Sex = Baby?
Everything in my past that has been interesting hasn’t been tied to sex. Or involved being tied up during sex; I just wanted to make that clear.
Actually a huge percentage of my life was without sex altogether, unless you count the solo stuff and then it was pretty consistent for a long time.
I was raised in a sexually repressed environment. I really don’t believe that my parents had sex much, unless it was for the purpose of procreation, which was definitely part of the plan right from the beginning. Getting stories from my parents about their relationship was like pulling teeth, and my Dad had full dentures from an early age, so that was impossible.
Things I know ‘for sure’ is that they had separate beds from the time I was age 4, and probably before that, although that’s as early as I can recall that sort of information. They did have double beds that were pushed together, but never the twain shall meet? I don’t know.
They met in college, and must have had a strange courtship, I would imagine. My father was nine years older than my mother, he 30 she 21 when they married, I believe. The story is that they agreed that she would be willing to have a large brood of kids (6 total that made it) and he would take care of paying the bills while she stayed home and raised us. Another oddity was that she never got up in the morning to prepare breakfast, that was part of the arrangement as well. That’s not so strange in today’s world, but back fifty years ago, I don’t think these sort of contractual events happened much. I could be wrong.
I think Dad, because of being in the military, knew he was going to the mess hall for his eggs and coffee, so he didn’t care. He was career Air Force, but when those 30 plus years were done, she still wasn’t getting out of bed early for nothing. I think it irritated him after a while. He was an early riser, up by 5 or 6AM or so every day pretty much, making coffee, whether he was working, weekend, retired, or whatever, and there was Mom sleeping until 8 or so. Strange as all get out.
Eventually when enough kids had moved out, they ended up in separate bedrooms, because he snored when he slept after drinking, and he drank everyday, a lot. I know he had to go through a couple fifths of gin a week. Old memories of him falling over and bruising or cutting himself up. I swore I would never drink, and kept that oath for quite a few years. I did smoke dope to make up for it though. One of my most odd times was looking down at my prom date because she was drinking. I was so superior because I was above that behavior. (as I smoked my pot) Stupidly made a big deal of it and ruined that night.
One other memory, (this was supposed to be about the repression and I’m getting back to that) was that around age 12 or so, I found a book in our hall closet, “everything you wanted to know about sex, but were afraid to ask” and I was reading that. I don’t even know why that book was around. My mom found out that I was reading that and smacked me, and took it away. Now shouldn’t that have been a doorway to a conversation with me? Not in 1975 it wasn’t. It was just a kid who was interested in ‘adult stuff’ and I needed to be knocked down.
Sort of reminds me of the sex ed talk my father gave me the night I went to prom (the short story above was actually after this talk. Here’s the entire talk, “I have one word to say about sex. Don’t. You can see where it got your brothers.” That was it.
Now to explain, my brothers both had knocked up girlfriends (or so I was lead to believe) My oldest brother got married young and that ended in divorce. My other older brother I thought had his girlfriend pregnant, but my timeline was wrong on that one. She got pregnant after they broke up, much later, but somehow maybe even my Dad had that confused. Or maybe I remember it wrong, but I doubt it. Maybe he was just trying to scare me.
