The night Fox left for his week-long business trip, I went to his house for dinner and dropped him off at the airport.
That night I spent an hour chatting with a nephew who was temporarily living with him between graduation and a job relocation. It was nice to see Fox in Uncle mode.
Then I met his daughter who is about to turn 17 – she was coming upstairs for a minute to grab a few things prior to a concert. Sixty seconds of teenager; I’d forgotten what it’s like. Fox had bought cupcakes to celebrate my birthday and I offered her one. Then she was gone.
I couldn’t have messed up the minute too badly because she reported back that I “seem nice”. As did his nephew. As have his friends.
I hate nice, by the way. Makes me sound like paste. Oatmeal. Bland. Socks are nice. I’d much prefer to be described as interesting, smart, beautiful. Nice is what people say when they have nothing to say, or nothing nice to say.
But Fox wisely asked what else I expected his nephew and child to say. Fair point. We’ll see what his friends say after they’ve met me.
This past weekend Fox returned, and I spent an extended period of time with his daughter.
I guess teens hate to think of their parents as sexual creatures. At one point Fox kissed me in front of her and she said “ewwww”. Which just made me chuckle, as I thought about the sex we had the night before where he decided to use a butt plug on me (no, not the doorstop) and we also had crazy hot couch sex that ended with me laying panting and spent on the floor in my living room.
In a later conversation, she was needling him to get her into a party the two of us are attending later in the Fall. It’s a big holiday event for two well-known radio personalities and the entertainment is usually incredible. He kept saying no and she kept pestering so I finally said “I think your Dad probably doesn’t want you to see him drinking.”
He nodded his assent, yet it wasn’t enough for her so I jokingly said “anyway he also probably doesn’t want you to see him all over his girlfriend.”
The look of disgust on her face was the kind only a teenage girl can muster. She said “Ann, this isn’t about you, but UGH. He’s my DAD. I mean, he’s acting like my BOYFRIEND does with me and I’ve never seen him act like this before. It’s WEIRD.”
Which made me feel all warm inside.
Basically, we are acting like teenagers.
It makes me realize it’s quite likely I’m still going to be a very sexual creature at age 60. Just like my grandmother. Who I obviously need to write about here. I’ve got some good stories.
I’m starting to understand why people say youth is wasted on the young.