Target Run, Sex, and Done!

On a Target run today, ideas and inspiration bombarded me and I couldn’t wait to get home and start writing my blog. I planned a “Tell All” in weekly segments. I mean it took me four years to get any blog inspiration. But I have come home to a blank page and can’t think of where to start. Distracted on FaceBook, I came across Mortified Podcast #175 “I Don’t Get How Sex Works.” Decided to listen to it.

These people are so awesome (and brave to get up in front of strangers to read from their journals). My stories don’t seem half as good as theirs. I mean, a seventeen-year-old who is clueless about sex and went to the library to secretly read romance novels and then decides to write her own. Too funny! It was a good story too- albeit a little elementary, though that is the point. I knew nothing as a teen. Especially about sex. I never read romance novels as a teen. (What was I reading??) I was extremely sheltered. The first time my gay BFF came over to see my room (keep in mind this was 1985), he turned and looked at me full on serious and said, “Victoria. You do not hang sweaters. You fold them and put them in a drawer.” Wow. He was so smart- My fifteen-year-old self thought. He taught my sisters and I how to use the washing machine. Wow. So smart. He was (technically) my first kiss. He joined my family at a park looking through a telescope to see Halley’s Comet. (Which I tried hard to, but just didn’t see it.) After we got home, we said goodbye on my front porch and he kissed me! I was in love. And later that year, he helped me buy a dress for prom. Wow, he knows so much about fashion! Sixteen-year-old me thought. He did my hair and make-up for the prom! Wow. He is so amazing. Seventeen-year-old me thought.

I was still clueless…he had to actually spell it out for me. He told me he was gay. Ugh, twenty-two-yearold me thought.

Ironically, my gay BFF is the one who introduced me to Mortified and said I should dig out my old journals from high school and apply to be a part of the show. Besides being ‘in love’ with someone I didn’t know was gay… I don’t think I thought about real sex that much in high school. Hmmm… Late bloomer. (What the hell was I thinking about?!)

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