I haven’t really written much about my background, and growing up and all that sort of thing, so today’s entry is a bit of background to my oddness. I was born the fifth of six children into a military family. By the time I was four, my father had retired from that, after thirty plus years. (This site is basically turning into a graphic autobiography.)
I was probably the smartest child and that caused some friction. I was reading well beyond my years very early and had an extensive vocabulary by the time I was six or seven.
I distinctly remember finding a book, “Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex, But Were Afraid to Ask” and reading it, around age nine. Interesting stuff there for a nine year old. Wow. Eye opening. But here’s where it gets weird, my mother catches me reading this and slaps me and takes the book away. My parents were obviously very uncomfortable with sex. My next encounter with sexual information from the parents was at age sixteen as I was about to got to the prom. My father said “don’t. You see where it got your brothers.” That was it. (my older brother ‘had to’ get married early as his girlfriend got pregnant. That’s what you did in those days. These days…
I started school early, at age four, because most of the neighborhood kids were just slightly older than me, and probably my mom wanted me out of the house. In their defense, I certainly was mentally ready to start school. Physically, however, I was always one of the smallest kids in my class (including girls) and I think that probably hurt my social development. I was always sort of shy and had no confidence. I’d imagine that’s possibly why I was so promiscuous when I finally did start that portion of my life.
rigorous fail
I didn’t have sex until I was 19. That was two years after I moved out of my parents house. The girl I was with mounted me next to a pool and exclaimed, God that feels good! I was echoing the sentiment, but she never knew she was my first. Shortly after that she told me she was late, and I thought, oh, shit. I reflected on my father’s brief sex talk and knew what he’d be thinking, but what the hell, I listened to his advice for three fucking years. (not that I wouldn’t have done it earlier, but I never got the opportunity.) That first time and the results, made me nervous about repeating the experience. Oh, yeah, I was wearing a condom, but it broke. And it turned out she wasn’t pregnant, thank goodness.
A recent study has found that one of the most common causes of condom failure is vigorous sex. Interesting.
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