How to Talk to Your Daughter About Sex

Since I am a father, this should tell you I am a guy. Us guys are wired pretty much the same. We know hat women have a particular "attraction," and we seek to capitalize upon it as much as possible. Yes, we are pigs and have gutters in our minds, but it is because we are guys. As all us guys know, and most will admit, we usually have a single train of thought. We tend to concentrate on what we are doing at the time, and very little can distract us. If we are thinking about football, then we are thinking about football; if we are thinking about food, then we are thinking about food, and so on. However our brains have a default setting, and when there is nothing else to distract us, we think about sex. When we were younger we thought about it a lot, as our hormones changed us from boys to men, we started to develop a sex drive that caused us to do some very crazy things in pursuit of the fair gender. All of us men, whether we admit it or not, were pretty much after the same thing.

After a while we mature, marry, and became parents, some of us becoming the father of a daughter. The father of a daughter has a special challenge, as he now has to break ranks with his fellow men and protect his daughter from the predations of other guys. This changes things quite a bit; now we have to educate our young female about men. Too many men think this is a difficult thing to do, to talk about sex with their kids, but you have to do it. To neglect this task is just irresponsible. You can cite all sorts of psychobabble looking for reasons, but you have a responsibility. As a man, responsibility overrides excuses, and you have to do it. So let me tell you how I did it, and you can use these words, and add your own, or even just use it as an outline and give her a fine thesis lecture.

Let me set the scene a bit so you get a better picture. Daddy's little girl has daddy wrapped around her finger, I know it and am fine with it. I am proud of my daughter and am doing my best to raise her to be an outstanding human being. Then along came puberty and she began to realize that boys were not icky and full of germs. (I decided that demons would be suffering from frostbite before I allowed my daughter to become a victim of hormones.) So before I ended up with a pregnant teenager I took steps to intervene.

One day she needed a ride to work, so I agreed to take her as I always do, but I had an ulterior motive; I had her trapped in the car where she would have to converse with me. I had a trump card, in that if she refused to talk with me, I could refuse to deliver her to her destination. As it turned out I did not have to use the trump card, as she was very happy to have the conversation.

I started out by resolving to be point blank honest and not embarrassed or giggly about the subject of sex. I decided I would treat it as an everyday normal task, a bit like how I treat my job. This way, I would be coherent, avoiding any misunderstandings.

As we got into the car I mentioned that I needed to talk about something, and as I was backing up I could see that look from her, the infamous teenage female look of "now what?"

So I started, "I want you to know something about guys."

She immediately responded, "I know they have different parts, and I already learned all that in sex-Ed at school." She laughed it off lightly, adjusting her uniform's hat neatly over her head via her reflection through side view mirror. Carefree, nonchalant, and absolutely casual.

I continued with, "No, not the birds and bees stuff. I want you to know your underwear are in danger."

Again she rewarded me with that casual laugh of hers. Her expression showed no threat. "Oh really? What, the panty gnomes are out to get my bloomers?"

I restrained myself from rolling my eyes as I focused on the road. My fingers drummed slightly on the rubber of my steering wheel cover, as I thought on how to word my next sentence. "You need to know that every boy and man, over the age of fourteen, has one goal in life," I said, pausing for shock value. "to get between you and your underwear."

No shock value from her; she chuckled shamelessly.

"No, I'm serious! Every guy in your age group wants to have sex with you. It's not personal; it's just how guys are. You know those boys who call you? They are after your body."

"Pffftt!" She sputtered her lips, waving her hand as though to shoo away the truth. "They're just friends. All of them," she insisted, throwing me a fierce glance to demonstrate her girl power, which had no feminine influence over me.

Her glare didn't break, and I was forced a sigh. "Well, I hate to tell you this, but... They are being friendly as they are hoping that someday they will be able to talk your clothes off of you. Have you noticed there are some guys who just make gestures and remarks, others who try to talk nice, and some who even give you presents?"

It was her turn to roll her eyes. I could tell she was getting annoyed because she started fiddling with the ring on her left hand, while fingering the hem of her shirt. "Yes, Daddy-poo-poo," she said, rather disdainfully. "I got it. Avoid the dirtbags. I got it memorized." She shook her head, adding, "I've got a lot of guy-friends, dude. Trust me-they're just being my buddies."

"No, they're not. They are all after the same thing: getting between you and your underwear. Depending on their education level, they try different tactics, but it all boils down to the same goal."

She snorted. Very un-lady-like. "Whatever, dude."

If that wasn't denial, I don't know what is. "I'm sorry, but it's true. I am a guy, and when I was younger, that is what went through my brain most of the time. I have talked with other guys my whole life, and I know, beyond any doubt, guys just want sex. All guys get the urge the minute they go through puberty, they want a woman, any woman."

"Hmm... Well, in case you hadn't already noticed, I'm not a guy." Duh. That's what this talk is all about! "Besides... some of my guy-friends say they're part of the Rainbow Squad, you know; full-fledged butt-pirates."

For a minute there I had to compose myself from commenting on the inappropriate slang coming from her mouth, but I let it pass. I replied, "That's just a trick. They want you to think that you can save them from being gay by having sex with them. All guys in your age group are still searching for their sexuality. I don't know of anyone who knew they were gay when they were fourteen.

"Those boys are just trying to do the same thing as all the other boys-get into your pants. Most kids do not have parents that will talk about sex with their kids, and so those kids have to discover their sexuality on their own. The only way to do that is experimentation, and you, my lovely daughter, are the target of their intentions."

"They're just being nice, yo," She said, catching my glance with some pretty spiffy facial action. "I hang with more guys than girls, and dude! They've never said a thing about wanting to make cherry slushies with me." Just more denial.

"Exactly!" I exclaimed, griping the steering wheel as I spoke passionately. "They don't know how to discuss the subject with the opposite sex yet. They're still trying to learn how to, to find out what the great mystery is. Sure, they can read books and get a clue, but they still do not have the knowledge to get the experience they think they so desperately need."

"And that would be...?" She cocked her head in my direction, flipping her palms in the air in a sort of rolling gesture to prompt my response.

It was my turn to give her a ferocious snarl. "Sex."

Her eyes flickered with recognition, and she shut up for a second. She muttered, "Continue."

I did. "Having sex is your choice, not mine. I can't tell you to not have sex, and I can't give you permission either. Besides, I really doubt you would want me there when you decide to have sex."

"Uh-huh..." She nodded slowly. "That'd be kind'a nasty any way... but uh," she straightened her speech to be more serious-"What if I do end up finding a guy I want to make music with?"

"All I want is for you to make a reasonably informed decision, to be able to make an educated choice-not a mistake. Your generation did not discover sex, it was invented a long, long, time ago," I told her. I waited for her smart-mouth to kick, and I knew it would make the goal.

"Gee, ya think? Duh-der! Sex has been around longer than I have," she paused. "Literally."

"Yep." I ignored her comment in a professional manner. "A lot of kids your age think they are discovering sex because their parents won't talk about it, and they think their parents don't know. So, they find out about sex by having sex, and then think they know it all, just before they make a mistake and get a disease or get pregnant."

She sat there silently, letting it all simmer in that brilliant mind of hers. Her fingers fluttered around on her lap, but I knew she was thinking hard about everything said thus far.

I restarted the conversation. "I need you to follow one rule."

"Hmm?" A very simplified response.

"No rubber, no sex! Also, when you start to think your interested, let me know, and I will get you on every form of birth control known to man."

She smiled at the thought of it, as though pondering about a secret boyfriend, and deciding if she should testing me on my promise of contraceptive devices.

I knew she wouldn't dare at doing such a thing, so I elaborated, "You have too bright of a future. You want to go to college and become the next great guru; you do not need a baby. Having a baby will change your life. Do you honestly want to grow up to be a welfare mother? Not to mention you do not need any sexual diseases ruining your chance of finding a good man to spend the rest of your life with."

"Right, right," she said. "It's all fun and games until someone gets AIDS."

"None of those diseases are good, and as you know, they can mess you up bad, so you can't have children even if you wanted to, later of course. That's why I am setting that one rule for you: no rubber, no sex. However," I explained, " the best form of disease and birth control is just to keep your clothes on." I couldn't emphasize that enough, so I did it again. "Keep. Your. Clothes. On. I do understand that someday the necking may get a bit intense, and then you find yourself naked. That's why you have to have that one rule. It is to protect you, not them... A guy will put his member in darn near any hole he can get, so since you don't know where it has been make them wear a rubber."

Her face scrunched up with doubt and her brow furrowed slightly. "Nah, I don't think every guy's like that."

"Yes they are!" There we go again-me fighting a battle with my daughter's heavy case of denial. "If a guy can get your friend one night, and someone you don't know the next, then you tonight, you could easily end up with a disease. Plus, if you're not protected you could end up pregnant, and the baby would be born with the disease. Would it be fair to give life to a person that won't even live to fifth grade because you got stupid one night?"

"Nope," she replied.

The warning went on. "It all starts innocently enough. First, he wants to help you, carry your books, do your homework, and so on. Then, he wants to hold hands while walking somewhere, soon followed by asking for a hug. Once the great hug barrier is broken soon comes kissing. Probably not very good, but kissing. Very soon after that comes what used to be called, necking, or petting."

"Dad, it's called making out," she said, deadpan.

"Right, right, the heavy petting. That's the danger zone for you. Once that guy has you into the heavy petty, he twists a little bit, and soon you're having sex, which is what he has been after the whole time. Then after sex you will want a relationship, and he will want a different girl."

She got a little defensive, a little pensive, asking softly, "But what if I love them and they love me...?" She had always been a hopeless romantic. Unfortunately, life has no room for dreams like that anymore.

I filled the slight silence with more wisdom. "Ask every person you meet for the next, um... rest of the year, and I will guarantee that you will not find a single couple who fell in love at fourteen, and are still married. That is a cruel fact of life. Teenage love affairs are just crushes, not meaningful relationships, so don't screw up the rest of your life because of a hormone."

"But what if it's an older guy?" She asked, without faltering.

It's good to have a child that asks hypothetical questions. This means you can present to them their alternatives, their options, perhaps providing them with a glimpse into the future should their "What if-ry" turn to reality.

I thought about it carefully for a second, and then answered as sagely as possible. "Well, the law says seventeen months. Anybody older than that, and you're jailbait. If an older guy is actually interested in you, then he will have to wait a few years until you're eighteen. Any other case and yes, me-the cruel heartless Dad-will press charges, and put that guy in jail on your behalf. Besides, why would you want to screw up your life before you even graduate high school?"

About then we arrived at the destination and I drove around to the entrance to drop her off. The conversation went on a bit more than the fifteen minutes it took for the drive, but it got through her brain.

Nowadays I occasionally bring up the conversation again as situations arise, like when I meet a pregnant teenager, or when there is a news article about the subject. This reinforces the lesson, and a reminder now and then keeps the lesson fresh.

So far she has survived her first year of high school without becoming fodder for the hormones. By maintaining an open communication about the subject I trust she will maintain her honor, and the boys will only be able to be "friends."

PS. My daughter edited this article, so that nothing got left out and nothing extra got put in. Her pen name is "The Soup" and her link is below.