herpes, butt plugs, and my mom
My mom drove with me from Ohio to North Carolina. I spent most of the drive curled up with cramps and/or asleep in the back seat.
On one rare occasion I was awake and sitting in the passenger seat. We drove through a capital city (I forget which one, sorry). The capital building was being renovated or re-gilded. Consequently, it was covered in a big white sock.
“That looks like a condom” my mom giggled.
I examined the three tiers of girth. “Actually, I think it looks more like a butt plug.”
“Eww!” she squirmed.
I apologized, explaining that our boundaries are currently so malleable I’m not always sure what is over the line. Then I dropped it. We drove in silence (minus an awesome mix cd) for five minutes.
“You know, those things can give you hemorrhoids.”
I looked at my mom. “Actually, not if you use them correctly, with plenty of lube and proper hygiene.” I then went on to mini-lecture her on the joys of anal play and the importance of lube and listening to your body. “Sex is not supposed to hurt. If it hurts, your body is telling you to stop. Or at least slow down.”
“And how do you know all this?”
I deflected to my great deal of academic research, citing Anal Health and Pleasure by Jack Morin and The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women by Tristan Taormino.
“Sure. Research…”
Sometimes I love my mom. Later she referred to her herpes acting up that week. I looked surprised, as she had never openly discussed herpes with me. Apparently, she’s had some major sores inside her cheeks lately. Understandable, considering her even higher than normal stress level. It was great that she referred to her herpes by name. Not cold sores. Not cancor/cankor sores. Herpes.
Rock on mom.
On one rare occasion I was awake and sitting in the passenger seat. We drove through a capital city (I forget which one, sorry). The capital building was being renovated or re-gilded. Consequently, it was covered in a big white sock.
“That looks like a condom” my mom giggled.
I examined the three tiers of girth. “Actually, I think it looks more like a butt plug.”
“Eww!” she squirmed.
I apologized, explaining that our boundaries are currently so malleable I’m not always sure what is over the line. Then I dropped it. We drove in silence (minus an awesome mix cd) for five minutes.
“You know, those things can give you hemorrhoids.”
I looked at my mom. “Actually, not if you use them correctly, with plenty of lube and proper hygiene.” I then went on to mini-lecture her on the joys of anal play and the importance of lube and listening to your body. “Sex is not supposed to hurt. If it hurts, your body is telling you to stop. Or at least slow down.”
“And how do you know all this?”
I deflected to my great deal of academic research, citing Anal Health and Pleasure by Jack Morin and The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women by Tristan Taormino.
“Sure. Research…”
Sometimes I love my mom. Later she referred to her herpes acting up that week. I looked surprised, as she had never openly discussed herpes with me. Apparently, she’s had some major sores inside her cheeks lately. Understandable, considering her even higher than normal stress level. It was great that she referred to her herpes by name. Not cold sores. Not cancor/cankor sores. Herpes.
Rock on mom.
posted by Jane Vincent at 11:27 PM
6 Comments:
first of all, age is in the mind, darlin'. 23 doth not make thee an adult. nor does 30. trust me on this one.
second, i think all these bumper stickers about "it's a baby" and billboards condemning adult stores only can mean one thing: they've got more money than the pro-choice groups. i've started donating what little i can afford to planned parenthood. and you know what i mean. $10 is $10 more than what they had before.
third, go moms! here's to the road trip being more than what you expected and better than you could have ever imagined. [i'm jealous.]
That's a pretty cool relationship when you can talk opening about herpes and butt plugs with your mother.
-G
I now love your mom! :-) Very cool.
My family isn't that open about sex, but I was able to joke about how I told Harry he has nice balls while he made turkey meatballs for me this weekend - joke to my dad that is. lol Harry commented on how in his baptist parents' home that joke neve would have flied.
Moms are the shit. Mom stories make me cry but I don't care. For me, mom stories are like eating a whole chocolate cream pie or breaking up: it hurts a bunch but worth every stomach cramp and every sad shouting match in the kitchen. Worth it twice.
Keep up the good work.
another good mom story
Wow, your Mom sounds really cool.My mother and I are mortal enemies. I always hate it when people would say "that is your mother, she loves you." No, not ALL parents love their children. I know it is hard to imagine that, but it is true, unfortunately, lol..you are lucky:)
Having an understanding mom is good.
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