Dinner at Stephanie and Amir's

We had dinner at Stephanie and Amir's tonight. True and Harley were there, and Nicole and her husband or boyfriend, whose name I can't remember.

By the time you read this, Stephanie and Amir will probably be living full-time in Europe. That's because Amir is Iranian and as I write this, our government is doing everything it can to villify Iran. We'll probably invade Iran in the next few years, in order to "bring democracy" to the country, and Amir will have to face the reality that his adopted country has decided to obliterate the country of his birth.

They already live in Europe. They got a place in Florence and then Amir took a job with a firm in Germany, so now they have a place there, too. Plus the three or so places they have in L.A. They have quite a real estate empire.

It's funny talking to them. I think they think we're doing much better than we are. Then again, I think just about everybody thinks we're doing better than we are. Or maybe we're doing better than we think we are. Who knows?

True and Harley are trying to rent out their house. They want to rent a cheaper place for themselves and pocket the difference. It's smart. Their place is spectacular, and they did a beautiful job renovating it. But there are a lot of stairs to navigate and with Guinness to carry around (he's almost one), it makes sense for them to think about making things a little easier.

The evening kind of turned into a celebration of you. Everybody was excited and happy to hear that you're coming. They even put a candle on the cake and sang.

Then the conversation turned to 12-year-old kids having unprotected oral sex down at the beach.

Hoo boy.

Sudenly, I can see the future.

I know what's going to happen. You're going to do things that I don't want you to do, and when I tell you that I don't want you to do them, you're going to think that I'm old fashioned. You won't believe that I could possibly understand what's going on in your mind. You'll think that you're old enough to take care of yourself and that I don't trust you to make the right decisions.

And you'll be close.

Here's the reality--and I want you to remember that I'm writing this before you're even born: I want you to have a happy, fulfilling life. I want you to make your own desicions, and I want you to make the best possible decisions. I worry about you. Partly because no matter how old you are, I'm older, which means that I've been where you are and I know stuff that you don't know yet. And partly because no matter how much you mean to do what's right, there are lots of other factors that conspire to make you do what's wrong--from hormones to peer pressure to a feeling of invicibility that you can't help but have. And when I use the words 'right' and 'wrong', I don't mean morally or ethically, but in the most self-interested way. I mean what will give you the best opportunity for a long, happy, fulfilling life.

That doesn't mean you don't get to have fun. You do get to have fun. All the fun you can handle, as long as you take full responsibility for your actions, don't hurt yourself or others, and don't do anything permanent that you might regret--which includes stuff like pregnancy, self-mutilation, debilitating diseases, and massive humiliation.

I do understand what you're going through because I went through it myself. Everybody does. And I know how hard it can be to be your age and I remember how powerful urges and desires can be.

If you're reading this after we have an argument about what you want to do and whether I'll let you do it, I want you to do me a favor. Okay, two favors:

1) Try to think of the worst possible outcome if you do what you want to do. Not the most likely bad thing, but the worst possible thing. It probably involves you ending up being dead. That's what I think of.

2) Tell me the worst possible outcome if you don't do what you want to do. You already know what it is, but I probably don't realize how important it is to you. You need to communicate that to me.

Chances are, you won't get me to change my mind. But you might.