#299

I've heard from more readers lately. Thank you. I'm happy you stop here for amusement, or a dose of superiority, which is a natural human need, by the way, don't kid yourself (although people who seek it insatiably are kind of annoying). It's okay to think: they're pretty weird, more than us at least.

A few of you indicated that reading this feels like stalking. It's not. I over-disclose and write poorly; the writing you're used to is crisp and great and decidedly never makes anyone feel creepy. You haven't stalked anyone. Not since your teens anyway. And twenties. But you were in love. Stalking is nothing to joke about. Blog stats indicate hundreds of you visit per post, and overall in increments of 10k. You're not alone. And very sincerely, thank you.

Jumping right into more awkwardness: Michael is a teenager now and big. His physicality suggests otherwise but he's still a kid. This is the opposite of my junior high experience; I was short, scrawny, high-voiced, and a dolphin. During every basketball game, I'd think, shit, I can't match-up with this guy, he has armpit hair and muscles. This sucks! (Then I'd drop 20 points on him and shut him down on D, but it was tiresome.... Humblebragging: transparent, shallow, and fun.) Although it's very much in his DNA from me, Michael doesn't have a chest pelt yet – think Barry Gibb with three buttons unfastened and a medallion – but his physical maturation has to be outpacing his mental and emotional growth. And he's a guy. Recipe for disaster? Of course not. The male brain isn't fully developed until our mid-twenties, and this makes zero sense to me – lots to add here by way of humor, sorrow, dysfunction – but men are men, and without us, things would be a lot different and not for the better! Also, regarding youth versus age, it's the older guys, and not the young ones, who cause the big problems. Politicians, of course, are a perfect example.

I wonder what happens when Michael discovers these scribblings exist. I can tell him there's no audience (which was true at the beginning), and if I had one, it wouldn't include him until he's much older, like my current age, which is to say on the precipice of his own little midlife trough, hoping he's a good dad, feeling a little restless or rueful perhaps, you know, which happens to men at 'halftime' before we rebound, kick-ass for a few more decades, then ride off into the sunset.