The Only One

Honestly I don’t remember a lot about how I learned about sex growing up. I remember that it was always held as something special in my family – not necessarily for marriage (although that was ideal), but for someone who you really “love love love”.

I *do* remember sex ed, though, in sixth grade. It was called Family Planning or something to that effect.

It was taught by our lesbian P.E. teacher; she was very no-nonsense and I liked her.

At one point, on the overhead projector, she put up a diagram of the male body, including the genitals. We were given a handout or some such with the same drawing and additional information. She asked, “Is anyone embarrassed? Don’t be afraid.” I raised my hand – you bet I was embarrassed. Sixth grade? Diagrams of a naked adult male? Yes.

But… I was the only one who raised my hand! Now I was REALLY embarrassed.

I knew everyone else was lying. They had to be. Right? I couldn’t be the only one embarrassed to be learning about this, could I?

I have never forgotten that moment, and I am kind of proud that I was able to stand up and admit that the subject matter was new and embarrassing for me. I like to think I’ve taken that approach through the rest of my sexual life, a kind of openness that has made sex fun, never too serious, but special.