The Male Nanny

Male nanny to the British upper-class

Never

  I put the 5 year old to bed and head downstairs. I am clearing the table when I hear her calling. I give it ten shouts, then head up. As I make my way through the floors, it becomes clear it is the 14 year old calling, not the 5 year old.

I go into her room. She is lying on her bed, staring at her laptop. It is her favourite pose. I am in there for no more than 3 minutes. I present to you a gift: A transcript of our conversation.

 

Me:         “Are you calling me?”

14 YO:   “Yeah, come in, talk to me”.

Me:         “Okay. What are you doing?”

14 YO:   “Looking at the guy I got off with on Facebook. Come have a look”.

Me:         “Okay”.

14 YO:   “He’s hot isn’t he?”

Me:         “Yeah he’s quite handsome”.

14 YO:   “You are such a fag”.

 

14 YO:   “Want to see the girl everyone fancies in our school?”

Me:         “Sure”.

14 YO:   “She’s hot isn’t she?”

Me:         “She’s pretty”.

14 YO:   “You are such a paedo”.

 

14 YO:     “Want to see the girl who sucked off two guys in one night?”

Me:          “Sure”.

14 YO:    ”Would you let her give you a blow job?”

Me:         “No, she’s 13”.

14 YO:   “You are such a loser”.

 

14 YO:   “Want to see my ex-boyfriend?”

Me:         “Okay”.

14  YO:  ”He’s ugly isnt he?”

Me:         “Yeah he is”.

14 YO:   “Shut up. When will you accept my friend request on Facebook?”

Me:         “Never”.

14 YO:   “Go away”.

 

I feel we have a connection.

The Male Nanny.

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