Monday Ranting – The Trojan Horse…The Talk About Sexy Time

Last Thursday I was watching Parenthood on XfinityTV. As spring is the flowering season, it was the show’s prom episode. Prom is the only time during my teenage life I can remember parents willingly closing their eyes and almost co-signing teenage fornication. Wander and The Man Wander Married weren’t those kinds of parents but I knew some seemingly responsible ones who paid for hotel rooms for after prom shenanigans. I struggle, is that trust or irresponsibility? As we know teenagers aren’t known for their sound judgment.

The meat of the Parenthood episode was the dad’s angst over his daughter being unsupervised with her haute older boyfriend. This sent ridonkulously loud wild acrobatic monkey sex sirens off in daddy-o’s head. And why wouldn’t it? Sex much like those little picture key chains is a prom favor. Not to mention dear old dad knows a little something something about 16-21 year old horn ball tenacity and he didn’t want all of that bursting on his little princess. We’re all princesses until we let some loser with a tattoo sleeve zoom a zoom zoom in our boom boom! Dad’s pre-emptive strike, send in mom with the Trojan horse, “the talk.”

To be perfectly honest I don’t remember having a talk, as in one, with my parental units as much as I remember a series of Wander’s strategically placed one-liners alluding to the need to stay chaste. And if I wasn’t going to stay chaste I should at least use a condom. Good solid, none biased, free of religious guilt advice, and it planted the seeds of sexual responsibility. I will be honest at 14 I wasn’t even 100% sure what a condom actually looked like let alone it’s full use, late bloomer? Granted I’m more of a visual learner so maybe this was a plank Wander wasn’t willing to walk, me no know. Good thing Melrose Place was popular when I was a teen it cleared that unknowingness up real quick.

Of course Wander’s crime fighting partner also known as my dad was another story. In drunken hazes, the only way to share his wisdom, my dad has said to me that all men are dogs who want one thing. No man wants a hoe. You can’t have any dogs without having dog-ettes and that he ran through bishes like rags to riches. As a teen that last statement seemed monolithic but looking back on it, it doesn’t make much sense. What I did take from his stupor, never marry an alcoholic…no wait I meant I needed to keep a lid on the cookie jar because God forbid I was considered a dog-ette…that person just sounds oogly.

Between my parents two approaches and Health class sophomore year with the picture of the vajayjays cheering for team herpes, I was scared way straight. I shan’t tell a lie I escaped the v-club well after many of my peers. And for me that was the right choice. At 15 or 16 I wasn’t emotionally or intellectually prepared to taste the rainbow. And even at 18 when I dipped my foot in the deep end of the pool I wasn’t 100% aware of all the ripples.

Sexual consequences were very mechanical in my mind based on what I’d learned to that point. My parents had already drilled home that neither of them were looking to be grans in their thirties and sophomore health covered the sticky icky. Neither of those said you might develop post coital emoticons that could or could not be real. In most cases not real because the happy dance releases a toddler size chemistry set of hormones in your system masking your good judgment, hence my obsession with one, butter pecan Puerto Rican. I loved me some him. In hindsight he wasn’t all that spectacular. Blame it on the serotonin.

After it was said and done on Parenthood, daddy’s little princess still lost a touch of cunny that night. And like most good kids she lost it and had enough time to tidy up and come home before curfew as to not arouse suspicion. This pleased her parents who could fall asleep believing their no sex pep rally actually worked. What I remember most about the episode was the smirk the daughter had when she entered her room. It spoke of opening a door that can never be closed. There’s a bit of innocence lost when you drop your v-card by the dock of the bay and set sail into uncharted waters! At the time you don’t realize you’ll never be that girl or boy who stood on shore. Someone should teach that lesson!

Sexy time is hard enough to talk about without adding emotional toppings. I presume that’s why some parents chose the happy path of ignorance is bliss or the somewhat bumpy road of mechanical consequences. If you have sex you can become 16 and pregnant. And unlike the MTV reality show it doesn’t stop when the cameras aren’t rolling. It’s a 24/7, 365 day of the year job for life. It doesn’t clear up with penicillin, that hashish is permanent suga lumps. And this is why I don’t envy parenthood.

As hard as it was to stare down a 50 something insurance giant and tell him his company was violating SOX it would be twenty times harder for me to get into the intricate details of sex with a predult (not quite an adult). But someone should. Kids need to know pregnancy and STDs aren’t the only things that can leave the bed with you once the deed is done. Or at least I would have liked to hear that from Wander. You know cause The Man Wander Married would have been tipsy and he might have rattled off something like if her love is like whoa you might wanna marry a bish. And you see how the message can get lost in translation.

What I want to know, did your parents have the talk with you about sex? Was it a series of talks or just one awkward conversation? Did it happen to run concurrently with prom season? How do you plan to speak to your kids about sexy time? Will the conversation be different depending on your child’s gender? Do you think it’s important to discuss all the consequences of sex even the emotional ones?

2 Responses to “Monday Ranting – The Trojan Horse…The Talk About Sexy Time”
  1. You know, I love NBC shows, but I never got around to watching Parenthood.

    Believe it or not, I NEVER got the talk. I don’t know if their strategy was “if we don’t talk about it, he won’t do it”, but um…that didn’t work. In 5th grade, I was damn-near raped by this one girl in my class. In 8th grade it was the same thing. I hadn’t had the talk, but I already knew where the parts went. What worked better than them not talking to me was sex ed in the 10th grade. My health teacher was this very old lady who looked like Rocky Balboa’s trainer. She always showed us beat-up penises (or is it peni?) and the bad vaginas that looked like a loaded baked potato.

    I’ll tell you what, parents need to get to their kids early in life about that sort of thing because they’ll learn about it before they know it. There’s a baby doll for little girls up to 8 years that teaches them how to breast-feed, ( and it may already be too late for parents who let their kids watch Family Guy. Just because it’s a cartoon doesn’t mean it’s for children.

    Great write!


    • Faith M. says:

      Mr Chap I’m sorry those girls tried to take advantage of you in 5th and 8th grade. It sounds like it might have scarred you for life…me no know. And Family Guy is adult entertainment I say this all the time. The beat up peens and pooters was enough to scare me off sex for a couple of years…no one wants the ugly mugly downtown.

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