Story of Patience

Under My Covers

PatienceP

PatienceP
Birthday
January 01
Bio
On the surface I'm a well put together, successful mother and wife, but under the cover of perfection and smiles lay the story of child abuse, domestic violence, life in the adult entertainment industry, coping with understanding society rules, roles, religion, honesty and crime against humanity. I'm lost under the covers of life, trying to shuffle through all this mess, trying for once....to have it all make sense. * Disclaimer: The people, location and events have been changed to protect the innocent, any similarities to actual persons, either living or dead, are merely coincidental. Thank you for reading

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Salon.com
APRIL 9, 2012 10:21AM

The Very Uncomfortable Sex Talk

Rate: 10 Flag

I don't care how old you are 17 or 57, you don't want to hear how your dad was doing it up the poop shoot with some sex crazed divorcee. This was going to be the subject of conversation today in my mother’s green and gold minivan. 

We had never really had the “sex talk”. My first date at 15 was with a guy who was 22yrs old. It was after a high school football game, I was on the dance team. It was a double date to Pizza Hut, no big deal, but I knew it would be a big deal to my parents because of his age and now looking back I would have thought it terribly wrong for my daughter to do the same. Her step-father would certainly be out for blood and the 22yr old would’ve been lucky to keep all his body parts intact. But at the time I thought nothing about it, mainly because at that age I wasn’t capable of making a good decision, didn’t know much about boys or their ulterior motives and the guy drove a new black corvette. Okay, so I was more interested in the car than the guy.

My friend and I changed from our little blue short skirts, bloomers and white performance boots into our jeans and sweaters in her parent’s Suburban. We then hopped in the cars of our guys and headed out. The four of us sat at a booth with a sticky checkered plastic tablecloth. The guys shoved pizza in their mouth and I didn't eat anything because I was at the awkward stage of not wanting boys to think I ate actual food or went to the bathroom.

After dinner, corvette guy and I parked by my house and he kissed me as I kept one eye open looking at the blue lit dashboard, smoothed my hand over the soft leather interior and admired the sleek hood of the car. After only a few minutes, he dropped me off at my house and I went inside to be greeted by my mother, who was not as happy as I was that I had been riding in a corvette. She slapped me across my face and told me with beady mean eyes she was disappointed and disgusted with my behavior. I was grounded indefinitely and that my body was not a playground. 

Ahhhh, the literal child comes out…. My body was not a playground? She said stupid shit like this all the time that sent me into hours of contemplation searching for an explanation in my mind. She also used to say anytime I had some sort of achievement “You….made the team, got a good grade, won an award in the science fair, voted onto homecoming court…By The Skin Of Your Teeth!” This one really got me as I would run my tongue across the top of my teeth; could she mean I have plaque? I brush all the time. They felt pretty clean to me. I didn’t understand what she had meant by this saying until I was an adult. Oh, it was a jab at me….you bitch!

“Birds of a feather flock together” was also one that was completely lost on me. What? I don’t even really like birds, why would I want a feathers? Maybe for some cool earrings?

Now, referring to my body as a playground, that sounded awesome. I pictured my body as an amusement park, my arms were swinging rides and the tips of my fingers were the twisting and turning Octopus ride. My nipples were big lights that flashed on and off like those little cars with the sparkly paint the children ride. The curve of my legs and bottom were a roller coaster. My hips, the Tilt-A-Whirl! Oh, I had no idea my body was so fun! No wonder boys wanted to play on it.

My mother’s attempt to have a talk about sex went something like this;

“Put an aspirin between your legs if you don’t want to get pregnant.”

“Mom, you can still get pregnant that way. You just have to bend over.”

She rushed me to her ancient gynecologist. He must have been 90 yrs old and his hands were way too big to be in this sort of medical career.  I was given not one, but three forms of birth control at 17yrs old; a diaphragm, spermicidal jelly and the pill. God knows she didn’t want me pregnant. What would her Bridge Club say? I would have to pick up my birth control at a pharmacy 30 minutes away from my house where I  wouldn’t be recognized, because sex was shameful and of course I was the only teenager having sex in my town.

Up to this point this was the only sex talk I had ever had with my mother. If I had known the following conversation would have taken place, I would have hurled myself out of the moving car before she had a chance to speak. But I had no way of knowing what was about to be said in the Ass-trovan…you will get that in a minute.

 "Do you know how I knew that Son of a Bitch was having an affair?" she said with a voice too loud for an enclosed car, her hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly so that her knuckles were white and her shaky brown eyes darted from the passenger seat where I was sitting to the road.  "Do YOU?" I could actually see the brown hairs rising on her head in an Einstein fashion. I stared straight ahead and sighed, knowing she was going to tell me regardless if I pretended to care or not. I was used to her melodramatics at this point in my life and was not alarmed by her ranting, yelling and flailing arms. 

 "Because YOUR FATHER wanted to have anal sex with me!" 

Accccckkkkkk! Make her stop, didn’t see that one coming! Just make this word, this vision now seared into my teenage head stop, better yet erase it. Pour me a glass of amnesia, stat!  Ahhhh! I see it now, it’s too late and its gross, I want to throw up. For Christ’s Sakes don’t explain this to me! Please go find someone, anyone, one of the Country Club ladies to talk to, not your daughter!

"He normally squeezes my right breast in the morning and gets on top of me and we have intercourse."  She used the word intercourse I guess because the word sex is only used for dirty things.

God, if you are there, make her stop. I began to pray and promise I would never have sex again if she just stopped talking.  I thought to myself, this would be a convenient time for the out of control semi-truck to come hurling toward us. Something! Anything!

"But he tried to have ANAL sex with me, just like she let him do to her! That's how I knew he was having an affair!!!! And you want to hang around this woman who everybody has had a turn?!!! You want to go out to dinner with them?!! Huh!!?? That nasty woman who has anal sex with your father?!!!!" 

I don't recall what else happened during that car ride, I've blocked it out or most likely, I blacked out at that very moment, just passed out cold. I’m sure she left me in the parked car with the windows rolled up that July while she went into Food Town to buy her Cheetos and Soft Batch cookies that she would microwave to get them extra gooey, the ones she would hide until we had gone to bed and gorge herself on their empty calorie goodness and lack of nutrition wondering why she couldn't lose weight or have a husband who didn’t want to do it in the poop shoot.

Disclaimer: You the reader are reading this blog at your own risk. At no time has the writer contacted the reader without their permission in reference to this blog site. If you find the content of this blog offensive you have the right to never visit this site again. The people, location and events have been changed to protect the innocent; any similarities to any persons either living or dead are purely coincidental.

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Comments

Type your comment below:
Oof, sounds painful (pun definitely intended)
Brunhilde: TMI....you think? Yes, this is why the title was "The Very Uncomfortable Sex Talk" Sorry if you were offended.

Mike: uncomfortable on SOOOOOO many levels here. Thanks for reading!
Oh, that was a hell of a ride. I do like you dad's foreplay method though. I might steal it. Grab the right breast, squeeze and have sex. Man, all the years, I've been wasting time doing all this other stuff, hah!
One of the greatest opening sentences of all-time.
Patience,
We are psychic soul sisters! Your stories so resonate with my own experiences growing up. They are helping me to heal.

This story in particular reminds me of having a ‘sex talk’ with my grandmother when I was going through a divorce from my first husband. Because her religious tradition frowned upon divorce, I had to justify to her why we could not work things out. I would later realize that there is no pleasing this woman, but at the time, to remain in her good graces I endured an agonizing lunch using ‘proper medical terminology’ to outline in graphic detail my husband’s many sexual quirks, and how they led me to correctly believe that he preferred men. I may have been 33 at the time but having such a ‘talk’ with my grandmother made me feel like a twelve year old.

Keep doing what you are doing…
Thank you!
Patience,
We are psychic soul sisters! Your stories so resonate with my own experiences growing up. They are helping me to heal.

This story in particular reminds me of having a ‘sex talk’ with my grandmother when I was going through a divorce from my first husband. Because her religious tradition frowned upon divorce, I had to justify to her why we could not work things out. I would later realize that there is no pleasing this woman, but at the time, to remain in her good graces I endured an agonizing lunch using ‘proper medical terminology’ to outline in graphic detail my husband’s many sexual quirks, and how they led me to correctly believe that he preferred men. I may have been 33 at the time but having such a ‘talk’ with my grandmother made me feel like a twelve year old.

Keep doing what you are doing…
Thank you!
Patience,
We are psychic soul sisters! Your stories so resonate with my own experiences growing up. They are helping me to heal.

This story in particular reminds me of having a ‘sex talk’ with my grandmother when I was going through a divorce from my first husband. Because her religious tradition frowned upon divorce, I had to justify to her why we could not work things out. I would later realize that there is no pleasing this woman, but at the time, to remain in her good graces I endured an agonizing lunch using ‘proper medical terminology’ to outline in graphic detail my husband’s many sexual quirks, and how they led me to correctly believe that he preferred men. I may have been 33 at the time but having such a ‘talk’ with my grandmother made me feel like a twelve year old.

Keep doing what you are doing…
Thank you!
Not at all TMI. No such thing, i don't think.
for YOU at that stage , sure, but i gotta say your mom
comes off as a (very faulted) heroine in this post...
Victim of the cultural norms that no doubt were crumbling
around her, she nonetheless backed up her wacky talk
about aspirin, anal sex, etc
with true concern for you...
3 birth controls...

Something my mother, of the same vintage,
would NEVER have done...nor would she have talked openly
of her worst psychosexual ideas & experiences...
ha. he squeezes my right breast then he..
has intercourse...

well, those were different times, yet the attitudes
swim around in the heads of us supposedly liberated
postmodern folk..."scripts " from way long ago...

I like this, very much: "I had no idea my body was so fun! No wonder boys wanted to play on it."

I am thinking your mom wanted an adult male
to "play", not a juvenile one.............
One thing is for sure: this post DOES NOT belong in the poop shoot! Well done!
A rollicking good story! I laughed out loud several times reading it. I can only imagine your mother's reaction to being told, "Mom, you can still gt pregnant that way. You just have to bend over."
Wow whoa . .. Who knows what to write.
Moana ~ Moana reminds me of a angel.
Guardian Moana rated you. I would too.
Psychic . . .
as sojohn wrote.
That's my impression.
You are so Gifted now.
Your Bio & experiences.
Experiences are Teachers.
`
This brought up many memories.
My life was protected from orgy,
sexual perversions . . . War was:
betrayal, anguish, (porn?) violated bodies:
humans
I pause . . .
human beings laying bloody and unnatural.
bodies lay sprawled-out in awkward position.

(Robert Jay Lifton uses the war-porn analogy.)
`
When I was attempting to do veteran advocacy?
I was shocked to be told in confidence realities.
I didn't have experiences in (you write) DO YOU
KNOW! . . .
Butt . . .
A woman would come to tell me she hated 'it'`
a 'it' is thee
. . . 'nasty' . . .
and ask me?
to say what?
intervene?
huh? talk?
tell vet no?
change topic!
`
I've winced to hear about a woman who was in high school and went parking at the graveyard.
They had cheeseburgers.
The 'boy' had onion rings.
He carried his mouthwash.
She was asked to get gargle.
Ugh . . .

"It's stash in glove compartment."

To listen without judgement ...
It's (still) painful awareness ...
In my opinion? You counsel us.

Some folk didn't experience as a child`
`
tenderness, conversation, edification,
and discreet youthful guidance. Sigh.
Of course, we all experienced some?
Reckless adolescent and sad events.

(skinny dipping is in FBI folder - huh)
(next weekend we/I was hauled`gin)
(we hillbillies gulped 'Colt 45' malts)
My Father knew I barfed in cop car.
My Mother knew 'wild' woman call.
`
Somehow we survive. You're alive.
Trauma violations (war/sex etc.,)?
You Transcend it. You can Speak.

It's sad if We People don't process.
I always agree with bloggers here:
`
"A unexamined life" or? Examine.
`
You reenter the scene of Horror.
`
The other day at the VAMC `This:
a youthful 4- tour veteran Shared:
I noticed his sad-eyes and Psyche:
It's the 1,000 mile stare. It's Pain.
I said . . .
You witnessed war . . . etc., Speak?
He confessed a few sad war realities.
I said . . .
Try to see beauty. Beauty is (still) here.
Forgive yourself.
I mentioned `Arjuna.
`
"The dead are not really dead . . .
The death purveyor isn't You . . .
and
(",")
I shared some private memories.
I mentioned . . .
`
'You not gonna hurt/maim or kill
anyone again.' He agreed. Forgive?
The grieved Vet had eyes Tear up.
He was trying to not be a drunker.
`
He was confessing, and maneuvering,
carefully plunging into 'our' nations
wayward bloody war. He's proxy.
The perpetrators of crime is?
War profiteers, porn industry,
Wall Street, vain politicos etc.,
`
on and on ...
the savages are?
the manipulators.
`
CEO's fart in bed.
CEO's sleep walk.
CEO's are dead.
Oy Inner dearth!
`
I didn't know what?
It's a delicate topic.
I commend. Speak.
`
You share
We get wiser
Thank You

These violations/betrayals numb.
Some experience\batter a Psyche.
Wounds (inner bruises do remain).
Not to seem crude but, anal sex done right is a very effective form of birth control, a lot of Mormon and Catholic girls figured that out a long time ago.
To my Phychic Soul Sister, Glad what I'm writing is helping you heal. It helps me as well. I've been divorced from my husband for 11 years and my famiy has punished me for it since....dropping them and that helped too. :)

Art: That was just beautiful. I loved what you wrote here.

Jmac: Crude, nah! I should have told my mother, my father was being smart and didn't want anymore children....but she was driving and I didn't want to die that day.
Heh I thoroughly enjoyed reading this post.

All that rectitude...

:)