Why we don't need to teach acceptance to children ...

Now, before I get lots of angry messages, comments and tweets about how it's important for children to be accepting, I'm going to stop you right there. How about you read all the way through this piece before forming an angry lynch mob?

Children don't need to be taught acceptance. Children are already pretty much accepting of everyone. It's their nature. Children are trusting and accepting of just about everyone they meet. They don't need us to teach them about acceptance or how to be accepting. They get it.

It's us. It's all of us. It's the adults who need to be taught.

My son has Autism. Not very severe. If you met him, you might not realise right away. His best friend has Down Syndrome. They accept each other. No questions asked. They both go to a mainstream school. They are in a mainstream class. They are accepted by their friends at school. They are accepted by other students who are not necessarily in their immediate circle.

These children are perfectly accepting. This isn't to say that they don't notice differences. They do. They comment on them. It's what's kids do. They have no filter. All parents would have had that awkward moment when they wanted the ground to open up because their child has said something like, "Why is that man so fat?" or "Gee, that lady's black!" It's not because they are being mean or discriminatory. It's because they are curious about the world. It is not because they are intolerant.

It's adults that add the layer of intolerance to their curiosity. It's adults that say the man is fat because he's lazy or doesn't eat right or can't be bothered exercising. It's adults that tell their children they don't associate with people of colour.

And by adults, I mean all adults. Parents, other relatives, family friends, parents of other children, the media, teachers, sports instructors, nannies, babysitters, everyone.

Society allows intolerance to continue and to grow. Every single one of us need to step up and stay that enough is enough. Intolerance will not be accepted.

Homophobia ... gone.

Sexism ... gone.

Racism ... gone.

Disability discrimination ... gone.

Ageism ... gone

Imagine what that society would be like. Don't worry, I'm not going to be doing any John Lennon impersonations. Really, think about it, though. Imagine going for a job and not having to hide your sexuality. Imagine men and women getting the same wage. Imagine not having to put up with racial stereotyping. Imagine not having to worry about re-entering the workforce because your age means you won't even get a look in. Imagine your disability being something you have, rather than something your suffer from.

Currently, yes, education is the answer. Teaching people that it's not OK to discriminate against people because of what they are is a great thing. But imagine not having to do that at all because everyone was accepted and accepting. Imagine them being that way because no-one had taught them that different is bad.

Utopia? Perhaps ... but just imagine!

Frustrated and jealous but not unhappy

Sometimes I don't understand people. Well, maybe not sometimes. Maybe all the time.

How is it that you can be perfectly happy with 99% of your life:

- happy with your job

- happy with your hobbies

- happy with your child

- happy with your parents

But there's one thing you're not happy with:

- the lack of a romantic relationship.

It's not for a want of one. It's not for a lack of interest on my part. I just don't seem to be able to attract suitable partners. I've written about this previously. I won't bore you with the details. This isn't about my lack of a partner as such. It's more about other peoples reactions to my voicing my dissatisfaction with my lack of a partner.

There are a few standard reactions:

1. There's someone out there for everyone ...

Really? Even if it's true, will they reveal themselves to me before I am unable to have children? It's all very well saying there's someone for everyone but if I have to wait until I am 50 years old to meet them, how does that help me? How does that fulfil my desire to have a family?

2. Stop looking. They'll show up when you least expect it.

I look. I don't look. It makes no difference. In the end, I have given up looking. I may lament the fact I have no partner, no father to any children I might desire, but I have given up the search. So telling me to stop looking is pointless. As for showing up when I least expect it ... I never expect it so anytime is good, really.

3. You don't need a man to make you happy.

No, I don't NEED a man. I'd like one, though. I am perfectly happy with what I have. This doesn't mean I don't want more. It's like being happy in your job but wanting a promotion - you don't need the promotion to make you happy but you'd like one because it's more money, or a nicer desk, or a little more responsibility. Why can I not be happy with what I have and still desire something more? Is happiness now a finite resource?

4. You have a child.

This one bites the hardest. I hate it with every fibre of my being. I love my son but it's not the same type of love that I would have for a partner. Having a child is wonderful and I would not give it up for the world but having a child does not fill that small void.

I don't know. I guess people are trying to help. I think they don't know what to say and are just saying whatever inane thing comes into their head to try to make my feel better. I don't need someone else's false platitudes to make me feel better, though. I need to vent. I need to yell and scream and vociferate!

I recently had to take a break from social media for a few days due to the overwhelming desire to throw things at the screen. It was frustration and jealousy at play. Frustration at my own inability to maintain any sort of romantic relationship due to poor choices both in the men I subjected myself to and my own failings as a partner (not being self depreciating, just realistic). Jealousy at all the happy smiling people, many of whom I've known since childhood, who have succeeded where I have failed.

Maybe my standards are too high.

Maybe I don't put myself out there enough, or in the right places.

Maybe I'm not meant to be with someone right now.

Whatever the reason, it sucks. It really sucks and I hate it. But it doesn't mean I shouldn't desire that which I don't have and it certainly doesn't mean I'm unhappy.