Quick Plug and Walkin' On By the Birds and Bees

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Don’t feel like doing a huge comic plug today, too busy banging out a baseball story. True Story, Swear To God by Tom Beland. Read it. If you like this blog I guarantee you will love that book. Honest, beautiful and just one fuck of a good story. And check out this Smoke and Guns preview over at Newsarama. Fabio Moon is dreamy and Kristen's story looks so goddamn sexy.

________

My father actually asked me once, “So, do you know about the birds and the bees?”

I’ll never forget it; we were sitting in a car outside of a drug store on Court Street, waiting for my Grandpa to come out, “Walk on By” by Dionne Warwick was playing on the radio. I knew the lyrics to it because Slick Rick used them in “Mona Lisa" and I was singing it lowly to myself while playing with a G.I.Joe.

My father turns to me and says the line above, it was so After School Special, and it must have been so hard for him to do it. I was so fucking embarrassed, I just sort of mumbled a quick “yes” which prompted him to ask me if I was sure. My second “yeah” was snappier, very pre-teen angst.

“So you know about how the penis meets the vagina and makes a baby.” It’s a lot funnier when you picture my dad saying it. It’s easy to imagine him rehearsing these ultra-cheesy lines in front of a mirror, trying to keep a straight face.

I said “yeah” one last time, a bit more subdued because the truth was, I actually thought a woman got pregnant when the penis met the mouth. I never even considered the whole penis meeting the vagina thing.

The conversation then went out of control, when he started telling me about my hormones and sex and how I’ll have urges and on and on and on. And the whole time I'm sitting there waiting for my Grandpa to get the fuck out of the drugstore, sweating my balls off while having the most uncomfortable conversation of my life.

I don’t know where my father was coached on the “bird and the bees” talk, but he even told me that there was nothing wrong with masturbation. This was in the fourth grade, I think. When you’re in the fourth grade, everything was wrong with masturbation. A completely normal insult was to tell someone they masturbated. We didn’t even know what it meant but fuck that, masturbators where dirty –- no-one wanted to be a masturbator. My father even acknowledging that masturbation existed was too fucking weird for me, I felt like he was a pervert for knowing what it was.

Anyway, my grandfather finally got back to the car and I was in the back-seat, beet-red with embarrassment, having just heard my father talk about penis, vagina, urges and masturbation.

And God, we got home, and my mother tells me, “So, I understand you and your father had a little talk.” Yes, mom. We talked about how his penis met your vagina and created me, a horny little masturbator. And I’m absolutely fine talking to you about it.

I just kind of nodded and went to my room. My parents never talked about sex again until I started mentioning it, mainly when I started dating MP and I complained to them how we (at 16 years old) were mature enough to have sex but they would never leave us alone. I’m sure my parents were real comfortable during that conversation.

What goes around comes around is what I say.

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