Some Things are Better Left Unsaid
I suspect that, once finished, this post will end up lurking as a draft for a long, long time.
As you may or may not have previously read, I moved out of my apartment on Valentines Day, 1991, and moved back home to save money for my future married life with The Oracle. Our wedding was set for the following July. Although my relationship with Mom was rife with conflict at the time, I sincerely believed I could "tough it out" until our wedding day.
In May or June, my mom and I were at home, probably playing Scrabble, when Mom starts the following conversation. For your reference, John is my former stepfather.
Mom: I've asked John to have a talk with (The Oracle).
Mom: Well, with no experience, I think it's really important for (The Oracle) to know how to please a woman.
Me: Uh...what? (then it sunk in) No. Don't do that.
(Mom restated her case in some way, but my memory fails, thank God.)
Me: Mom, that's really not necessary.
Mom: You may not think so, but it is. I've already talked with John about it, and he agreed to do it.
Let me stop here for a second.
First off, the LAST thing any child wants to confront, outside of microbiology, is the means of how they arrived.
Secondly, when those means are now taking place with an unrelated party with your mother, it's even more taboo. I'll also confess here that in my teens I had the misfortune of opening their bedroom door at the wrong time and was greeted with a sight that I can't forget no matter how I try. Sometimes I hate my brain.
Third, the last thought I want running through my head on my wedding night is, "Gee, this is just how my stepdaddy does it!"
Lastly, at that point in my life, my virginity was nothing but a speck in my rear-view mirror. My mother staunchly believed otherwise; and she had assumed that The Oracle, being a good, devout Catholic boy, was the same way. We'd been up to all sorts of shenanigans by then, and I had no complaints, nor did we need any help from John.
Me: Mom, don't do that.
Me: Just don't. Don't embarrass me like that.
Mom: It's not embarrassing. I'm just looking out for your future.
Me: Mom, don't. I don't want John talking to (The Oracle).
This went around several more times when I finally forced myself to shatter her delusions. The grilling I got was worse than anything I'd experienced.
Where? (Mom, don't worry about it!!!!)
How was it? (Mom!!??!!) Yep. She really did go there.
Looking back, I had inadvertenly thrown The Oracle under the bus by not answering her questions. I've written many times before that I was an invertebrate when it came to Mom, and this instance was no exception. If I had told her the truth on when and where and who, not only would she have been thoroughly dumbfounded, she wouldn't have tortured The Oracle so mercilessly. Or maybe she would have found something else to pick on. Who knows?
It wasn't ended yet. The next day, I got a lecture from John on how I "really disappointed" my mother. Catholic guilt at its finest.
If I only had a spine...
At least I had enough spine that day to spare The Oracle a"tips and tricks" talk.
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