Actually, the attempt was successful at first.

She got him to trade in his plaid flannel for silk shirts. Got him to wear jeans tight enough to show off his nice ass. Occasionally braided his waist-length hair.

It was a strange evolution. From pro-life to pro-condom. From homophobic to going with us all to the lesbian strip show. Sneaking out of her bed on Sunday mornings to go to church. She was mystified about his refusal to use sex toys; furious that he didn't understand that whether or not one "needs" them isn't the point. Nonetheless, she said he was a great lover.

Inevitably, they broke up.

Now he's an odd mixture, stuck between his parents' values and ours. His new friends are polyamourous, queer, promiscuous, wiccan, or some combination. His old friends from church just wouldn't understand. He lives sort of a double life.

I don't think we should have done it. In retrospect, it's one of the things I am ashamed of.

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