Pubes ‘n’ porn
At some point during our candid conversation about STIs, my teenage boys and I formed a pretend alt-rock band called Big J and the Burning Sensations.
My oldest son turns thirteen in a couple months and is starting to pube out pretty hard. We’ve had a running dialogue about puberty, bodies, and selves since last summer when I noticed short and curlies in the shower drain that definitely didn’t belong to me.
Like me at that age, he hasn’t shown much interest in romance yet. But when I was a middle-schooler attending hood schools, I had several classmates who were already parents. So while I wasn’t exactly eager to talk about the birds and the bees, I also wasn’t about to abdicate my duties as a dad.
At first, I couldn’t even say the word “penis” without him getting red in the face and disengaging. We’re way past that now. Since he loves to read, I sent him a couple links—like a KidsHealth puberty page—and told him we’d go on a walk and talk so I could ask questions about what he learned. That structure helped us both open up.
So far we’ve covered physical changes during puberty, hormones and emotional regulation, and the basics of reproduction. Last weekend’s session was a Very Special Episode devoted entirely to the penis—also known as Penis Problems.
My SO Jodi’s son, also thirteen and pubing out like a young forest, joined us.
I shared that when I was their age, the only adult advice I remember getting about sex was something like:
“Don’t get bunz until you’re married—but if you do, wear a condom.”
What they didn’t tell me was how to use one, or that strapping up can feel uncomfortable and reduce sensation. Which leads to a subtle lesson:
If sex feels incomplete without rawness, perhaps your spirit isn’t ready for it.
We didn’t get into the pitfalls of pullout game, whiskey dick, or other advanced electives. That’s upper-division coursework.
We did cover the Big Three of non-lethal sexually transmitted infections: herpes, gonorrhea, and genital warts (oh my!). We talked symptoms, treatment, and why “waiting” is less about morality and more about protecting your mind, body, and spirit.
The boys both winced and grabbed their groins when I mentioned that a classic STI symptom is a burning sensation when you urinate. We all burst into laughter, then formed a pretend alt-rock band, Big J and the Burning Sensations.
I asked if they wanted me to find images of infected genitalia on my phone. They declined emphatically.
Then it hit me: when I was their age, the raciest images I had access to were in the underwear section of my momma’s Sears catalogue, while they have the entire internet in their pockets.
So I asked if they watched porn. They both denied it—though with less urgency than they declined my invitaton to the herpes slideshow. Then they flipped the question on me.
I told them the truth: I used to watch porn all the time to the extent I may have developed a mild addiction. But I don’t do that anymore.
I explained that while I once found it harmless, over time I noticed that it degraded the quality of my consciousness. I treated women worse when I consumed it, and Jodi even noticed a negative shift in our intimacy.
I also explained that the porn industry often exploits workers—many of whom come from trauma, poverty, addiction, or abusive backgrounds—and that participating in that ecosystem has spiritual consequences, as the universe keeps receipts.
This is heavy stuff for anyone, especially teenage boys, so I wrapped up before I lost them.
I closed by telling them that while physical infections are nasty, burning sensations are only the tip of the STI iceberg. The biggest burns come from the spiritual infections we can catch from our intimate partners.
Next session, we’ll delve deeper into what I call STIs of the mind.
