mommy making love (or fucking if you prefer)

to clarify an earlier post (and thank you to everyone who responded), my mother has not handed over her diary of sexual exploits (although, if she had, i would read it voraciously). my mother asserted her prudery throughout my youth ("jane marie... *gasp and shaking head in bewilderment*). she never had sex before marriage, never did drugs, obeyed her parents and felt horribly guilty whenever she crossed an established line. bullshit! talking with my aunt, my mother rode a statue of a bull in the middle of a fountain central to her college campus, naked and on acid her sophomore year (and at the time, she had already been dating my dad for two years as they met at 18 and married at 21 so don't write off your mom's possible adventures, michael).

but my favorite cracking of the mask came during a week we spent together in europe tagging along on one of my father's business trips. i had just turned 18 and was heading off to new york in the fall. they decided i needed to learn to drink (as i was going to college). so they (or just my mom on the many evenings my dad had business dinners/meetings/etc) would take me bar hopping each night, having me sample three to five different drinks, in search of one i actually liked (i disliked the taste and abhorred the smell of alcohol). what usually happened, though, was i would order drinks, take a sip, decided i didn't like it, and pass it on to my mom (who had also ordered drinks of her own).

one night in brussels, she and i went to dinner at a fancy restaurant she and my father referred to as "the lobster man". we ordered a bottle of wine with dinner. i didn't like it. she drank the whole bottle. in less than two hours. when the check had come, i began the task of weaving her back through the cobbled streets to our hotel. at one stumble, she leaned against me and spoke this sage wisdom:

"janie, you know what you need to do? you need to go to new york. find a guy. preferably somewhere NEAR your age. and you need to just screw around."

needless to say, i have since taken that advice to heart, although ignoring the gender and age requirements.

back to the memoirs. the other morning, while knitting on the subway, defrosting from the cold, i came to the realization that this is most likely my last winter in new york. the end of a rather intense chapter. one that i do not want to loose to alzheimers or prudery. for new years, i want to compile memoirs of the last five years (stories of the blackout, anthrax, subway stalkers, sex parties, sept 11, living on $8/week, sex museums and sex ed). i have whispered my desire for a digital camera to santa (not for dirty pictures or anything...) so could use it to photograph important landmarks and people. then print out and bind five copies or something for kid, grandkid, and privileged nieces and nephews. this would include juicy bits of my sexual exploits, including prostitution, as it has made a substantial contribution to my new york experience.

so, to rephrase the question, if i was your mommy, would you want to know?