Sex Talks

 

Let’s be honest, we live in a society where Hardee’s sells burgers by placing a Marilyn Monroe look alike on the top of a fast car with mayonnaise dripping down her chin (which by the way I think is disgusting but after seeing the commercial come on in a bar and watching men stop mid-sentence mesmerized with mustard and wing sauce following suit on their own chins, I might be wrong) – so it’s not surprising that a kid in single digits still, might have sex on the brain.

I had the first sex talk with D two years ago.

I told him it was between two people who love each other because that made sense to him and then he said, “You and Papa love each other……ewwwwwwww.”

He wanted to know if he should just say to a girl, “ Do you want to have it?”

“Oh Crap”, I think, seeing sexual harassment suits in our near future so I told him he wouldn’t be saying anything at all about it, for a long long long time.

We talked about the medical aspect, the emotional aspect and the danger involved with not taking it seriously and being mature enough to understand all the parts of it.

He might not have understood half of what I said.

I didn’t understand half of what I said, but if he can’t talk to his mom about it then who can he talk to. And if I don’t give him information, then he could easily Google any version of the word sex and find things that seriously might scar him for life.

I’ll never forget sneaking a peek of an adult magazine at a corner store back when they weren’t kept so well hidden.  For years afterward, I was morbidly afraid of becoming a woman because not only did it look like my body parts would get freakishly big but it also looked like it would hurt along the way.

The conversation with D came about one day after we were at CVS and I saw him almost salivating over the SI swimsuit issue – his eye was trained on the girl like he had a red cross-hairs on her forehead…or…somewhere else.

When we got to the car he said, “Mom I have to ask you something and it’s really embarrassing but I need to ask anyway.”

I didn’t like the sounds of this.

“Can you buy me that magazine because, well, I like girls….a lot?”

I told him that that was no GIRL on the cover.

I told him he could not have his own copy.

I did not tell him if he perused his older brother’s room I was certain he could find a copy to borrow and maybe his dad’s; kidding, kidding; sort of.

I told him that though I was sure he liked to look at pretty girls that I would like him to think about what girls were like on the inside.

I wanted him to think about what they thought or if could they throw a football with him or tell a funny joke, could they name the fifty states, ride a skateboard or draw beautiful things.

“I get all that mama and I do want a girl who can throw and tell a joke, but I still want her to be pretty.”

Touché! I can’t blame the kid for wanting it all.

I tell Donovan that some beauty is only skin deep and then explain the phrase to him and like some parting shot he says:

“Oh, is that why Papa wanted to date you, because of the past the skin part?”

“Yeah kid, that and I can throw a pretty mean football.”