"We need to talk about sex." I felt my whole body turn red. Really? Was this really happening to me now? I just stared at the floor, hoping to god that this would be brief and maybe more about talking about my newly acquired period than actual sex. Nope, I couldn't be more wrong.
"Sex is a beautiful and natural thing. Your body was made for having sex." Yep this was happening, this was my mother telling me this. She trapped me in the family room under the ruse of watching innocent cartoons, her sitting on the recliner, my trying to shrink and become one with the couch.
"The thing about sex is that it feels good and it's a lot of fun. You are far too young to be having sex but I am not stupid. Boys who look at you will not see a 10 year old and you may find yourself in a situation in which you might want to have sex. If you don't, kick him in the nuts and run, and when you get home, tell me so I can go kick him in the nuts. Make sure whoever you invite into that part of your world is worthy of it. That he loves you and puts you and your safety above anything else. But if you do, I don't want you to feel ashamed. I want you to be safe. I want you to be healthy, safe and not get pregnant. So I have started storing condoms in my bathroom in the cabinet above the toilet. Take them if you need them. I won't ask questions, I will just randomly check to see if I need to restock them. I would hope that if you do find yourself needing them, you'll come talk to me. I won't be mad, you won't be in trouble. My number one concern is always your safety." And just when I think she is done...
"Now I have put those condoms there for your safety and I expect you will use them. If you come home pregnant, I don't want you to have to worry about having a baby or having an abortion because I'll kill you. So don't get pregnant."
It was over. She got up from her recliner and went into the kitchen to start dinner. I grabbed a blanket, covering myself, feeling super dirty and uncomfortable. Embarrassed that my mom just offered me condoms and so freaked out by the idea of it all. I just wanted to find a boy who wanted to hold my hand, maybe sneak a kiss on the playground. I wanted nothing to do with anything that pee came out of. Wait, did my mom JUST say she would kill me?
Fast forward 6 years. I had been dating my boyfriend Special K (yep, any time I reference a boyfriend in this thing, I will be giving them a nickname, probably something ridiculous that makes me secretly laugh) for 6 months which in high school terms, might as well have been married. It was a bitterly cold morning in January, well that's every morning in Michigan, but on this particularly grey and awful day, I had skipped out on school because *cough, cough* I was far too sick to go to school that day, and my mom was in need of a mental health day (she was a psychologist, you better believe she viewed just wanting to veg and check out for a day as a necessity). This day was also known as, we just wanted to hang out together so we blew off school and work.
It began innocently enough, sitting in a booth in the back of Coney Island so that my mom could smoke (disgusting habit she picked up post-divorce). I am happily gorging myself on chili cheese fries for breakfast, because I am 16 and I can, not thinking twice about any alterior motives and plotting what else we could do with our day.
"So, you and Special K have been dating awhile now."
Crap.
"And I was wondering if you two have started having sex yet."
Double crap. I swallow the mouthful of what amounts to meat gravy, liquid cheese and soggy fries and manage to utter very sheepishly, "yes." At that point we had had sex. Once. A month ago. Hadn't tried again.
"Ok. Well when we get home, I am going to set you up to see the doctor and get you put on birth control. You'll have to have a full gyno exam and that is awful but we are going to make sure you are safe. I'll pay for birth control and condoms, you just make sure you are protected." Ok, not so bad. She kept it responsible and respectable. Damn, I have to see a fucking gyno who is going to poke and prod my fun parts.
"So..." It was the longest so I had ever heard in my fucking life. She leans forward, continues with the most ridiculously pervy and giddy look on her face.
".....did you like it?" Really? Really mom? You are really asking me this? Do I have to answer this? Who talks to their parents about their sex lives? Fuck. There is no getting out of this conversation, I can't get her to shut up.
"No," I respond in barely a whisper, shaking my head back and forth, probably resulting in brain damage in the exaggerated way I was doing it.
"Well, keep practicing, it gets SO much better."
And just when you think this delightful little story is done and lesson learned about open and honest communication with your child, nope, the saga continues.
After breakfast we head to Meijer as now she is on a mission to replenish the condom supply. Being 16 and with your mother, I am too mortified to even be in the vicinity of the aisle that informs the world I am letting someone plunder my fun parts, so I innocently hide in the make-up aisle, comforted by the likes of Maybelline and Cover Girl and the sweet 80 year old lady who may have fallen asleep while perusing the many shades of chapstick, while my mom conquers the condoms.
And then I hear her. Long before I see her, I hear her. Her laughing. Her pausing to catch her breath. I feel the bile rising in my throat, the sweat taking over the palms of my hands and my heart relocating to my stomach. This will not be good. This will be awful. I know it. I feel it coming.
She gasps for breath and declares for all of Meijer to hear, "Is he a magnum or a regular?" Yes, she is holding up two different boxes of condoms and shaking them in my face. "I mean, every guy thinks he's a magnum" (her now sticking the magnum box in my face, "but we all know he's a regular." She keels over at this point, laughing so hard she is crying and unable to stand upright as all civil humans should be able to. I feel the heat of embarrassment consume first my face, then spread like chicken pox down the rest of my body. I glance over at the sweet little old lady who by now has to be thinking I'm a raging teenage whore and that my mom is my pimp. This was my mother, this was how I learned to be safe and protected and make smart decisions. Somehow, despite this conversation, I learned by talking to her and being open and honest I wouldn't be a disappointment and that she would support me.
By my mother not demonizing sex, by being open and honest and talking to me about it as if I were a responsible adult, I had nothing to rebel against; nothing to hide, sneak or throw her in face and because of that I was able to make the right choices in being selective over who got to play with my fun parts. I was with Special K for 6 years and learned what it meant to express love through physical touch.
She had this approach of transparency with so many different things. She even used this approach when dealing with drugs and alcohol with me. "I am not stupid Jackie. I know when you are out with your friends there will be drinking and probably kids smoking pot and doing all kinds of stupid teenager stuff. I expect you'll want to and even might actually decide to try it yourself. Am I full on condoning this? No. But if you do, call me. Doesn't matter what time of night it is, I will come pick you up. I'd rather have you home safe than doing something stupid because you are afraid you'll get in trouble. You will never get in trouble for being responsible." Fucking mother. Gave me nothing to rebel against as a teenager. Didn't drink until I was 21 and never did a drug.
She took all the fun out of being a teenager. Thank god.
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