The Sex Talk
We were in a baseball dugout lit only by moonshine and zappy lust. We were 12. We devoured each other’s faces like hungry ghosts and this sloppy wet amateur slobbering—it was the thing to do forever. I was content. Let the world end and start over. Everything was just this making out.
And then she said, or kinda purred, “You can go up my shirt.” and my brain melted. The fact of deep kissing alone had already justified my inevitable death, but this suggestion went further, leading to the belief that maybe God loved me. My hand crept slowly up her skin and then—Michelle Cole scarred my hand, forever burning the tactile sense of her jiggly breast into the memory of my fingertips.
*
I had the sex talk with my son and discovered that school had already covered the technical aspects of reproduction in animals. But there’s so much more. It’s such a bigger story.
*
I remember seeing girls, gazing at their hair, wanting to bury my nose in it, and just wanting to—I don’t know—do something to them. This vague, undefined outline of desire. Emerging into my body’s new longing, ignorant of its aim. But it felt wrapped in the power of the most secret secrets. I dreamed of lost keys to magnificent castles. And gold coins and jewels in forgotten treasure chests buried deep in the cold earth. I wanted to fuck.
*
My son couldn’t identify with this longing or at least he wouldn’t cop to it. I told him that was cool, just alerting him to the possibility of a whole new biological terrain that’s all kinds of confusing. But wonderful too. He nodded his head, wishing I would stop, and I smiled, envying him, remembering the whole new realms of being alive that lurked in the dark on the other side of 12—such a jolt, because you thought you had shit figured out. But then, inexplicably smitten. Sweaty palms. Love letters. And—good God—kissing. Do you remember the joy of discovering kissing?
*
We talked about his Uncle Bryan, how he liked dudes, and how we lived in a time when being gay was struggling through labor pains of acceptance. But assured him that he lived in a home where he was accepted no matter where his treasure was buried. And then he asked if me and Jenna had sex—a question he regrets. I said “Yes”, he looked ill, and our discussion was effectively destroyed. I assured him I was available and kicked him out the door into the seething sexual cauldron of lust and 7th Grade.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Reader Comments (32)
What a great dad! He's a lucky kid.
Would have loved to be a fly on the wall during that conversation, my friend. Loved how you got deep, educational, metaphysical, and political...all at the same time. That's why you are who you are. Don't ever change.
Hope it works to his advantage and that you didn't take all the enjoyment of getting a handjob on the bus during the 5th grade class trip to Colonial Willamsburg.
Oh wait...I'm projecting again, aren't I? Carry on.
Seventh grade. My kid is four. I don't even want to think about it.
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I was still sporting wood from holding hands at age 12. I should've grown up in Michigan (or NY, based on MetroDad's response)!
You're a hell of a writer, BHJ.
Can we hire you out for the sex talk at my house?
Sigh. I'm echoing the other Elizabeth's comment.
Mathias is a question-asker, an earnest listener. He's gonna knock some girl(s?) for a loop --KAPOW, right between the eyes.
Sam? Let's just say during our first sex talk seven or eight years ago he equated women to slot machines and it only got worse from there. Hell, right before he left for basic he was giggling at some of Mathias' more highbrow questions.
Ours is 4. They seem to be finding out younger and younger, so I figure I'll hold off till at least 6.
how to effectively destroy any discussion is just mention someones parents having sex.
"...A home where he was accepted no matter where his treasure was buried." Bravo, my friend.
I can only hope things go this well for me in 5-6 years, both on my end and his.
This post makes me want to go fondle a breast, just for old times' sake.
this is kinda how i hope the sex talk will go in my house.
wow. this was awesome. it saddens me how, as adults, we tend to find the magic of kissing overrated. you think of lust as an adult and its all porn and blowjobs. not that i have a PROBLEM with blowjobs...
*sigh*
kissing is totally the sex of the seventh grade.
what a great article.
You know what's funny... I never really got into the joys of making out till I was 26 and I met the woman who would be wife. weird. making out when i was younger felt awkward... and previous girlfriends.. maybe it wasn't as fun. And then when I met my wife... we'd make-out... just make out... no sex (right away at least) and it was mighty.
I got my first handjob in 7th grade. I remember listening to Def Leppard Pyromania a lot that summer. I also felt boobs that summer for the first time. God it still gives me a chubs thinking about it. I also loved to rollerskate back then. Yeah. Rollerskating and handjobs. Good times...
man, to think someone thought my hair smelled like a field of fresh daisies. as a grown up, or one i try to play in real life, i do hope my children have this fantastical feeling with the other person. the wonder, the freshness, the smells of new hope and excitement. the thrills of which we all forget down the road.
and could you please, have the sex talk with my girls as i have labeled their business as "china." You know, you only bring it out during special occassions.
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your simple yet brilliant way of describing "the joy of discovering kissing" turned me on... and yet this was such an awesome and awkward conversation to have with your son.
how do you do that?
your writing never ceases to amaze me.
Sometimes I wish I was a boy. Sex is so simple for you guys. Jiggly breasts burn your fingers. We just get a nagging longing that never, ever goes away, even after the explosion.
Our oldest just turned 13 and he's on his 4th girlfriend. He's still a pip-squeak, impatiently awaiting puberty. All his friends are getting big and hairy, but he's super cool and awesome and the girls have always liked him.
His current girlfriend is HOT. I wonder what they do. I remember being that age and crawling out of my skin.
Sigh
Wow, yeah, kissing. Reading Black Swan Green, where much of your commentary on hair and curves and desire are mirrored. You'd enjoy, I think.
Anyway, just got back from vacation where my stepdaughter, 12, had A Major Development. There was sadly not much to talk about since A) She has had the talk with her mom, and learned the anatomical tidbits in 'Issues' class at school, and B) I think she'd rather put a fork in her eye than discuss details with her stepmother. I am envious of your talk, and hope to be as successful with the 6 YO. Big deal, 7th grade.
I always liked to look, to try to will them into looking back at me. Sometimes it didn't work the way I'd hoped.
DIdn't I hear somewhere that you were a middle school teacher? And yet you find it perfectly acceptable to immortalize not only your 12-year old conquests, but you make sure your son's embarassment over your juvenile handling of the sex talk is also out there for everyone. Middle-schoolers are embarassed by their parents being parents, but you take the cake for assholery. You suck as a father. These other assholes don't know what they're talking about when they kowtow to your idiocy.
Good evening, James.
God, 7th grade was a cauldron! Every week the popular kids were swapping boyfriends / girlfriends whilst the nerds watched from the sideline and wondered when we'd get to hold hands. I'm glad to have been an ugly duckling. Gave me a good head even when I ended up being kind of pretty.
Co-worker w/4 kids once told me about having the talk w/ his son. When he finished, his son looked at him, incredulous, and said: "You and mom did that FOUR times?"
Oh, and James? Fuck off.
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Brave man. I should start planning that talk now before we even plan on planning for kids.
First, I agree with juliejulie's comment up there.
Oh, yes, I remember the joy and pain in the discovery of kissing. Hours spent lying on the bed of my 8th grade boyfriend, doing nothing but kissing and both of us giggling, sweating, shaking. All we wanted was to be adults, to be able to do this THIS with no consequences...we had no idea how simple things were back then. Oh, to have that feeling back.
Also: Hey James, suck it.
re: that last paragraph. Thank you.