Playing With Fire

I had an Earth Two moment the other night. I was out for drinks with my co-workers after a long week, and we were regaling one another with tales of our challenges and frustrations. At one point, the lady sitting next to me started asking everyone around the table where they went to college. This quickly changed to the date we graduated. Once again, I was confronted with the generation that separates me from most of the rest of the people with whom I work. As a matter of fact, it occurred to me the young woman sitting next to me could have been my daughter.
Not because of any soap opera type subterfuge, but simply because of the math. Back in 1980, when I was a senior in high school, I chose to jump the line into the world of those without virginity. Over the next few years I experienced, along with my girlfriend at the time, a few moments of "what if?" The certainty of birth control and sexually active teenagers is an exercise in probability that confounds just about everyone, but mostly the teenagers themselves. Had any of those percentages that had been so much on our side been turned around the other way, I would be the father of a thirty-something man or woman. To say that I was unprepared for such an undertaking would be an understatement, considering the relative difficulty I am having as the parent of a fourteen-year-old. To say that I am grateful that the metaphorical bullet was dodged is yet another understatement.
But it does give me pause. First to reflect on the gray hairs that I must have given my parents while I was busy playing with fire. Second, I feel like I will be much more ready to discuss the full facts of life with my son as I consider how many lives are touched by the coupling of two enthusiastic teenagers. I wonder how things might have been different, but I'm glad for how they all turned out. That's the gift of another generation.