Friends and frenemies have mentioned at some point during my years knowing them that I can be a bit of a pervert. It’s often said with affection, so it never worries me. It occurred to me that it’s even kind of fun. Who doesn’t like to have a little perverted side to share with close friends or people you pretend to like once in a while? It didn’t occur to me, however, to wonder where this side came from. Until today. Well, yesterday when I wrote this.
One need only look back at my childhood to get the answer I need that nobody else asked for or wondered about, except sarcastically. I’m pretty sure is started with holidays.
My parents sneaked into my bedroom one Christmas Eve back in 1977 or so after I went to bed, took down the curtains from the two windows, and removed the bedspread and top sheet. They replaced them with a Super Friends theme set. Pretty cool, huh? I woke up thinking Santa had surrounded me with super heroes who I watched every Saturday morning without fail.
In retrospect, I should have been deeply troubled. A jolly old married perverted fat man with no fashion sense in the same red suit he’d worn for hundreds of years who lived too far away to sue entered my room without permission, changed things around, could have seen me in my underwear, took some illicit pictures that might show up on the internet when it’s created twenty years down the road, and all without my input on lighting or pose. And he knows where all the naughty boys live.
That, dear friends, is cause to worry, but it gets worse…and not just because I was one of those naughty boys.
The whole Santa thing now begs the question of my apparent compliance with the Tooth Fairy. Some chick is leaving me money under my pillow? For what? A peep show? Did Santa give her a call and suggest she peek under the sheets while I’m sleeping too? Did she take some pictures for her private collection that would one day get confiscated when international authorities break into her mansion and discover the hidden porn den?
It’s some scary shit, people!
And what about the Easter Bunny? Was I already being introduced to furry fandom at an early age? You know Santa started the crap with sitting on his lap, so what’s to stop someone in a bunny costume from not following his fine example? Go find the hidden eggs indeed!
So, yes, a few people have remarked in jest over the years that I might be a bit of a pervert. Can you blame me? Look at what I was dealing with during my childhood! The sad part, I realize while finishing this up, is that some people must never have been visited by old pervy Santa, dominatrix Tooth Fairy, or a depraved giant floppy Easter Bunny when they were young.
Gotta say, they missed out.
How about you? Any stories to share, or did you not get visited while you were sleeping?