The Boyscout

I had the occasion to take a short drive with a young het boy of twenty after we had finished a day of work I had hired him for. Bumping along over the dusty road home, I asked him if he had a girlfriend. “Not anyone steady. I’m still shopping, but there is this one girl I’ve been thinking about…,“ his voice trailed off.

Then, out of the blue, he said to me, “I heard that men think of sex every five seconds or every ten seconds. Why is that?” “Well,” I responded carefully, “Probably, women think about it just as much as guys do, only no one asks us!” I laughed and added, “And I guess the schools don’t teach about such things!!” We raised a small cloud that added an infinite number of new dust particles to the burden of the sun-baked brush as we bounced in the direction of the paved road.

“The schools!!” He laughed and then scoffed, “The schools don’t teach anything. I had to figure out on my own that I should find a girl who likes to do the same things I like.” A daredevil bird rode the air current across the hood of my vehicle.

“That’s one part of it, to be sure,” I replied. I hesitated a moment and deliberated the merits of continuing the conversation as I corrected to navigate a deep rut where a seasonal stream cut across the road: but I soon gave in to the impulse to add, “It is also important to understand if you are a top or bottom.”

“What does that mean?” he asked. “Simple,” I responded, “it refers to whether a person prefers to be the giver or the receiver. Some like to do the giving, some like the receiving and some like to switch off.” I could see the paved road ahead. A branch rubbed against the side of the car emitting a final screech that made us recoil like someone had pressed too hard on the chalk as it ran down a chalkboard.

My passenger thought a few minutes in silence and as we neared our destination and again left the paved road, he said, “I like to be the giver. I sat quietly. He thought another moment and then added with the sincere bright earnestness of unsullied youthful enthusiasm, “But I’m not the selfish kind of giver, understand. For me, it’s kind of like helping someone across the street, once they are across, up on the curb, and safe, then it is your turn to cross the street, too. I think that’s a good way to do things!!”

The car rolled to a stop in a puff of dust and we said goodbye. He jumped into his car and drove away with his earnest young face shining brightly. I think he will do just fine…