This is the parental control warning: If you do not wish to read about sex, or lack thereof, or stupid ideas that teenagers have about sex, then this post is not for you. I know this will embarrass my first-born. Maybe he is either too old to be truly scarred or his anonymity is still mostly intact.
Our first-born son was a beautiful baby. People called him a girl all the time. He has beautiful dark brown eyes that the pupils get lost in and the best head of hair on any male in the world. When we were leaving the hospital, and he was all decked out in blue, a lady stopped me and told me how pretty that little girl was. Seriously, who takes their newborn baby girl home in blue? Later on, we were at a restaurant having dinner, and he had on his cowboy hat, boots, jeans, and belt with his name on it, and still an older couple came and told us how pretty that little girl was.
Anyway, as he became a teen, the girls liked him. He was preppy in a small town with mostly cowboys. I guess it was something different, because they just loved him, and he tried to love all of them back.
One homecoming when he was a freshman in high school, a girl older than he (I believe she was a junior so we were looking at 14-year-old and 17-year-old.) asked him to homecoming. They were to double date with another couple since he couldn’t even drive. He was very excited, but I’m telling you the girl looked 25 years old.
Of course, the Mr. was secretly proud while I said absolutely not gonna happen. He begged and pleaded until finally the Mr. decided to take up his cause. I finally agreed with the condition we sit down and have a “talk” with him before he went.
I hope you are ready for this. Stop reading here if you are of the faint of heart. We told him that he must sit down with us and “talk” before he could go. He reluctantly agreed, but was willing to sacrifice an appendage to go.
We began to have a pleasant conversation about how to treat your date and what we expected of him as a grown man around women. We finally got to some very deep discussions that began with me asking, “What are you going to do if you two are in the backseat, and she says yes?” He replied in a very serious tone, “Mom, I’m going to say yes.” Trying not to panic and wanting to handle this in my most sophisticated manner, I quizzed him further. “What will you use for protection if that happens?” And then the answer that would make any mother secure in letting her child go out into the world. “I”ll take a towel.” “A towel?” I asked. “What the hell will a towel do?” I just couldn’t make the connection. After looking at me like I was so stupid he answered, “A towel so I can pull it out early.” I turned to the Mr. and said, “Lock the door; this boy is not going anywhere.”
This was a smart, mature kid and yet this is the kind of misinformation that he had been fed. Of course, I gave him my best horror stories about disease, etc. and the Mr. helped with a story that involved swelling and a rubber mallet in the doctor’s office to put the final touch on our informational sex education talk.
He went. I don’t know what happened, but he lived to grow up and have a nice wife and three kids, so I guess he wasn’t scarred too bad.
Sorry, first-born. It was just too good a story not to tell.