Look What I Can Do!

Last week, I was a guest teacher through the Writers-in-the-Schools program. I was invited to do a one-hour performance workshop for two classes of 8th graders in preparation for a reading that each 8th grader would give for their classmates, parents, and faculty. A recital of sorts.

I went in thinking, "I can do this," and I walked out wondering if I should ever procreate. Sure, I've worked one on one with teenagers as a writing mentor and coached writers before performances, but I wasn't ready for this: girls running up and down the halls in all types of slutlery; jeans that looked like they'd need the jaws of life to get on and off and little tops that- if these girls were old enough to have boobs- would be showing enough skin to get them employee of the month here.

And to top it all off, in the middle of my lesson, a young girl got up and strutted her performance chops by stuffing her entire fist in her mouth. Whole fist. In her mouth. In front of the whole class. Kind of like this. Only the 8th grader had a smaller hand and a bigger mouth.

Since then, I have really contemplated whether I even want to have kids. It sent me into such a deep spiral I was hopping up from the dinner table declaring to my wife, "No make-up until she's married! And that's that!"

I began blaming myself. After all, I am a Playboy subscriber (5 years and counting!), and in my college days, I prided myself on my keen ability to turn just about any statement into sexual innuendo at the disgust of my then-girlfriend (Now wife. I think she secretly liked my sense of humor.). I look at women all the time, and not the glasses wearing word nerds lining the independent bookstores of my dreams, I look at those women in slutlery, the ones who can put a fist- and a whole lot more, I'm sure- in their mouths. But the guilt became too much; they were once 8th graders too.

And then I found this article by Steve Almond. Not only did I laugh my ass off, but I realized that there are others out there like me, men who look at the Lindsays of the world with both desire and disgust. And most of that disgust is with ourselves as men.