One item that I have made sure never to share with my boys are the names of any past girlfriends.  You see, I know what they would do with this information.  They would tease me.  Annoy me.  Bother me.  Nope, no need to share.

The other day, they asked me again.  “Dad, what are the names of your old girlfriends?”

“I’m not telling you that,” the answer they have heard consistently a hundred times.

“Well, I bet they hate you.”  Ouch.  Harsh.  Somewhat wrong.

I corrected them, “Not all of them hate me.”

Now scrambling for ammunition, “Well, I bet mom hates them.”

Giving a clever glance, I leveled the final blow, “Why would mom hate them?  She ended up with the prize.”

Their eyes looked blank.  They had no clue what I meant.  No comprehension that maybe, at some point, way back when, their dad was desirable in any way, shape, or form.

Humph, I’ll show them.  Remind me to embarrass them in front of their future love interests.  My boys now officially deserve it.