For me it was basic training in the Army that started me on my merry way.
I have no idea but I remember when my youngest son was about 20 months ? old and he explained to me about using bad words, so to quote him.
“don’t say fuck daddy, fuck is a very bad word and you will get in trouble if you say fuck OK”
It was like he was trying to cram in as many f words as possible, still makes me laugh 13 years on.
I informed my mother what our school called the kids of the neighbouring school, and what they called us.
I had no idea what such bad words they were. My brother had to enlighten me. They were really really bad.
I think I was 7.
I was five. I said shit. I’d heard it from my parents who in their youth both swore like stevedores. I think mom said that I wasn’t old enough to say that yet. Like crossing the street by myself.
Fast-forward about 30 years. My adorable 3-year-old nephew is “helping” his dad work on his truck. He drops his little plastic hammer and says “SHIT!” My dad and I had to leave so we didn’t ruin the correction moment with our laughter.
My dad told me he whipped my ass so many times because of my cussing that he finally gave up and said “Screw it! I guess the boy wants to be a cusser.”
I’m not sure how young I was but I remember riding on my Big Wheel cussing out the neighborhood kids.
I used my first “Dammit” around 2 1/2 to 3 years of age when I watched my parents try to get a couple young and energetic cats into the cat carrier. They could get one in but as soon as they tried to put the second one into the carrier the first would escape. This happened over and over so there was a lot of swearing and I learned some new words.
I took great joy in telling people the story, complete with the new words, but I usually stopped when my parents said “That’s enough.”