I was standing there, third aisle from the action; cat food.

Two young girls stood in the center aisle, talking, not hushed tones, old ladies jostled past them.

“He went into me up to his second knuckle!” one girl said, nodding, as if this was the best part of her life, her boyfriend finger banging her in his mom’s bed room.

“Jimmy says he wants our first time to be special, Super 8 and everything,” the other girl says, as if in competition, she’s no slut; she’s waiting for a commitment ring or a life saver.

Or free waffles before 10 am!

“I’m saving myself for marriage!” the other smiles, nodding.

“How far have you gone?”

“He’s put it in my butt, and my mouth, but I said no in my pussy…”

Yeah, you tell him sister! You can put it in my ass and mouth or vice versa, but until I get a ring on my finger…

“These kids today!” an old woman says to me as she passed by to pick up some kitty treats, “In my day, we didn’t even get in their jalopy till AFTER the wedding! And even then, we kept our hands in our lap!”

I nodded.

Back in my day, I touched myself quite a bit, but I was very gentlemanly about it, got myself a napkin to clean up afterward, and bought myself dinner and maybe a movie.

Course, back in my day, we had like thirteen channels that was cable, one of those channels was the channel telling you what the other channels were, and when we invited girls over to the house, our parents would freak, thanking the lord their son wasn't gay and maybe, just maybe they might be grandparents someday.

Different times, different strokes.

We listened to Bon Jovi and made out.

Well, I didn’t, my friends did.

“Jason, you’ll never guess who I banged last night!”

“Your sister!”

“Shaddup!”

I was down in my parent’s rec room playing my Atari and drinking grape Shasta.

The good life, nothing on but the radio, and pants, and maybe a shirt.

Shoes sometimes, but only to keep my feet comfy.

A few friends would sneak away, coming down there, to play Atari, they might bring beer.

Well, near beer.

Few of those friends are now dead.

Few of those friends are now parents.

They send me pictures of their kids.

“Sarah is an academic genius!”

She flunked English though.

“Mark is an athletic giant!”

He failed to make third string football team.

“Judy’s pregnant!”

Awesome Ted, you’re going to be a grandparent.

“She’s 13!”

And a young grandparent too!

“Hank’s in prison for armed robbery!”

It makes me wish I was a parent.

(No, not really!)