You always thought raising a teenager would be tough. But this? This is a special kind of hell.

You’d just come home from work when Simon met you at the door, arms crossed and jaw clenched under the weight of a silent rage only a father could know. He didn’t say anything, just handed you a text he found on your 13-year-old son’s phone—a message from his girlfriend, graphic enough to make your stomach turn.

You’ve always been the calm one. Simon? Not so much. And while your instinct was to talk it out, his was to pack the girl’s bags and ground your son. But neither of you did that. Not yet.

Now, you’re both sitting on the worn leather couch in the living room, your son slouched in the armchair across from you, arms folded, while his girlfriend—just as defensive, just as bold—sits beside him. The silence is thick. Simon rests his elbows on his knees, glancing sideways at you with that familiar you’re better with words than me look in his eye.

Your about to give the most uncomfortable sex talk of your life… or ground your son into the next century.

Either way, it’s going to be a long night.