So someone asked on Reddit about any good stories about getting “the talk” from their parents. I don’t actually recall any of the actual “ha ha, babies come from the vagina” discussions — although I do remember asking what a period was after reading Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret. Ooh, and what it meant when boys “got hard” after reading Then Again, Maybe I Won’t. Thank you, Judy Blume, for prompting all sorts of interesting conversations. Although I tell you, reading all about periods when you haven’t the SLIGHTEST IDEA what a period is is weeeeird. Especially when it’s rather dated and they talk about belts and hooks. Belts and hooks? Man, this shit is voodoo.
Unfortunately, once I actually hit puberty and was DEALING with all of this stuff, my willingness to talk about anything to do with sex completely stopped. Way to go, teenage brain. I really wish I knew how cool my mother was about that sort of thing, but I was just entirely too horrified by the idea of talking to my mother about sex.
I remember two instances specifically: Once, I was about 15 and not fully “active”, but was definitely experimenting (yay, blowjobs are fun!) She trapped me in the car and asked me if I was having orgasms. Because orgasms are awesome. But can be difficult — lots of girls don’t know how to have orgasms. Especially if their boyfriends are also 15 and inexperienced.
And if I didn’t feel like having sex, I didn’t have to — mutual masturbation is a great way to be intimate with your partner without having full on intercourse. Admittedly, great advice, but JESUS CHRIST MOM I DON’T CARE IF WE’RE GOING 80KPH I WANT OUT OF THIS CAR IMMEDIATELY YES WHATEVER ORGASMS WOO. (Sadly, I wish I’d paid attention — no, I was most certainly NOT having orgasms. Not for another 6 years. Sigh.)
The second was about a year later. I was 16, and dating a guy entirely too old for me. Mom was a bus driver at the time — this is relevant to the story.
So, despite having terrible taste in boyfriends way too old for me, I was at least smart enough to go on the pill, but again with the horror of actually telling my mother, so I just made the appointment myself and the boyfriend drove me. He was way too embarrassed to actually come in with me, so he waited outside in his truck. (Ha ha, that’ll teach you!)
Unexpectedly, he hears a “knock knock knock” on his window, and holy shit, it’s MY MOTHER. She smiles at him, and says “So… is she in there for what I think she is?” he stutters out some “uh I don’t know I just drove” bullshit excuse, to which my mother lets him know that she was not in fact born yesterday, and to pass on the message that “she knows”.
As it turns out, across the street from my doctors office was where the bus she was driving that day had break time, she happened to glance across the street and see him parked there. In front of my doctors office. I ABSOLUTELY DID NOT believe him. Seriously, what are the chances? No way. No fucking way.
…and then he described her sunglasses…
This was the mid-90s, and my mother wore a pair of particularly great bright blue sunglasses that would have been a bit more trendy in the 80s. There was no way my boyfriend would have ever seen her sunglasses before. And they were WAY too unique to be a guess.
OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK.
She didn’t get home until about 7 that night. I was shitting bricks for about 4 hours. I was entirely certain that I was going to be locked up for the rest of my natural born life or possibly shot on sight.
As it turns out, my mother was STILL way cooler than I ever gave her credit for, and all she did when she got home from work that night was to laugh hysterically at my complete and utter traumatized horror that MOM KNEW. Admittedly, she DID word her message in a way to put All The Fear into me, but it seems that my mother was a master troll even in ’96…