Sex Education and the Curious Young Adult.
Apropos a rather toe curling and terrifying talk with Gothy about sex over the weekend, I can reliably inform you I am riddled with insomnia and questioning the wisdom of not drinking hooch when I clearly need a stiff drink every now and then.
How horrible to be young, how horrible and how marvelous. How exciting and fearful and dramatic and foolhardy.
It's hard to impart information onto the young about matters sexual- or indeed any other matter. On the one hand you want to wrap them in cotton until they are about thirty, ignoring their cries for freedom and independence by sticking your fingers in your own ear going 'la la la laaaa la' or offering up useful claptrap ala the Lilac One. 'You needn't think you'll be staying here when you're older'( sum total of the Lilac One's residential help to a fifteen year old Fatcat) and 'You better not come back here pregnant' ( sum total of Lilac One's sex talk)
On the other hand the adult must accept that an informed youth might take better care of themselves and not be afraid to talk to said adult should the need arise. But of course you also don't want to be too condoning lest they get the wrong notion, while simultaneously constructing a bridge so that they feel they can come to you.
It's like walking a tightrope, a terrifying scary tightrope where one false move could result in an STD, an eating disorder or an unwanted pregnancy or...I don't know, a whole other plethora of things that keep people awake at night.
'Honestly Gothy, you should really wait until you're absolutely sure you are with the right person.' I finished my talk on birth-control, dribbling weakly, pathetically sound biting my way to la la land.
Oh what crap. Teenagers, rampant with hormones, are incapable of hearing the underlying message which is to an adult no one is the right person unless you're over twenty-five and serious about shit and have had your heart broken by a fucking idiot and you've learned from it and anyway you're NEVER going down that path again....
I suppose it helps that my relationship with Gothy is such that she feels she can ask me all manner of questions about S.E.X. She thinks nothing of springing eyebrow twitching lines on the unsuspecting Fatcat. And it is good. Too long have teenagers waddled about in the mire thinking that 'pulling out' = birth control or that STDs are things that happen to other people. It's invaluable to be able to speak to a calm cool headed adult who will tell them what's what, even if that calm cool headed adult lays awake all night twitching and worrying about STDS and unwanted pregnancy and how to make a time machines that might send youthful young women back to a time when their biggest concern was whether or not Buffy would make it back from the dead. ( wot weeping).
Thinking back over my own sex education I was alarmed to find I didn't really have any, well none other than 'don't come back pregnant.' I knew the mechanics sure, but that was it. Nobody explained anything else, there was no talk of emotions or orgasms, the clitoris,( what a surprise find that was, like being in the Bond car and asking 'Say Sport, what does this red button do?) STDS, Chlamydia, cervical cancer, thrush, curved penis' hymens or any of the other things a young woman ought to know about. There was no chats about how not having sex might be AOK, how having sex ONLY when you're mentally ready and not because all your friends are doing it is AOK. Nothing about sex was AOK. And as a result it was deemed dirty, sinful, and topic non gratis with anyone who might set you on the straight.
I can't have that with Gothy. As much as foot cramp pains me, and as much as sleep eludes me, I do solemnly swear I will be that fountain of good information. I will attempt to guide, steer and chart courses through the murky waters of the fledgling sexually curious woman. I will not harangue and use stupid expressions. I will try to be realistic and forthright without being overly permissive.
I will sleep again, some day.
How horrible to be young, how horrible and how marvelous. How exciting and fearful and dramatic and foolhardy.
It's hard to impart information onto the young about matters sexual- or indeed any other matter. On the one hand you want to wrap them in cotton until they are about thirty, ignoring their cries for freedom and independence by sticking your fingers in your own ear going 'la la la laaaa la' or offering up useful claptrap ala the Lilac One. 'You needn't think you'll be staying here when you're older'( sum total of the Lilac One's residential help to a fifteen year old Fatcat) and 'You better not come back here pregnant' ( sum total of Lilac One's sex talk)
On the other hand the adult must accept that an informed youth might take better care of themselves and not be afraid to talk to said adult should the need arise. But of course you also don't want to be too condoning lest they get the wrong notion, while simultaneously constructing a bridge so that they feel they can come to you.
It's like walking a tightrope, a terrifying scary tightrope where one false move could result in an STD, an eating disorder or an unwanted pregnancy or...I don't know, a whole other plethora of things that keep people awake at night.
'Honestly Gothy, you should really wait until you're absolutely sure you are with the right person.' I finished my talk on birth-control, dribbling weakly, pathetically sound biting my way to la la land.
Oh what crap. Teenagers, rampant with hormones, are incapable of hearing the underlying message which is to an adult no one is the right person unless you're over twenty-five and serious about shit and have had your heart broken by a fucking idiot and you've learned from it and anyway you're NEVER going down that path again....
I suppose it helps that my relationship with Gothy is such that she feels she can ask me all manner of questions about S.E.X. She thinks nothing of springing eyebrow twitching lines on the unsuspecting Fatcat. And it is good. Too long have teenagers waddled about in the mire thinking that 'pulling out' = birth control or that STDs are things that happen to other people. It's invaluable to be able to speak to a calm cool headed adult who will tell them what's what, even if that calm cool headed adult lays awake all night twitching and worrying about STDS and unwanted pregnancy and how to make a time machines that might send youthful young women back to a time when their biggest concern was whether or not Buffy would make it back from the dead. ( wot weeping).
Thinking back over my own sex education I was alarmed to find I didn't really have any, well none other than 'don't come back pregnant.' I knew the mechanics sure, but that was it. Nobody explained anything else, there was no talk of emotions or orgasms, the clitoris,( what a surprise find that was, like being in the Bond car and asking 'Say Sport, what does this red button do?) STDS, Chlamydia, cervical cancer, thrush, curved penis' hymens or any of the other things a young woman ought to know about. There was no chats about how not having sex might be AOK, how having sex ONLY when you're mentally ready and not because all your friends are doing it is AOK. Nothing about sex was AOK. And as a result it was deemed dirty, sinful, and topic non gratis with anyone who might set you on the straight.
I can't have that with Gothy. As much as foot cramp pains me, and as much as sleep eludes me, I do solemnly swear I will be that fountain of good information. I will attempt to guide, steer and chart courses through the murky waters of the fledgling sexually curious woman. I will not harangue and use stupid expressions. I will try to be realistic and forthright without being overly permissive.
I will sleep again, some day.
Labels: Grey Hairs.
posted by fatmammycat at 9:29 am
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