It had to happen.
Like sand through the hourglass or a rain-drenched movie kiss near the end of a rom-com, it was utterly inevitable. My baby’s got a special friend. He went from a ‘tune’ to a ‘boyfriend’ without me even noticing. No one actually told me. No one said, ‘Hey, Dad. Guess what!’ It just happened. I haven’t actually checked her Facebook status, but I’ll die if it says, “in a relationship.”
Oh, God. How did it come to this?
She’s just a kid. Sixteen. SIXTEEN!
And given this has been pretty much sprung on me, I’ve had to go back and think about what it was like when I was sixteen. What was I like? What did I do? What did I want to do? Oh, the shame! My internal thermometer is on its way up.
My first girlfriend, Roz-someone-or-other said I was frigid. We went to the movies in Frankston, year seven, I think. I was meant to pash her, but couldn’t muster the courage. It had been the same with Debra Underwood. While all the other kids were trying to gag each other, I sat next to her absolutely rigid. With fear!