- My wife informs me that our daughter (12) has a boyfriend.
- I die; I lament the rapidly approaching loss of my beautiful, innocent little girl; I recall the thoughts that inhabited my 12 year old boy brain, and I wince; I am told in no uncertain terms by my wife that I am to be “positive” and “supportive” of this development, and to be grateful that we have successfully fostered a domestic atmosphere in which my daughter is comfortable to share such information with us; My murderous feelings barely suppressed, I start playing Hitman again, taking unsettling pleasure in the calm and premeditated killing occurring at my hands; I frequently swear quietly under my breath, sometimes muttering his name; I raise the issue with my daughter, replying with platitudes such as “that’s good” and “he sounds nice”, despite hating this young boy whom I have not met to my very core.
- My wife asks my daughter if she has kissed this boy. She recoils in horror at the mere suggestion, adding “it’s really awkward when it’s just me and him and we don’t know what to say.”
- I am reborn.
ben parfitt 