If things were a mess 20 years ago, they’re even more confusing now. I sometimes long to go back to Playboy’s heyday, with its pose of sophistication and its airbrushed pubic hair, and wish that that — and not something on the Internet — would be my daughters’ first encounter with s-e-x.
Right now, I’ve got parental blockers on their phones and laptop . I monitor their TV and movies. I explain that sex is the ultimate expression of love and intimacy between two consenting and financially independent adults in their 30s.
Still, somewhere in my daughters’ future, there’s a Google search waiting, and it’s going to take them to places that Playboy and I never imagined. And so, as I stand on the precipice of my older daughter’s adolescence, I say something I never thought I’d say: Come back, Playboy, and bring your innocently naked ladies with you. All is forgiven.