Me: Good morning, son. Pop quiz. What constitutes consent?
Son: A clear, unambiguous yes.
Me: What does unambiguous mean?
Son: Loud and clear with no fudging.
Me: Good. Do you know why I am asking you this?
Son: Because of that scene in Pirate Radio?
Me: (Blinks a minute, because my mind was on the Stubenville case, not the movie we watched where there was a scene where a young man was encouraged to switch with a guy who the girl HAD consented to in pitch dark. I made it clear that was NOT consent) No, I was asking because some high school students raped a girl who was passed out drunk, got convicted and there was some idiotic sympathy for them because they claimed not to know what rape is.
Son: I get it. Look her in the eye and ask if she wants to.
Me: Good. What if she wants to and you’re not into it? What do you do?
Son: Say no. Get out of the situation if pushed.
Me: Rock. You’ve got it. What if she’s drunk?
Son: She can’t consent.
Me: What if she’s twelve?
Son: Ew! Of course she can’t consent!
Me: What if she’s sixteen (my son is almost eighteen).
Son: (spotting a trick question) Uh, she can consent?
Me: Morally? Most likely. But legally? Depends on the jurisdiction after you turn eighteen. In ours, it’s 16. In your grandparents state, it’s 18. ‘Course you can do an end run around that after you turn eighteen and only date legal adults.
Society: But teaching about consent is HARRRD. You don’t UNDERSTAAANNNDD.
Me: Lying jerks.
*Based on an actual conversation I had with my son this morning. (Gender choices are based on the fact my son does play the game on the easiest setting).