I've tried, more than once, having "the Talk" with each of my three boys. Didn't work. The minute they sense it coming, they start edging out of the room, filling the air with whatever euphonious rubbish they could conjure in order to effect their exits, kind of the way a squid emits a cloud of ink before shooting its tubular self to another part of the ocean:
"Uh-huh, yeah, thanks for that, got it, so you think sex is something I should – oh, hey, I think I hear my phone ringing in the other room, anyway, seriously, Dad, keep in touch..."
I'm envious of at least one female friend who says (and it turns out the Talk is yet another area in which parenting one-upmanship is in full effect) stuff like: "Oh, yes, in the case of my girls, it's not so much a question of having the Talk as it is an ongoing, deeply enriching two-way dialogue about sex and sexuality in which we both learn from one another" and la la la.
The way she tells it they practically wind up in tears singing Kumbaya, it's all such a montage of good parenting and two-way communication while snacking on kale chips and whatever else people who've got it all together do.
But my boys would never have any of that.
I decided to slyly slip whatever advice I have to give wrapped in a cotton-candy floss of stories about my own youth:
What a dateless wonder I was in high school. How I only got one date and the whole thing was a lecture on why I never got dates. I met her on the subway platform, which she used as the launching pad for her remarks: why didn't I have a driver's licence yet, why was I always in trouble with the teachers, how all the girls thought I had a bad reputation, etc.
Moral(s): Women compare notes. If you want to date one of them, they all have to be impressed.
I told them about how when I finally got regular sex in university, from my first love, the Italian bombshell Francesca, it was like a spiritual awakening. I found my groove, felt more comfortable in my own skin, food tasted better, the air smelled sweeter, I had more energy and self-confidence than I had ever dreamed.
Moral: It's far better to work at a relationship and get regular sex than some fly-by-night conquests.
Also, in their presence, I try to demonstrate, through words and actions, my profound affection and respect for their mother, my wife of 23 years, and give just a hint of the weird, science-defying fact that I am more attracted to her than ever.
It's all an attempt to be an antidote to the porn/technological aspect of the issue, which frankly I find challenging, as a parent. It's changed so much since I was younger. I remember finding my father's Playboys in a trunk. Score! Now kids are bombarded on all sides by all kinds of weird, dank, disturbing stuff. They've got porn popping out of their phones. Think about that.
I was speaking to a mother friend of mine recently who was helping her 12-year-old with his phone when Pornhub popped up – a sad, deeply embarrassing moment for both of them.
When my kids were 17, 14 and 11, for the purposes of another article, I was on the phone with an expert who, when he found out their ages, said: "I guarantee you all three of your kids have seen what you or I would call hard-core porn." I said, "No way," put him on hold, went into my kids' techno-basement where the younger two were watching TV and playing video games.
I said, "I'm asking you not as a father but as a journalist: What has your exposure to pornography been?" My middle child said: Some video, but he doesn't seek it out. My youngest said: Still pictures, but no video. I was just about to get back on the line and smugly tell that expert off. As I was leaving, I glimpsed what my youngest was watching on TV: Orange is the New Black. And was caught short: "Are those two women doing what I think they're doing?"
Answer: yes. He was so inured to it he didn't even see it as explicit. I had to go back to the expert and sheepishly admit he was right.
So how to talk to our boys about it, to give them some sort of moral compass?
Well, it might be weird to say, but one uses such tools as are available.
My boys are big fans of the TV show Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and I am very grateful to one of its stars, Terry Crews, for coming out and being honest about his porn addiction, for saying stuff like: "It changes the way you think about people. People become objects. People become body parts; they become things to be used rather than people to be loved."
It's a strong stance, but one I happen to agree with. A little porn: no biggie. But if you fall too far down that rabbit hole, it can ruin lives and relationships. Coming from me, that would be a squirm-inducing statement. But I quote Terry Crews and they nod and look serious and it seems to be getting through.
I do tell them, in no uncertain terms: "Do not share pictures of anyone that are in any way compromising, ever." It's so natural for teens these days to share everything online, they seem surprised it could lead to serious charges, including distribution of child pornography.
Moreover, it is a horrible and not funny thing to do.
I also tell them: If you are in a situation where someone is drunk or otherwise in distress, and something sexual is going on, you are not to be the guy who snickers and whips out his phone. You are the one who comes to her assistance, even if other dudes are saying stuff like: "Dude, what's your problem?"
Mostly, I try to counsel them to be gentlemen, to remember that the men or women they engage in any sort of congress with are real, live human beings and not just body parts – and urge them to counteract the disturbing stuff coming out of their phones and other devices by creating some sunlit memories of their own.