Per usual, I'm avoiding homework due in a couple hours, so I decided to write an entry on something I've been meaning to do forever. Anyone who knows me will know it's one of my favorite subjects, and let's be honest...pretty much everyone else as well: sex. Fucking. Making Love. Doing it. "Ya know." etc.
As many kids, my first exposure to anything sexual started in elementary school in I think 4th grade when the teachers explained where babies really come from. The mention of penis, of course, resulted in many giggles (still makes me giggle, I'll admit) but it didn't really seem that shocking to me. My mom always told me babies come from mommy's tummy, so that seemed like a good enough answer for me for a long time. But the idea of sex seemed weird and not much else.
By the time I hit middle school, I became more curious and started peppering my mom with questions mainly about puberty. In response she tossed me The American Girl book, The Care and Keeping of You. I read all of it, mainly for the awesome American Girl illustrations. Who knew American Girl could make breast development and eating disorders seem adorable?
I have to hand it to the Whitefish Bay Middle School for giving me good information, seriously. We would have a time in class when we could ask any question and it was my favorite part. One of the more disturbing revelations in middle school though was the idea of blow jobs. I heard about girls giving them out and when I learned exactly what they were, I was horrified. I suddenly wondered why anyone would want to be a girl. We bleed uncontrollably 12 times a year and have to put a dick in our mouth to make guys happy? Blech!
Once I got to high school, my hormones were a raging and I thought sex seemed like the coolest thing in the world. Going to an all-girl's high school though, opportunities were zilch (not that I wanted to). None of my friends had sex in high school and neither did I, so my information on the mechanics were limited. As was sex ed at DSHA. And by "limited," I mean there was none.
I have few problems with my alma mater, and one of them would be the utter lack of sexual education. It's a Catholic high school, I get that, but no STD discussion coupled with our ridiculous morality class was inexcusable. In morality class we learned contraception was bad, masturbating made you depressed, and sex before marriage was a super big sin. All of these things seemed beyond stupid to me. I would be the one asshole raising my hand in class to counter what the teacher was saying...which is why I'm guessing she didn't like me very much.
My mom gave one word answers when it came to sex and my dad was off limits, obviously. School was no help and neither was friend experience. Thus, the bulk of my sex education was self taught. And I do mean self taught. Wikipedia was my god as was Cosmo magazine which I would sneak peaks at when my mom was shopping at Fitzgerald Pharmacy or if a friend bought it and let me borrow at lunch. My fascination with any and all things sex related continued on throughout high school and may have even lead to some mild porn exploration (which my mother reacted to irrationally...by sobbing uncontrollably and telling me I was not pure).
I was not allowed to date until I was sixteen, and then when I turned sixteen my mom upped it to eighteen. She constantly told me I was too immature to date (which I was, obviously, but come on I was 16). My first kiss was when I was fourteen at a Forensics tournament and I waited two years before telling my mom, and she still got pissed off at me. Not for not telling her, but for getting a kiss on the cheek in the first place. I grinded at a dance my junior year of high school and my sister told my mom about it and I was then grounded from going to the Winter Formal.
If you can't already tell, my mom had a huge issue with anything slightly sexually related. My dad was more of the, "Don't ask, don't tell," mentality which I appreciate now as an adult. I'm sad I never got to bond with my mom over having crushes on boys or kissing because I knew her reaction would be to yell at me. So for me, knowing about sex and reading/watching sexual things was the ultimate rebellion.
I hate to admit that the ultimate aid in my sexual journey was fan fiction. Yup. I learned the mechanics of sex through reading dirty Harry Potter fan fiction in the library at school during study hall. You have to think there is something slightly wrong with a girl's exposure to sex being so closely related to fantasy and magic, but what the hell. It's very me.
Once I got to college, the exposure was like a slap in the face. My first weekend in college I went to a house party with a very short skirt on. I made some key mistakes:
1) Telling a boy you went to an all-girl's Catholic school
2) Admitting you are a virgin
3) Saying yes, in fact, you do still have your uniform
It's amazing I wasn't raped or roofied that first Saturday night. Within a half hour, I had three guys trying to convince me to come back to Slater with them because I "totally had the sexy librarian thing going on," before my awesome friend Nicole swooped in and took me home. I left that night in tears and with a big wake up call.
Since then sex-related stuff hasn't been smooth sailing, but most of my awkward/uncomfortable moments are safely tucked away in my freshman year and before. I didn't "lose it" until I was twenty and I regret nothing about it. I've always been an open person and have helped friends through there own sexual issues or relationship problems, even before I even had a lick of experience to offer (no pun intended...ew). Second semester my junior year, my final autobiographical piece for my acting class was on sex and organized like a collection of stanzas on different types of love. It was probably one of the most freeing experiences I've had in college, and no one else was involved but myself.
Oh, and don't worry, being me there are plenty of other embarrassing, cringe-worthy moments hidden in my prepubescent past, but there they shall stay. Or, at least, off the internet of course. But at the very least I think the one awkward thing we all have in common are our first encounters and exposures to the idea of sex as a thing beyond baby-making. Get a few margaritas in people and these can be the best stories of a party, hands down.
(And on a personal note, I have a new boyfriend named Luke. He's a business reporter for the Press Citizen and super awesome. If you're reading this, Luke, I'm so sorry but I hope you get used to how awkward I am pretty soon.)