That Sort of Thing

My parents divorced when I was a young child and moved far away from each other. I lived with my mother who, in addition to being a single mom, turned to Christianity for comfort after the divorce. Growing up, not only was no one having sex in my house, no one was talking about it either. Even though I never remember my mother saying anything to me specifically about sex, I just knew I wasn’t supposed to be having it.

We visited my father a few times a year and because of my resentment and his distance, our relationship was strained for much of my childhood. However, he tells me that at one point he and my step-mom gave me a copy of  Where Did I Come From? (I was around seven). Apparently after I finished reading it, I asked if I could read it again the next night because I liked it so much. Although I don’t remember this specific incident, I do remember finding that book and re-reading it almost every time we visited. They also owned The Joy of Sex, which they clearly left out where it would be easily accessible.

When I was in college, I told my dad that I was sexually active (I was asking to have a boy stay at his place). He had a momentary freak out and then immediately went into contraceptive counseling mode. Once he ascertained that I was using protection he said “Well…that’s fine then. We won’t walk around in our bathrobes if you won’t.” And that was that and has been ever since.

My mother, on the other hand, kept up her abstinence-only policy. When a boyfriend was going to visit over Christmas break she told me the only thing I ever remember her telling me about sex. Ever. She said “He can stay here but you have to sleep in separate rooms because I don’t want your little sister thinking that I condone that sort of thing.”

“That sort of thing.” My mother’s only acknowledgment in the 27 years of my life that I am a sexual being. Sadly, the little sister mentioned above bore the brunt of my mom’s obvious knowledge of my behavior and her guilt at not preventing it. She received lectures, incredibly restrictive curfews and an abstinence ring, handed to her one family Christmas partially for her and partially as a passive aggressive reproach to me. My sister lost her virginity her first weekend at college.

I work now at a feminist sex toy store, spending my days writing and talking about sex. I suppose my mom wouldn’t condone “that sort of thing” either, but she doesn’t know about it. I don’t talk about it.

I’m just following her example.