.
When you ejaculate into a woman’s vagina, that’s how they become pregnant.
You do not want to impregnate a girl at your age or before you are adult enough to plan a family with your chosen wife.
This means you do not have intercourse with girls until you are mature enough to do it safely. You with me so far?”
Unfortunately. “Yes, sir.”
“Now, when the time comes for you to engage in intercourse, you will protect yourself by wearing a prophylactic. Do you understand what that is?”
“Um, no, sir.”
“You may hear it called a condom or rubber, but it’s something you wrap around your penis, kind of like a balloon, that prevents your semen from impregnating anyone.
Now listen carefully. Some girls will tell you they’re on birth control.
This can come in the form of a pill they take every day, or some use other methods that are very good protection from pregnancy, such as a diaphragm or IUD.
” He leans forward, like whatever’s coming is important.
“Never take a woman’s word for this. Women will say anything to trap you in a relationship, including lying about birth control and not taking it properly so it’s unreliable.
No matter what, you must take responsibility for your penis and what comes out of it. Acknowledge.”
Shoot me now. “I understand.”
“Good. Now, when you start exploring a more intimate nature with girls, you’re going to find they may be going full steam ahead and suddenly, they slam on the brakes.
Meaning, they don’t want to go any further, even if it seems like they’re enjoying whatever you’re doing together.
This means you must also slam on the brakes, and it might be uncomfortable for you”—his eyes gesture to my groin— “and your package.”
Great.
“You’ll be tempted to push for more, maybe pressure the girl to change her mind. You’ll start thinking with the wrong head,” he adds, pointing to his own junk.
I’d pray for this to be over if I believed in God.
My father pauses to light another cigarette, and I wipe my palms on my jeans.
“You are to respect a girl’s wishes. If she wants to stop, then you stop. Even if you’re uncomfortable. Even if she initiated it. Even if you feel like you’re going to erupt like a volcano. Got it?”
I nod again and hope he’s almost finished.
He has a short coughing fit and once he stops hacking, ironically takes another drag off his Lucky Strike.
“The last thing I want to talk about is women in general. You’re going to find they’re fickle, emotional, irrational, and generally not straightforward and pragmatic, like most of us men.
They can be happy one minute and crying the next.
Or they tell you how great you are one day and a week later, yell how you never do enough.
Sometimes they’ll lie and tell you there’s nothing wrong when they’re actually upset.
Their moods can flip as fast as a coin, and when you add their hormones into the equation, it gets even messier. ”
I hum in answer and hope like heck that’s not true. Because can I trust anything Bill Callahan has to say about women?
“My advice is don’t try to understand girls.
Just do your best to navigate the waters.
Because when you find a good one, it’s nice.
Real nice. But it will probably take a long time for that to happen and in the meantime, you’re going to be attracted to several.
Go into it prepared, with your head on straight.
Knowing they’re a little crazy, a little unstable, a little needy.
As a man, they’ll be looking to you for stability, reliability, and strength.
Down deep, women want us to be in control.
It’s the way it’s been since man’s earliest days, the way we’re hardwired. ”
He exhales my direction, the smoke tickling my nose, before stubbing out the butt in the ashtray. “Heed my words and I promise, it’ll go better for you.”
My hands press into the sofa, poised to escape this delightful father-son chat, when he stops me.
“One more thing, Mick. You knock up a girl—and it’s your problem. Under no circumstances am I raising your pissant kids because you couldn’t control your hormones. Got it?”
I give him a curt nod, but only one thought ping-pongs through my melon. If I ever have kids—and that’s a big if—I’m not letting Bill Callahan anywhere near them.