Hello, day five. I love the fact that not only are you an odd, prime number, but you’re also a Friday as well. Brownie points all around. **golf clap**I’m not sure if this qualifies as cheating or not, but seeing as there were never any established ground rules for my daily writing challenge, and it’s now after midnight (making it officially the fifth day), I think this substantially meets the requirement for posting at least once within a 24-hour period.
Man, that was a long sentence!
My topic for the day is already picked out. It has to do with something very embarrassing. And embarrassing is just the tip of a considerably large iceberg.
The topic to which I’m referring involves sex. Specifically, the humiliation that two parents can unknowingly, undoubtedly, and sometimes purposely, flaunt upon their spawn.
Now, I have never been one to be easily embarrassed. My family members have tried just about everything imaginable to disprove this. I’ve been performing in front of people since the early age of three, so I'm not easily rattled. Not a lot unnerves me. However, my one exclusion is parental sex and/or innuendos.
**shudder** Ew.
Case in point. Earlier this evening – or rather, yesterday evening (it’s still dark out so they’re kind of blended together into one long stretch of time), I sat down to watch a movie with my parents. My dear dad, in his efforts to record whatever movie title his satellite program may have suggested to him, picked a real humdinger. I could tell immediately by the look and sound of the opening credits that it was going to end up being some soft-core porn B flick.
I was right.
On both accounts.
Within the first five minutes, there was a man in a speedo, “wooing” a topless woman. I use the word “wooing” loosely. Insert your own expletive here. Suffice it to say, the speedo came off quickly, and the “wooing” started to escalate. I don’t want to see breast meat and pork sausage on the television! Much less with my parents sitting just mere feet away from me in the same room!! I politely got up and excused myself to the kitchen to get a glass of tea.
I swear to you, it took every single ounce of calm I could muster not to squeeze my eyes shut, cover my ears, and run from the room. Not even kidding.
My parents thought this to be highly entertaining.
I know about the birds and bees. I’m in my thirties. I’ve experienced some things for myself. In fact, I actually learned all about it a fairly young age. My sister is roughly four years younger than I, so being a curious three-year-old, I wasn’t satisfied with only the vague information meant to tide me over until I knew exactly how my sister got in my mom’s tummy. Mom and Dad were never kitschy or silly about educating me. I asked. They explained. I don’t really remember this, but Mom does. Evidently, not long before my sister was born, we happened to be in a grocery store behind another pregnant lady. Mom says I first told the lady I liked her hair, and then asked her if she was going to have a baby, too. I then proceeded to tell her just exactly how that baby got in there. Mom says she’d never seen anyone’s eyes get so big, so quickly. I think maybe even the kid behind the counter got a biology lesson that day.
Kids are more observant than we give them credit for, naturally. And they do manage to say the darnedest things.
I’m not living in a cave. I know my parents have sex. I know for sure they’ve had it at least twice. My sister and I came into the world after all. I just don’t want to think about my parents doing some of the things I’ve done. Gives me the heebie jeebies. And I really really really do not want to hear them gettin’ busy. **gag** I mean, they’re nearly 60! They should be spending their days bird watching and shopping estate/antique sales. Not jivin’ to Marvin Gaye.
I can’t exactly put my finger on what it is about it that embarrasses me. It’s like being on a first date with someone – at a movie – and trying to watch a flamboyant sex scene with an air of nonchalance. I have a hard time doing it. Thank goodness the theatre is dark, so he can’t see the nice shade of ruby my face resembles. Maybe it’s the element of having my comfort level forced to spontaneously broaden. I don’t know. I’ve just never been a sexually explicit person (publicly). I think some things should stay behind closed doors. Again, I’ll refer to a previous blog about PDA.
I know human beings are sexual creatures. It is our innate need to procreate and spread our seed. I get it. And when the hormones are surging and you’re caught up in the moment of lust, pleasure and passion…well, you get the idea. The notion of others being affected or not by this is perversely intriguing to me. It’s not like I sit and think about it, but once it’s in my head, it’s stuck! I equivocate it to placing a double-layered hunk of chocolate cake in front of a dieter and then telling him not to eat it. The age-old concept of reverse psychological temptation and determent. Look, but don’t touch. Touch, but don’t taste. Taste but don’t swallow. See a porn flick with the folks and don’t think about where the amorous mood will lead afterwards.
**cringe**
Gonna wind this down now. I’m only going to further embarrass myself by continuing to write about it. The point was to blog about something on a daily basis, and I have effectively managed to accomplish that.
I’m sure one day I’ll embarrass my own children in some way or another. I hope when I’m in my golden years that I’m still kickin’ my heels up, too. In every sense of the word.
Oh yeah... So, how did the movie end? Don’t know. Wasn’t brave enough to watch it. And I’m kinda hoping my parents didn’t finish watching it either. Ick.
I just know I’m going to hear “Sexual Healing” flowing through my brain tonight as I try to go to sleep. Damn you, Marvin! There is just no way to remove the scarring mental image now burned in my brain.
Hold me.
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