Raunch

Beware of befriending, via Facebook, BBM, or the like, the children of your friends. Everyone needs their secrets, don’t you know?

To whit, a BB message from the 13 year old daughter of a dear friend:

‘I like big dicks’.

I am not joking, nor am I exaggerating.  This is a direct quote because as you must know, I do not talk this way.  But that’s not the point.  The point is WHY IS SHE TALKING THIS WAY?!   What does she know of dicks, big or small?  Has she seen small ones, and thus knows she prefers big ones?  Does she know what a dick is?  What is going on here?!  She’s 13!  THIRTEEN! 

Pause, reflective pause.  It’s not her fault, really.  I blame the media.  And Lady Gaga and Rihanna and all the other celebs they idolize who believe it’s totally proper to leave the house without trousers and with push up bras for tops, who sell hyper-sex and ultimately make everything so sceazy (scuzzy and sleazy) and in your face.  This new raunchiness is overt and meaningless.  None of this stuff – nudity, sex, lingo - really means anything to anyone anymore, especially someone who had no context to begin with.

While Rihanna’s new tune is pretty great, I wonder how many kiddies have any idea what  the excitement of those whips and chains is all about.  Do they know what this means?  Of course (hopefully) not.  Did I have any idea, at fourteen, what Depeche Mode’s Master & Servant was all about?  The butler, right?   Of course it’s nothing new, but somehow now it seems different.  There’s just so much more of it.  It’s a veritable onslaught.  Am I being naïve?  Are things really out of control?  Have we lost all innocence and romance?   When did it become de rigeur for kids to use words like dicks and tits and everything else as throwaways without consideration or meaning?  Am I turning into Tipper Gore?

Maybe, she said with a sigh.

Maybe I just want to channel some JT and bring the sexy back.  The times of little note passing and downturned eyes and giggles and blushing of girl memories that turn into butterflies and crazy-fast heartbeats and stolen kisses of bigger girl memories and finally the anticipation and seduction and sexy (not just sex, sexy) of now memories.   When all the other stuff – the nudity, the sex, the lingo – becomes commonplace to the point of meaningless you demystify the magic, the mystery and even the anticipation.  Quelle buzzkill.

So, sure, saying at 13 you like big dicks is (hopefully) like saying you like big spaceships: it’s (hopefully) otherwordly.  I know she’s a good girl and was just messing around with some friends.  Of course I will never tell her parents.  Of course I will be there to talk to her as a somewhat cool non-parent adult, because regardless of how cool your parents actually are, as a kid you never think they’re cool until you’re older.  Having non-parent adult influences and sounding boards are important for a kid.  If I do say so myself, I think I did a damn good job with our discussion on Chris Brown.  It does make me a little sad – shocked that phrasing like this has reached her peer groups’ vernacular and it’s cutting them all off from the SLOW AND GRADUAL natural progression of things.  Thirteen, people.  Thirteen.  I know for damn sure she won’t become one of those girls out in a pack at night in one of those butt & boob dresses drunk-tripping over impossible heels – you’ve seen these girls – she’s way too sensible for that, but for how long will she be able to stay sensible with the onslaught she’s being hit with on a daily basis?

 I think a nunnery on speed dial is the only solution.  Don’t you?