So, this is the first week of the semester and I haven’t had a moment to write anything from current events yet. So instead I’m going to bring out one of those horrible childhood traumas.
Let me set the stage: I am 7 years old, alone in a big, drafty house. I’m not really alone, but I can’t find my parents, and my sister is hiding from me, because that’s what older siblings do. I am seriously bored (the tv was broken) and hungry. I go upstairs. My parents door is locked. But this is an old house. With old-fashioned locks on the doors, with an old fashioned key. And an old fashioned keyhole. Which means I can actually peak through to see what’s going on.
That’s right. I saw my parents having sex.
This in and of itself is enough to scar any child for life. And I didn’t live in blissful ignorance of what I was seeing–sex ed started young in elementary school. I remember seeing a bad projector video describing penises and vaginas. But instead of showing people, they showed two bunnies having sex. And then lots of little fluffy bunnies hopped around as a result of the reproduction. I’m not sure that was the right tact to take, because fluffy bunny babies seems like a lot of FUN.
But back to my parents. Oh, I can still remember the horror to this day. You see, they also had a waterbed. So that glance I took that was forever burned into my brain translates to this:
Two white, pale fish flopping on a bed. I think I made some kind of noise before I went to wash out my eyes with acid, like of like a dry heave sound, because after that day they put tissue in the keyhole. Which was fine with me. Because dealing with the idea I did not actually come from immaculate conception or the stork or the baby fairy was a hard pill to swallow. That fact that they might STILL be having sex? It was too awful to consider.
I learned an important lesson that day: denial. Denial is a skill everyone can benefit from. Don’t shy away from it. Sometimes pushing your memories in a tight, small box deep in your mind can be the healthiest thing possible. Of course, I opened that box and tortured myself for your benefit. Go ahead and laugh. Then try your hardest not to think of YOUR parents doing the nasty.