BLOG.NOTYOURAVERAGEMO.COM

Let's Talk About Sex

Jeffery — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 02:55:00 GMT

I've been thinking about my attitude towards sex lately. I like to think that I am a rather open minded person when it comes to who does what with whom. I try to follow the adage that as long as everyone is of age, informed and consenting then what goes on between two or more people is their business. I may not understand someone's desire to be tied to a post and whipped, but that doesn't mean I look down on it. Who am I to judge if you like being diapered? For that matter, if you are a person that only likes your sex missionary, in a darkened room, and fully clothed, then bully for you. To each his own, I say.

But where did this disposition come from? To whom do I owe a bit of thanks for giving me this insight. At first I was going to say my mother. It was in her household that I and my brothers and sisters learned not to be ashamed of our bodies. We were taught that sex is natural. We learned that the sex act can be endearing, crude or just plain funny. Get us all together for a family dinner or some kind of function, and I can guarantee that within five minutes someone is going to start talking about sex. It may be a dirty joke, or a debate about who gives the better blow job, but someone somehow will bring up the topic of fornication. My mother is not excluded from these conversations. Before she turned sixty, Mom joked that she hoped she got a dildo for her birthday. I think she was genuinely disappointed in her children that none of us had the stones to follow through and buy her one.

Who then, if it wasn’t my mother, began this stance towards of sexual openness in our family? I think it began with Mrs. Beatrice Dugger, also known as Grandma. Turns out Grandma wasn’t always the god fearing, Southern Baptist that we all knew and loved. I found out recently through discussions with my mother that Grandma was once a woman of, dare I say, loose morals. Allegedly Mrs. Dugger had a first husband who was off to war when she met my grandfather, and she gave birth to my uncle six months before she and my grandfather were married. Grandma apparently also had an affair in the late 50’s.

“How do you know?” I asked my mother.

“Because they had a big fight and Dad was holding her head down in the toilet. He was yelling at the top of his lungs that she had better stop seeing that man, or he was going to kill her,” Mom told me.

I was also enlightened to the fact that Grandma was a booze hound back in the day. She only settled down, gave up drinking and found Jesus after my Uncle Tim was born with mental retardation. While none of these revelations were shocking they did help me understand some of my pie baking, church going grandmother’s actions growing up a little better. See, she didn’t always come across as a sweet old lady.

“Do you know why the Pollack took a saucer of milk to bed with him?” Grandma asked me in her kitchen when I was around six years old.

“No.” I can just picture myself all wide eyed and tow headed. I remember she was at the sink I was standing between the kitchen table and the door that lead to the back porch.

“To feed his wife’s pussy!” she cackled.

That’s right. My grandmother told me my first dirty and racist joke at the same time. I’m not sure how long it took me to work out what pussy actually meant.

This is not the only evidence of how my family’s attitude towards sex was formed. I remember when I was thirteen and visiting my grandparents’ farm for the weekend. My cousin Julie, who is four years younger than me and lived down the road, came over to hang out. It was a warm spring day and we had been outside running, chasing bugs, or throwing rocks, whatever it was kids did for entertainment in those days. We had just come in the front door, sweaty and thirsty from our efforts, when we saw Grandma in the cramped bathroom on our way to the kitchen to get something to drink. Grandma was wearing a dark, oversized sweatshirt with the arms pushed up and slacks while cleaning.

“Aren’t you hot, Grandma?” Julie asked.

“No, I ain’t hot,” Grandma said in her Tennessee twang. She then proceeded to lift up the sweatshirt. It happened in a blink of an eye, but that is all it took. My grandmother flashed us.

Growing up with a matriarch like Mrs. Bea Dugger, a woman who would show her breasts to her grandchildren for a laugh and the shock value, most definitely shaped our perception of sex and our bodies. And crazy as it might sound; I think it was in a good way.

Missing You

Jeffery — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 15:32:00 GMT

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. Maybe that is why it doesn’t seem possible that a year has gone by since I got the phone call. A nurse told me that you had only moments left. I grabbed my keys and was out the door, but you were gone by the time it took me to drive the five minutes to hospice. I ran into the room only to see the empty husk that used to house all the beauty that was you. The nurse standing at the foot of the bed told me you had passed only moments before. Your struggle of the previous six months was finally over. I know you weren’t alone in the final seconds, but I still feel occasional guilt that it wasn’t me with you. I know that isn’t logical, but there it is anyway.

Thanks to family and friends I’ve kept busy this past year. Because of them I have not let my life come to a standstill now that you are no longer physically here with me. I have laughed and experienced new adventures even though a year ago I didn’t think that would ever be possible. Throughout it all you are here in my thoughts sharing along with me. When I act silly, or cross that line of decorum as I am wont to do, I know you are there be beside me shaking your head.

I miss you. I miss your laugh. I miss hearing about how your day went. I miss holding your hand as we walk down the street. I miss laying in bed at night and hearing you breath. I miss... this list could be endless. But enough with the sadness already. I have too many happy memories to let this day rule over all the others.

You were not my first love, but you are my best love. I cherish that above all else.

The Bucket List

Jeffery — Sun, 17 Jan 2010 15:05:00 GMT

I have given my Bucket List a lot of thought these past few weeks. I think the reason for this is twofold: one, I am fast approaching forty-five which means I should be well into my mid life crisis; and two, the anniversary of my partner’s death is next week. The latter alone is reminder enough not to fuck around with my time. If there is something I want to do, then I need to do it. I don’t want to be one of those people that say, “I can’t wait until I retire so I can travel.”Because you know what happens to those people, right? They die two years after they retire never having done anything

I have already done some things in my life that I say, “I can scratch that off my bucket list.” I didn’t set out to have these experiences with a life time goal in mind. They are occurrences that once done I realize was something unique to me. It is almost like working my List in reverse. I do something, add it to my bucket list, and then scratch it off. It gives me a sense of achievement. Maybe that’s the way bucket lists should really work. Instead of “I want to do this before I die” it should be “I’ve done that. What’s next?”

Some of the things that I have scratched off the List in no particular order are:

1) Visited the Grand Canyon

2) Seen the Mona Lisa and the Eiffel Tower

3) Swam naked in the Pacific Ocean

4) Been involved in a fourgy

5) Received an “erotic massage” from a professional as a birthday gift from my late husband (by the way, one of the best birthday gifts EVER)

6) Flown First Class

7) Witnessed a public sex act

8) Got kicked out of the Tower, formally known as Sears

9) Snuck into a movie without paying

10) Traveled to New England

So what is on my Bucket List now? Here is the short list:

1) Travel to the United Kingdom and visit friends (which is happening this year)

2) Visit Canada. I mean it is right there. I have no excuse not to go. I’ve been to Mexico after all

3) Travel to Florida. I think I’m one of the few people left that has never been

4) Learn another language. I know enough of different languages to get me laid or killed, but I really should know more than that

5) This is one is the biggy. It is the dream of all dreams. I want to live abroad for at least one year. If I have one huge Bucket List goal, it is this one

I am sure other experiences will come along that I will add, and then scratch off, from my List. The important part is to go out and create life experience instead of waiting for them to come to me. I leave this post with a couple of questions for anyone who might be reading it. What is an item on your Bucket List? What is something that you have done that I might add to my own? I look forward to your responses.