Truly Confused
(Gladstone) – I think there is an issue that I’m hypersensative to. It is quite possible that I might need therapy for this. In fact, I may be quite broken. I’m not even sure I want to be totally vulnerable with my dear readers over this issue. I’m not sure I trust where this conversation could go; in fact, I may lose control over this process.
However, the mere fact that I’ve begun this post, is probably a pretty good assurance that I’ll dive into the subject matter. However, I have to warn you, it is a touchy subject for some, if not all.
When I was growing up, sex and nudity were forbidden topics. We never learned correct anatomical names, nor were basic bodily functions explained. Sex was dirty, nudity was dirty, boundaries were unheard of. When I was about 12 or 13, my dad took us into the garage for “the talk.” It was a full 22 words long. “You guys have probably learned everything you need to know in the locker-room, so there’s nothing I can really tell you.”
And with that, he was back in the house and watching TV again. My brother and I stood there looking at the floor. He, probably too young to really know what that conversation was about; and me, thinking, “Dad, have you not realized how shy and introverted I am?” I spent the next several years self-educating via dictionaries, encyclopedias, and Playboy magazines.
So, with this healthy foundation, is it any wonder I have had issues with sex and nudity. On top of that, I was the shy kid that no one noticed. If one of those popular, cute, friendly girls smiled at me (or even gave me the time of day), I was certain that she liked me.
Now it’s not because I’ve continued to be sheltered, or have lived a prudish life. Quite the contrary, I overcompensated for that sheltered childhood and did a little more self-educating. But amazingly, I have an even more damaged view on the whole sex and nudity issue. So, I’d like to delve into this subject, based on an event that happened to me yesterday. Can I trust you?
As I was walking back to my motel, I received a phone call from the school board chair. He wanted to fill me in on the meeting I missed. To fill the time, and thanks to the marvels of wireless phones, I thought I’d walk down and see the old swimming hole: High Rocks.
When I arrived, there were two or three groups of mid-teen kids. They were swimming, drinking, playing – you know, the High Rocks thing. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was right there; but it doesn’t seem that I was ever that young.
Just then, I look up, and across the river there was a group of 10 boys and two girls. The boys had on shorts, but the girls were naked. Twenty-five or so years ago, I would have been right there. But I could swear that girls didn’t get naked that easily – no matter how much beer we provided.
Several thoughts went instantly through my head, and none of them involved arousal. Now, I’m an old fart dad and I have a little girl who will be a teen in less than 10 years. And in my experience, boys and girls only get naked for three reasons: to bathe, to change clothes, or to have sex.
My world was rocked. I stumbled up the hill trying to process these thoughts. I reached a point a long time ago where I no longer find women under the age of oh, about 30, attractive. So to me, these were little girls – plus, they were too far away to see anything.
Anyway, I don’t have anything more than questions at this point. I have no deep thoughts. I have no point to make. I don’t even know where to go with this.
- Why would little 15 year old girls get naked with a bunch of clothed guys?
I used to be intrigued by any girl who would smile at me. When a woman takes her clothes off in my presence, it generally signals some availability.
- Is this the way women look at it?
Now of course, I’ve been naked hot-tubbing in groups, and all those women weren’t offering to have sex with me, but from a man’s point of view, it is certainly in our heads.
- Do women not know what we’re thinking? Or do they; is that the allure?
As I finished my phone call, and on the walk back home, I became even more resolved to be a good dad, a good father, and a solid influence in my kids lives. I know that my promiscuous past, certainly caused some additional heartache in my life and the lives of some of my former girlfriends. I would like to do everything I can to help my kids avoid as much heartbreak as possible.
My availability (emotional, physical, geographical, and psychological) will help provide a solid foundation under my kids. I’m hoping they can bypass some of the pain I experienced in my 20s.
- In the meantime, can someone please help me understand this event?
I’m a Jerk (still)
(Gladstone, OR) – I blew it with my wife last night.
This week is tough on my family. Normally I’m working from home and can interchange family time with work. However, this week, because we’re at a large convention, I have assigned duties and it makes it hard to be with the Fam. There are kids programs so my wife is dropping off our 3 y.o. daughter and then taking our infant son to his program. Unfortunately, that doesn’t leave her available to attend any adult programs. So, this makes for some stress.
“It’s just hair”
As we were walking back to the motel last night, my wife was lamenting about some of our “friends.” None of them mentioned her new haircut or coloring. This was a huge step for her, since I was not in favor of it from the get go. Being kind of a hippie at heart, I go for the more natural look. For me, it seems that it is very trendy for women to put highlights in their hair – and this gives them either a trashy, trendy, or “desperate-housewives” look.
So, for her to go out and do this, was a big step for her. I’m proud that she went against my wishes (and I need to tell her that), but I still don’t think it adds to her beauty.
Anyway, last night she mentioned how no one, from our new circle of friends has commented on her hair. For a woman, this is huge. For me, the less comments the better. It’s just hair.
I was distracted though. Wasn’t reading between the lines. Was wrapped up in my own crap.
Strike 1 – When I got to the room, we talked some, then I drifted over to the laptop and got lost into the ether. I’m not getting enough “me” time this week. Am having trouble being around all these people. And this 250 sq.ft. room has no place to hide. So, without thinking, I quit listening and drifted to my feed reader. “Uh-huh,” I said. “I’m listening….uh-huh…”
Strike 2 – I browsed over to see a friend request on FaceBook and called my wife over to see the picture of an old friend. A younger, very attractive, and very vivacious friend. “See,” I commented. “That’s what I mean when I say look at younger women to get hairstyle ideas.”
Strike 3 – “Why are you being defensive. I’m just talking.” I defended. “I’m not comparing you to her. I’m just making a suggestion.”
“Dang! I am SO stupid!”
In the meantime, our overstimulated daughter began to go into her post-10pm meltdown. Our overtired son began to claw at mommy’s breasts saying, “nya, nya, nya!” His way of asking to nurse. It began to dawn on me that my need for solace and quiet and alone-time was not going to happen. It began to dawn on me that this is one of those times that as “The Dad,” I was going to have to put aside my needs and focus on my family.
I put my daughter on the couch (thank goodness this is a suite) and asked her to be quiet for five minutes. I gave her a book to read. While mommy lay in bed, nursing our son, I brushed my teeth and did all those other pre-bedtime tasks. With the lull in the storm, I had a moment to think:
“I hadn’t done anything wrong. Right? It’s OK to make observations. It’s OK to make suggestions. I have a right to my opnions. Why is she so bummed? Why the tears and frustration?
“Sheesh, come on woman, cowboy-up!”
And then it hit me:
“Oops! I wasn’t reading between the lines. She was already not feeling embraced or accepted by her so-called friends. She was already feeling self-conscious about her hair. She was already thinking how ugly she must look. And then, what do I do? I pile it on.
“The one person she trusts. Her best-best-friend. And I blew it.
“Screw my pride. Screw my agenda. Screw my selfish attitude and opinions.”
I walked over to her bedside and put my arms around her (the best I could, because she was nursing) and told her I was sorry. I hadn’t read between the lines and wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was an idiot!
The tears flowed and everything she said confirmed my thoughts above.
I can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube, and I can’t take my words back. I hate my selfishness.
“I can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube”
I knew I was a selfish jerk before I got married. I spent most of my life trying to become the perfect jerk, because I thought that’s how one succeeds in earning respect. Last night was a reminder that I’m not fully recovered yet.
I still have much to unlearn about being a jerk. And I have much to learn about the beautiful woman in my life. In my mind, she is perfect. Still. I need to tell her that more often.
Its All a Matter of Perspective
(Gladstone, OR) – How does one stay focused on the real priorities of life, when everything and everyone around you is trying to push in another direction? It is like trying to walk upstream in floodwaters. Yesterday, I had to fight to stay focused on my family and their needs. Now I know how to fight, but to fight and still make it a good day for the family, well that’s another story.
Last week I was told that I’ll be on the hospitality team for this conference. A few days later, I was asked (told?) to be here at 7:15am on Sunday morning. After a few phone calls and e-mails, I helped the organizers realize that getting my whole family out the door, for a week away, at 5:00 o’clock Sunday morning – well, let’s just say it might be easier to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.
It was finally agreed that I should aim for 9:00am (which I knew was a fantasy, but I said we’d try). Then, Friday afternoon, I received an e-mail from my boss’s boss’s boss, telling (asking?) me how important it was to be here early Sunday morning and that they’d even pay for an extra night of motel so we could come down Saturday night. I sent a nice reply back, explaining that because we hadn’t planned on this, it wouldn’t fit our schedule.
We finally got out of the house at 10:22am yesterday morning and began the hour drive to Gladstone. I called the hospitality team supervisor to let him know we were running late. He was a bit incredulous, but I was relaxed.
Now this is the cool thing. I wasn’t stressed. My wife gave me one of those sideways, up and down looks and smiled, “I love that you’re not stressed,” she said.
“Why should I be,” I asked? It isn’t my problem.
The reason I’m not stressed is because I’m clear on my priorities. My family comes before my career and/or my job. If I’m going to uproot my family for a week, cram them into a 250 square foot motel room, and ask my wife to take on sole childcare responsibilities in an alien environment – well, the least I can do is make their ride as comfortable as possible. And the first place to start this is by not pushing, pushing, pushing to get out the door at some unfathomable, arbitrary time.
Even I was amazed at myself yesterday. I remember my parents being in similar situations. There was usually a lot of stress, yelling, and confusion. My brother and I just tried to avoid the shrapnel. But yesterday, my daughter was so excited about this excursion, it was fun to build on her anticipation and to make it fun for everyone.
We arrived here just before noon and ate lunch with other participants. Then I went to the hospitality office and got the stuff I’d need to do my job here. I was taken to my team and they explained what I needed to do and when. Then I excused myself to take my family to the motel and get checked in. Unfortunately, the motel was overwhelmed with conference participants and was running about an hour behind in getting rooms ready for us.
The kids were already asleep in their car seats, and the best way to manage that is to drive. So, off we went – before long even my wife had drifted into what looked like a delightful, coveted nap.
My random path led me to Sellwood Park. I knew by the time I arrived there, my daughter would be waking up and we could play in the playgound, while the rest of the family continued their blissful rest. Just before leaving, I bought snowcones and off we went to get into our motel room.
The phone call couldn’t have had better timing. It was the director of the hospitality teams wanting to know where I was and why I wasn’t at my station. In his defense, I’d said I would try to be there at 9:00am, and here it was almost 5:00pm. He ended the call with a, “we’ll talk when you get here!”
I hung up with a smile on my face. Once again, my wife looked me up and down with a “who are you” look in her eyes. Once again she said, “I love that you’re not stressed.” To tell the truth, I was pretty amazed too. I have a natural strength for being responsible (check out the about page here) and it doesn’t come naturally for me to not be responsible. Normally, I wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure of being told I was screwing up.
However, it’s all a matter of perspective. If my #1 priority was to my employer, this director who thinks he owns my soul this week, or my assigned tasks, I would be stressed. I would be pushing my family to “go, go, GO!”
That’s not the deal though. My family is first, before my career, other relationships, or even my own selfish ambitions (I’m still working on this one). It was easy to put them first yesterday. I was not only NOT stressed, I was riding a wave of elation. I felt like I’d won the lottery! I was practicing what I’ve been preaching (to myself) for several years. It was an awesome feeling!
When I finally showed up at my post, around 6:30 last night; the folks there were relaxed. They told me that everything is fine. They were glad I took care of my family – and so was I.
I got back to the hotel about 8:30pm. My wife and kids were in the pool. They were having an awesome time – making friends and enjoying the amenities. They were happy – and that’s what yesterday was all about.
[Follow-up: the person giving me a hard time about being late, pulled me aside and apologized for getting stressed. He then asked to meet my wife and he apologized to her. That was cool!]
Confessing my Dad Attitude 