THE BIRDS AND THE BEES

When I look back at my childhood, I can’t seem to recall the first time I learned about sex. My parents never actually sat me down and explained where babies came from. I learned the actual mechanics in 6^th grade in sex education class. Thank God my parents signed the permission slip or I might still to this day think that the way a woman got pregnant was if a man peed in her.

There were certainly missed opportunities for my parents to explain to us about sex. For example, on Sunday mornings, my sister and I would occasionally jump into bed with my parents. One Sunday, I noticed a foil wrapper sitting on the bed spread with a slippery coating on the inside. I presented it to my father and said, “What’s this?”

Being the brilliant improviser that he was, my father responded with, “Um…it’s nose medicine”. So instead of telling me about condoms, he lead me to believe that if you put the wrapper on your nose, any nasal ailment would be cured.

And incidentally...the thought of my parents having sex just makes me want to puke. And if you ask either of them, I think they would each respond the same way. 

I did finally learn about condoms in 4^th Grade when Lewis Simon brought one to school and took me into the bushes to show it to me. He told me he stole it from his father and that he used it for sex. And then he unwrapped it, put it over his head and then proceeded to blow it up by exhaling through his nose. We played with it for awhile, and then he showed me his wiener and ran away. But I still didn’t understand what this giant, greasy balloon was for or what sex was. Although I was intrigued by Lewis’s wiener.

When it was time for Sex Education class, I was really excited to learn exactly what to do. By this point I understood most of the body parts, but still wasn’t sure what to do with them. I remember being in class and my teacher Mrs. Meyers would talk about various body parts and we would have to repeat them.

“Penish,” she would say with a slight impediment due to her buck-teeth. And then the whole class would repeat the word through uncomfortable titters and giggles.

We had an anonymous question box that we could place a question in if we were too embarrassed to ask in class. I was always filling out slips of paper so that I could really get a handle on this sex thing. One time during indoor recess, this son of a bitch Michael Something-Or-Other, saw me put a paper into the box, grabbed it out and read it to the whole class.

He read, “Why does it burn when I get soap in the hole of my penis?” Everyone laughed and I was mortified. Mrs. Meyers caught him reading my question. And instead of punishing him for torturing me, she simply said, “Jeffrey…just don’t put shoap in your penish hole!” 

Needless to say, I eventually understood what sex was about and turned into a sex maniac. To be continued.

Now you’ll have to excuse me. I have a sinus infection and have to put a condom on my nose.