A two-way street

Greetings and salutations, Bloglandians!  It’s me again and I’ve got a burr up my butt that needs some attention.  Grab a cold one and settle in.  Maybe bring some tweezers while you’re at it.

I’ve been blogging since His Awesomeness was in elementary school.  Don’t ask what year because, hell, I barely remember to truss the girls up before unleashing myself on society.  No sense scaring the general public with a free swinging rack big enough to qualify as cannonballs, amiright.  Suffice to say, aforementioned child is set to graduate high school at the end of May, so I’ve been blogging a while.

Yes, he and The Diva still give me plenty of fodder for blog posts, but given that the majority of them are now somewhat…ummm…sensitive in nature, I don’t usually announce it to the planet.  But, oh, the blackmail material I am accumulating!

I digress.

Let’s talk about…teenage dating.

Cue the retching and projectile vomiting.  I’d much rather hear a kid’s voice coming from behind a closed bathroom door, asking me to come in and “take a look at something” than experience the vertigo induced by the roller-coaster of teen dating.  And yes, I just alluded to genitalia and dating in the same sentence.  It’s a gift.

From the get-go, Himself and I, well, mostly I, have harped on The Codefendants about respect.  Himself never even got the sex talk, y’all so it’s up to my blunt-assed self to take up the slack.  Anyway: respect.  It’s not just a song by Aretha Franklin, y’all.  Respect for self, for others, for possessions, for ideas, for commitments, yada, yada, yada.

What are YOU willing to put up with?

How do you want to be treated?  Are you the feet, the mat or neither?  You better be neither.

What line will you draw in the sand and say “no more”?

Will you even draw a line?

Do they even teach you what a damn line is in public school these days or is it all about the new math?

Whatever.  Find some standards.  State your standards.  Live your standards.  Ya feel me?

Where am I going?  Patience, grasshopper.  I’m getting there.

When your child(ren), curtain climbers, ankle biters, sad sacks of smells-like-teen-angst are entering the dating world, please bear something in mind that you need to hammer home.

RESPECT IS A TWO WAY STREET.

Remember my comment about the no-sex-talk and Himself?  Yeah, well, I got to give that one to both The Codefendants.  It’s actually not that hard.  *snicker*  I simply Googled a penile syphilitic lesion and paraded that puppy around like a Kim K and her big ass.    My exact words were (and I’ll pause here and tell my parents to skip this part) “I don’t care if they’re bare-assed naked and shimmying around on your face, that’s still someone else’s kid.  You don’t let liquor or dope determine how you’ll treat someone or how you’ll allow them to treat you”.

We’ve come a long way, baby and we women are just as awesome and entitled to grab the world by the figurative balls as a man, but we need to remember that in our quest to be treated and seen as equals, we still owe it to our daughters, our sons, and our future grandchildren (please, God, not until I’m 60!) to be respectful in the dating game.  Even to the menfolk.  Sure, it’s fun to rearrange the kitchen cabinets so he spends 45 minutes looking for the can opener, but really, c’mon.  Wait, did I just type that?  Ahem.

Say your precious snowflake is approached and asked out on a date.  Instead of saying “hell, no, I won’t go” opt for “thanks so much for asking, but I prefer to be friends”.  All bets are off if the asker eschews soap, deodorant, and fresh breath.  Standards, remember?

Or instead of jumping in with an immediate “yes” only to regret it later, say “I’ll get back to you in 24 hours”.  And then follow through and get back to them in 24 hours.

Everyone wins.  Is there a trophy that comes with that?  Nope.  No one looks like a screaming mee-mee asshole.  There should be a trophy for that.

I’m sure there’ll be flak over all this, but, guess what, your daughter isn’t any more or less precious than my son; my daughter isn’t any more or less precious than your boy.  Mine are cuter, for sure, but you get what I’m saying here.

PLEASE GO BACK TO THAT WHOLE “GOLDEN RULE” THING AND RAISE YOUR KIDS UP TO TREAT OTHERS THE WAY THEY’D WANT TO BE TREATED THEMSELVES.  IT’S THE RIGHT THING TO DO, IT’S FREE, AND YOU DON’T HAVE TO PUT ON A BRA TO TEACH IT.   EVEN ESCHEWING THE WHOLE RELIGIOUS REFERENCE THING, AT LEAST MAKE RESPECT SOMETHING YOU TEACH AT HOME.

Peace out, y’all.

~QuiltnMama

 

 

 

 

 

 

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11 comments

  1. You are absolutely hysterical….Love all of your blog posts….makes me aware of the fact that I’m not alone here!
    Thank you for making me feel that everyone is out of step except for me! and you!

  2. Your kids are lucky to have a mom who says all this out loud. They may not truly be able to live it just yet but your voice will be in their heads until they can. Wishing you and them luck!

  3. I love reading your posts. You tell it like it is — in a very funny form. And today you really nailed it. Someone commented that your kids are lucky to have a mom like you (willing to discuss sensitive topics) and I agree. Keep up the good work 😉

    • Well, thank you very much! Someone has to say it, much to the horror of my son who read the post with his mouth hanging open. Someday they’ll thank me, right?

  4. Also the lucky parent to give the sex talk to my boys- I think I did okay but you did AWESOME. Mine are in their fifties but the “respect” talk was still needed
    way back then

    • Thank you! You can’t be embarrassed. Well, you can but you can’t let it show. Kind of like not showing fear when confronted by a rabid dog. My son expressed horror that I knew what certain acts and words meant. And that I used them in the appropriate context. 🤷‍♀️

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