J-Man Has A Girlfriend

Intelligence reports started coming in on Tuesday. J-Man, it was reported, had officially declared he had his first girlfriend. I could feel the gray hairs meeting on the top of my head, reminding each other that they’d be having new neighbors really soon.

Now, I would have loved to talk to him about it, but I wanted him to tell me first. And, I didn’t want to be too snoopy, at least not this soon.

This morning, we are driving to school and he says, “I know you know.”

We went round and round about what I knew and when I knew it for a while. Then, I unloaded his bike from the back of the car. I said, “I was waiting for you to tell me.” He said, “You didn’t ask.” I forgot about the requisite parental privacy invasion clause in my contract.

After many half-ass attempts to talk to these kids over the years, I’ve hit upon a couple of sure-fire methods. With the boys it’s go for a ride in the car. They don’t have to look at you, but are in proximity, so they got the “Mom loves you vibe.”

With Em, the best method is to sit right across from each other, maybe even holding hands—or touching in some way, like having my arms draped over her with foreheads touching.

I sensed he wanted to talk about it, but didn’t see that we’d be alone in the car anytime soon, so I did a J-Man. He likes to talk by e-mailing me from six feet above me in the loft. So, what did I do? I called him on the phone. He called me doing so, “random.” I had all kinds of things running through my head.

HAH: So, do you want to tell me about this girlfriend? [Please, don’t let her be 35 and one of your teachers]

J-Man: Her name is *Suzy* [Ah, a name I recognize—one of his GATE friends]

HAH: She was at the basketball game Saturday?

J-Man: Yup. [You seemed a little eager to spend an entire afternoon with just sweaty teenage boys]

HAH: So, what does it mean to be a boyfriend? [Don’t you dare say you hope to get your own stable going to make a little spending money.]

J-Man: What do you mean? It means what you think it means. [Son, you don’t know what I think it could mean]

HAH: It means all kinds of things to different people, how does it look to you?

J-Man: I dunno. [Long, close, slow dances and liplocks have no place in there, right?]

HAH: Will you be going out on dates, just the two of you?

J-Man: No, her parents are strict; I don’t think they’ll let her. [Thank you parents of *Suzy*]

HAH: So, you’ll be doing the group get-together thing? [Damn right!]

J-Man: Yes.

HAH: I think we’ll be revisiting the safe sex talk though, okay?

J-Man: Yes. [At least he didn’t say, “too late.”]

We talk about sex frequently – the physiological mechanics, the emotional consequences, and the way to behave and treat your partner if you do decide you’re going to have sex. I don’t condone having sex young. I’d like them to wait. They know that too. If you ask any of them when they are allowed to get married or make me a grandma, they’ll, by rote, say, “I’ll be at least 25 years old and have an education and a j-o-b.” Kind of a family joke, but the idea behind it is sincerely and deeply meant. I want them to get a start in life and not be tied down by the aftermath of having sex early or starting a family or being forced to make a choice about abortion or adoption. There are more condoms laying around all over this house than in some 3^rd world nations.

But, I also know that ultimately, it won’t be my choice – and I won’t know when it happens. My parents didn’t. I’m pretty sure it will shock me too. I want them to be armed with as much information as they can load into their brain despite that it retracts in proportion with the growing strength of their hormones and urge to procreate.

I know, I’m making some leaps from first group-date girlfriend to me getting an appliquéd sweatshirt from Wal-Mart with “World’s Best Grandma,” but jeez. How did we get here so fast?

© Lori Hahn, 2008