No matter how interesting you are in your youth, we all grow boring once we have kids. You think you'll be the exception, but it's like that Talking Heads song about letting the days go by. I find myself wondering how I got here, but that song was released long before I was born. Whatever this momentum comes from the days going by, it has been part of human lives for a long time.
I often wonder what David Byrne meant when he said "Water flowing underground", though. It's clear that the song is mostly about floating along the river of life, but the 'underground' part feels different. For me, that line connects with the passion for life and searching nature that remains buried deep under the layers of playdates, increasing marital apathy, and a grinding work schedule. I think about this a little too much as I drive my preteens to their activities, in between them asking me to turn off the Talking Heads in favor of the latest Taylor Swift.
After some soul searching, I finally convinced myself I could still access the person I used to be if the right moment presented itself. It turns out I was right, but I never expected that moment to sprout from mortifying embarrassment.
And so it was that I found myself taking my kids to the community pool last summer. I would do my best to have fun, but at their age, the kids didn't want to play with me anymore. I ended up sitting poolside on my phone for two hours until they were ready to go. Feeling like I'd missed an opportunity, I took one dive into the water on the way out, so I could at least say I got wet.
This particular pool had individual unisex changing rooms, and I sent the kids to share one while I took another for myself. I used a sighing moment mid-change to mentally prepare myself for the drive home. I had been so deep in my head that I must not have locked the door, because a woman of about 25 opened it while I was standing completely nude. In the confusion and embarrassment of the moment, I saw her eyes widen in shock, then drift to my penis, which I can confidently say is pretty big -- not that I get a chance to use it. We both stood frozen for a moment before she stammered an apology and slammed the door.
I hurried into my street clothes and waited a long moment before leaving the changing room and rushing my kids towards the car. On the way out, I saw the girl again and was mortified to realize I knew her. She was my neighbor's daughter, Becca, who had moved away for college a couple of years before. She recognized me as well and blushed heavily as I averted my eyes as best I could.
I noted that she was still wearing her bikini, even though she was in the lobby past the changing rooms. If she left without changing clothes, did that mean she was headed to the front desk to report me? In today's climate, a middle-aged man can't "accidentally" forget to lock the door of his changing room. This couldn't end well.
But nobody stopped me as I loaded the kids into the car. I chanced a glance at Becca through my tinted side window as I drove away and gulped. She was absolutely stunning, but that was actually bad in this case. Women like her were constantly pestered by men, including the worst of us, so I wouldn't blame her for being jaded. Given all the bullshit she'd probably had to deal with, she was precisely the kind of girl who might call the police to chase down a 40-something pervert.
So I was terrified when I ran into Becca walking towards me on the sidewalk of our neighborhood later that week. I casually crossed the street to avoid her, but she crossed as well and walked determinedly towards me. Shit. I girded myself for a tough conversation and pretended to notice her for the first time, attempting to convey my very real embarrassment and mask my fear. Another line from the Talking Heads song flooded my mind, "And you may say to yourself, My God, what have I done?"
I was about to drop into full apology mode, but Becca jumped in before I could. "Mr Johnson", Becca said, "I'm so sorry about what happened the other day. That was such a random accident, and I never meant to barge in on you while you were changing." Relief flooded me as she continued, "I would be mortified if someone walked in on me while I was changing."
My eyes met hers momentarily, and I held up my hand. "It's okay. It was 100% my fault." Something about her deep brown eyes made me blather on in the most embarrassing way possible: "I was actually worried that you would think I left the door unlocked on purpose."
"What? Who would do that? Why would you even think of that?" she responded. I had stepped right back in it, but Becca's response was kind. "No, it could happen to anyone. Geez. No need to be so paranoid."
"Actually, I think it may have been fate. Running into you like that gave me a great idea for something I could do to increase my income. You would be the perfect person to help me out."
I was completely lost now. I tried to remember if I'd ever told Becca about my job or how I could possibly help her. Oh god, was she going to blackmail me?
Seeing my confusion, she jumped back in, "Damn, I'm probably going about this backwards. I'm sorry, this is kind of an awkward topic, and I didn't know how to bring it up. In fact, I still don't." Becca turned her head for a beat, taking in the neighborhood while she composed her thoughts. My eyes processed her appearance for the first time as she stared into the distance. A colorful tank top tightly hugged her firm, young breasts and offered no hint of a bra underneath. She wore a short, Summery skirt that showed off her tanned legs.
