Invisible Lines

I’m not sure who to let in his room

The thing is

I don’t want to be

Like Mark

Down the street

Because he’s an asshole

And his kids hate him

Because he goes around

With all these, uh, old-fashioned

Points of view

And he says shit like--

That boy better bring my daughter home

By 10pm or I’m going to be waiting

With a shotgun on the porch

Okay, well

Fuck you, Mark

Your kids hate you
And I hate you

Because your daughter

Isn’t livestock

You loser

Um, that being said…

I also don’t want to be

Like Brian

Who’s, uh, very lenient

Very, very lenient

And so his kids

Already have their, uh,

Who they’re dating

Living with them
And the whole thing

Is very commune-ish?

Not that I have

Anything against communes

But, um, I don’t want to have one

In my house

I think there’s a balance

Between, um, Mark

You know, the facist

And Brian, the, uh, you know,

The doormat

I think there’s a middle ground

Between the moronic

And the spineless

For me, I’m trying to navigate

The middle ground

By determining

Who can and cannot
Go in my son’s bedroom

We are a very welcoming house

We love everyone

We accept everyone

But just, as a point of privilege

As a parent

I do not want my fifteen-year-old

Having sex

And I think he’d have sex

If I let him stay up in his attic room

With the door closed

And I also just don’t feel like going up there

Constantly

To check on him and whoever’s with him

Because there are a lot of stairs

And I get winded

But

I don’t want to say he can’t ever

Have people up there

Because that seems excessive

So I just want to keep the people out

He could potentially have sex with

But

The problem is

It seems like

These days

He could have sex

With virtually anyone

And if you think

I am fixated

Way too much

On my child having sex

Then you sound like my husband

And you and he can go get a drink together

And talk about how progressive you are

With Brian and all his kids who have kids

And they alllllllllllll have kids

So what I do is

I talk to my son

And I tell him

That I support him loving

Or being interested in

Whoever he’s interested in

But

I need to know

Who that is exactly

Because those are the people

Who are not allowed to be in his room

Because while I understand

That you can be attracted to someone

And not have sex with them

I have to draw the line somewhere

And being a parent

Is all about drawing invisible lines

That nobody can see but you

Because it makes you feel better

And my son looks at me

And tells me

That he’s pan

I picture a pan

I’m not kidding

In my mind

I imagine my son

As a giant pan

And then I go ‘Huh?’

And then

He explains to me

What being pansexual means

And what it means is

Not limited in who he’s sexually attracted to

Which means, uh--

I’m fucked

But then my son tells me

That he’s also an introvert

So it’s unlikely that he’d want

To have anyone in his room anyway

And that also

He’s decided to become a vegan

Because he’s an empath

And that informed the decision

And that he’s only experimenting

With pansexuality

And that he might be asexual

In which case

I’d have nothing to worry about

And could let a thousand naked people

In his bedroom

Without needing to worry

And oh by the way, he’s Slytherin

At that point, I just decided

We shouldn’t talk as much

It’s fine

I didn’t talk to my mother

For most of my teenage years

And it was fun to catch up

When I turned twenty

Invisible lines, friends
Keep drawing

Those invisible lines