Now that every one is familiar with the perils of public transportation, namely rectangular, yellow machines of mayhem also referred to as school buses, I will share my tale of carnal knowledge. Every kid had that friend growing up who knew just a little too much about the adult world and its dark underbelly. Think back to that kid in your class who never showered, already had a stint at juvie under his or her belt, and started smoking cigarettes by second grade. This is usually the same person who shattered your childhood hopes and dreams with a conversation that went a little something like this:
You, as a child: “I can't wait for Christmas, Santa's going to bring me so many presents!”
Friend: “You know that Santa isn't real, right?
You, the sound of your heart audibly shattering: “Wha-, what?”
Friend: “Yeah, and neither is the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, or Cinderella. And your parents will probably get divorced soon. Got a light?”
No matter how many times this friend crushed your spirit, he or she provided an invaluable service—the kid had no qualms about answering questions that you were too scared to ask your parents, most of which revolved around sex. When the topic of sex came up in my family, it was explained as something that a man and woman did only within the strict confines of marriage, and only to perpetuate the species. Or, it was mentioned in the Bible as something that a man did to a family member (although sneakily referred to as some verb tense of “know,” as in, “Adam knew Eve,”). Said man usually realized he made a mistake and ended up gouging out his eyeballs in penance (I may have mixed some Oedipal issues in there).
In any event, at some point during elementary school, I realized my knowledge of the birds and the bees was sub par. You see, up until 3rd or 4th grade, I believed everything my sister, Joy, said was true. This delicate foundation of trust was steadily chipped away as I realized: a) Joy was an inordinately manipulative child, b) shiny pennies were not worth more than crusty dollars and should not be traded with anyone, and c) it was not normal to pay your older sister a dollar an hour to play Barbies with you. Prior to my rude awakening, Joy, in her infinite eleven-year-old knowledge, casually informed me that women could get pregnant from kissing men. You can imagine my shock and awe as I saw men kissing, nay impregnating, women everywhere! I naturally wondered why people would engage in such risky behavior…publicly! Why were people not more careful when it came to family planning? No wonder Phil and Syl had 4 kids so haphazardly!
In order to get a straight answer, I met up with my worldly friend, Courtney Parley* on the bus. I knew she would indulge my request for the truth and wouldn't sugarcoat the facts. This information came at a price, however. I would be seen sitting and chatting with a known misfit: someone who was on the first name basis with the school principal, someone who cared little for proper behavior or hygiene (she got sent home from school at least once a month for having lice). In exchange for one of my favorite Barbie dolls (given at arm's length), I was given the answer: sex was not when a boy and girl kissed (stupid Joy), but when said boy and girl hugged each other for a REALLY long time. Finally! Answers! It made complete sense to me. I never saw many people hug for a long time, and when you're married you have all the time in the world to hug someone and make a baby. I wasn't sure if a couple had to hug for hours or months, but I remember coming to the conclusion that honeymoons usually last for a week, so that must be the time it took to make a baby. Long-term hugging seemed exhausting, and I wanted no part of it. When do you sleep? Go to the bathroom? I felt so liberated the day I finally quenched my thirst for information, and I had the added benefit of knowing something that even my older sister was not privy to. I kept that secret for about 2 more years until I realized, once again, I had been slightly misinformed about the baby-making process.
Today’s lesson: tell your children pregnancy occurs after prolonged physical contact with the opposite sex. This is not necessarily a lie. The key is to make it sound like it takes hours, or days, even, to make a baby. Make it sound like a horrible, tedious, and boring process (again, not always a lie). Of course, there will be the Courtney Parleys of the world who will assume that short bursts of sexual interaction are a sufficient means of birth control, but let’s face it: these girls are gonna get knocked up no matter what you say. For the remaining risk-averse kids, this story will keep you from becoming a grandparent for at least two additional years. You’re welcome, parent-readers!
*Name has been changed to protect the guilty, who is currently serving 20-to-life in a women's state penitentiary.
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