MY 15-year-old son had his first foray into Belfast city centre last week with friends from school. His trip would have happened earlier, but the pandemic stalled his generation's social development.
My generation, by comparison, has never recovered from an adolescence stunted by the Troubles.
For us, the city centre was off-limits due to oppressive security checks and the constant worry of bombs or clashes with kids from 't'other side'.
Our social life was defined within the confines of our 'district'. An outing involved a car drive to another 'district' of similar persuasion to our own. As I got older, this meant trips to venues in west Belfast such as the Green Briar or the Peter Pan Club on the Springfield Road, both long since gone.
Even then, dangers remained as strangers were always suspect – as I learnt one night visiting the gents at the Peter Pan. Standing at a urinal in an empty toilet, I became aware of two men joining me on either side. I was a large and raucous child, not averse to a bit of pugilistic exercise and not easily intimidated. So, when one of my new companions asked, "Who are ye, and where are ye from?", my first instinct was to enquire if he was asking me for a dance.
Thankfully, I'd the sense to look before I spoke and, with one glance, realised that unless I wanted to spend the rest of the evening in casualty, it would be best to properly introduce myself. This I did and was allowed to return to my table, unscathed.
Today, the worry for parents of children visiting Belfast isn't bombs or sectarian clashes but endemic drug use with all its attending dangers. The area north of the city centre, which Belfast City Council handed to property developers to become the proposed and ridiculously named 'Tribeca' district, exhibits a dereliction and decay even worse than during the height of the conflict.
I was relieved, therefore, when my son rang for a lift home. He'd enjoyed his outing apart from a disagreement among four of his friends who, he informed me, were in a polyamorous relationship. I'd never heard the word before and initially thought he'd mispronounced polygamous, but no; my sex education was about to be extended thanks to my 15-year-old son.
Once home, he explained that polyamorous people have multiple lovers at the same time. He even got a piece of paper and drew a web-like structure of the multitude of possible permutations of four individuals in such a relationship.
I pointed out we'd similar relationships when I was young, only then it was called cheating. My son rolled his eyes and reminded me, yet again, that we were living in the 21st century. I'm convinced his mother is coaching him.
Of course, he was right: along with a stunted social life, in my day there was no mention of sex, be it polygamous, polyamorous or platypus.
The last time I remember the subject coming up in a social setting was in the run-up to my wedding when the priest asked that we complete a psychometric questionnaire after I'd refused to do preparation classes – I was 40, for God's sake. The fact I was marrying a Protestant may have worried him.
We had to fill the questionnaire out separately and, as he led the Protestant away, she glared back at me: I had to bite down hard not to giggle. Re-united 40 minutes later, my beloved, without moving her lips, whispered, "How did you answer question 76?".
"Which one was that?", I enquired.
"The one asking if you were frightened to have seen your partner naked."
"Oh, I didn't answer any of the questions I felt were intrusive," I smugly replied.
If the priest hadn't returned at that exact moment, I may have been physically assaulted as she'd felt obliged to answer all the questions.
A week later, we sat again in the deafening silence of the parochial house as the priest revealed the results of our test, announcing with fanfare that we were psychologically compatible.
My wife occasionally brings up what she calls the 'Spanish Inquisition' as proof of her love for me. I assure her I already know this as fortunately she'd passed the 'Protestant-suitability-to-marry-a-Catholic' psychometric questionnaire.
So, if you want to discover what's new in the world of sex, sit your teenagers down and ask.
Like me, you'll probably learn a lot – but make sure you've pen and paper handy, as diagrams will be involved.
