It’s nearly impossible to make me uncomfortable. So don’t bother beginning your next repulsive or rowdy story with “Sorry if this is TMI, but…” or “I hope I’m not crossing any boundaries here…”
You could outline step-by-step and with acute detail your rectal surgery, and I’ll go about eating my dinner, fascinated. You could divulge with pained honesty the sexual problem your boyfriend is having and next time I saw him I’d look him in the eye and smile like I knew nothing.
I believe that I owe this, as I do most things, to my Mother, and the humiliating way in which she went about explaining “The Birds and the Bees.”
It was a sticky, late Summer night and I had recently started 4th grade. On our way home, my Mother admitted she was too tired to cook and pulled into the parking lot of our local Chili’s. To this day, I refuse to go to Chili’s as it’s too traumatic (as if the food isn’t enough reason).
I was complaining to her that Mark, one of four boys in my class, had been making fun of the fact that I wore my hair in buns, calling me “Minnie Mouse,” and that after I half-hurled a chair at him in the cafeteria I had to sit in the Principal’s office.
A few bites into my potato skins and I noticed she had a kind of sick smile on her face. The kind of smile that an investigator gets when he’s just about to interrogate an unsuspecting prisoner.
“Honey, do you know what it means to have sex?”
I chewed on the congealed cheese and prodded around for extra bacon bits to avoid the question.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
I can’t wait to have kids for the endless amusement their blissful innocence will provide me.
“It’s when people touch each other. A lot.” I put my fork down gravely and leaned in. “In inappropriate places.”
To this day it’s incredible to me that she didn’t burst out laughing right there.
“Actually sweetheart,” she said, clasping her hands, “That’s not right.”
And thus, by the neon lighting of Chili’s, she explained an in-explicit but step-by-step guide to intercourse.
As we walked out, her arm around my shoulder, I knew I would never be the same. My stomach churned, and how was I to tell if it was the loaded potato skins or the knowledge I’d just gained?
No dis-respect to my Mother- I’m sure she had a good reason to engage in such a life-altering conversation where and when she did. I recently asked her about it.
“Were you just bored that night and figured you could get a few laughs?”
She sighed. “I could have sat you down on our couch at home, turned off the television, and explained things to you with a video or a pamphlet or some ridiculous thing. It just felt so formal and uncomfortable. I figured if we had that conversation in public, in a Chili’s off I-84, over greasy appetizers, you’d be able to talk about sex wherever, whenever.”
A regular Dr. Ruth.
so awkward, but so funny. My friend used to grab the butts of the most awkward boy we knew until they stopped blushing… oh how desensitized we can become. lol
It takes a lot to make me choke on my lunch but you did. Congrats. That was awesome. If I had your mother I would have opted for the video. But I’m a guy so that’s to be expected.
Funny! I have the same characteristic that I attribute to the same source! I love that my super Catholic, doesn’t-hang-with-anyone-other-than-Jesus, Mom talked to me of sex and sexuality and sexual experience in such a straightforward and academic way!
- However,it is way tougher to know how to take my often naive 11-year old son talking to me about condoms and my sex-life in the same manner!
You mean it’s not touching people in inappropriate places?!!!
Good post.
Rob.