The talk…

Pop and I had “the talk” the other day. Not about DNR’s, living wills or estate planning. We had the, shudder, “sex talk.”

First, let me state that almost immediately after Mama died I asked him if he would remarry. He looked at me shocked. “Why?”
“Well Pop you have had two wives in your life and been married for 50+ years. You know, for friendship. For company.”
“Well maybe if she drives. And cooks. But I don’t want to have sex. I don’t think that works anymore anyway.”
Shudder.
“OK” and I promptly drank a bottle of vodka and stuck my head in the sand.

I have had people tell me that my job is to protect him. To shelter him. It’s not. My job is to give him the best years left that I can. To pick him up when he falls but still allow him to talk walks (although timed and with the dogs).

But recently his walks have had a new addition. A woman. He told me, while driving (isn’t that a little cliche?), that he thought the woman wanted to date him.
I said “Do you mean romantically or friendship-like?”
“Oh Dorothy. That doesn’t work anymore, hasn’t for a long time.”

Shudder.

“Well Pop there is medication you can take for that if you want. I guess we could call Jose and get you some Viagra. It helps with, um, that.”
“Old people can’t do that Dorothy.”
“Well actually Pop I think Hugh Hefner does. He is getting married. I think he takes Viagra. And Bob Dole was the spokesperson. And…” Wait. What am I doing? Am I really talking to my father about sex? Am I going to have to start getting condoms? Did someone put drugs in my cereal this morning?

We went out to dinner with this new woman, who is lovely by the way, and she drove. She said on the way that she had been married but was happy now with her life and her animals.

I sighed in the backseat.
I do not mind taking him to get Viagra. I do not mind him having sex. But I do NOT want to discuss STDs and sores and AIDS and all of that.

So he is walking with a new lady. And so far that is all. And he appears to be happy with that. But I am shuddering inside thinking about googling “sores” and sitting my father down for his very first STD talk.

If you see me getting Viagra please get me a bottle of vodka and push my head back in the sand. But I hope she is good cook.

 

Dorothy

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