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Let it be anything but THAT

When I was about 14, my dad and I were watching television and a trailer for “An American Werewolf in Paris” came on. At the end of this trailer, there is a scene where a girl is straddling some random guy and begins to lift her shirt off over her head and in the process turns into a werewolf.

From behind me, my dad goes, “That’s a show stopper.”

Why do I remember this obscure moment from my childhood? Because it opened a line of thought that changed my life.

You see, that was the first time I thought of either of my parents as a sexual being. Now don’t be confused, I knew the mechanics of baby-making in fifth grade, but it was all very mechanical sounding.

“This goes in here, then that comes out of there and blah, blah, blah.”

So because it sounded more like instructions to put a dresser together than to make a baby, I could distance myself from the thought that my parents had ever done THAT.

I figured it was an accident. That one of them had slipped or it was dark, something perfectly logical. You’ve all been there, don’t tell me denial isn’t a happy place.

That line made me realize that my father was after all just a man, like me. That meant that he probably liked THAT and had probably done some of same things I had or wanted to do.

After that is when Jarid eats cereal, while thinking about parents doing THAT. Jarid in math class, X equals THAT. Jarid spends time with girlfriend, so never ever wants to do THAT.

For days, I wanted to reach behind my eyes with scissors making a repeated stabbing motion until those thoughts were gone. That is until I found someone to blame.

Do you know who’s fault it was? The public education system.

They should have given me a less mechanical lesson on THAT so that I could have come to this realization that my parents may actually like THAT in a controlled, nurturing environment. Better to find out at school than actually from my parents, which I believe is the example given in the dictionary under “awkward.”

When I make my fortune, I’m going to become a health teacher for a day and give the kids the complete baby-making story.

“Boy meets girl. Boy buys girl drink, girl is appreciative and lets boy touch (skip ahead, skip ahead, skip ahead). Boy pulls out video camera, girl apprehensively agrees until she spots handcuffs and screams (Skip ahead, skip ahead, skip ahead). “Why won’t you look at me?” asks girl. Boy replies (skip ahead, skip ahead, skip ahead). “How do you know it’s my kid?” asks boy while girl cries (and so on and so forth).

Thankfully, I have come to accept the idea of THAT happening, on purpose, and it no longer bothers me (much). The only issue now is I’m pretty sure if I realized my parents are sexual beings, they’ve probably come to the same realization about me.

That thought decided to reappear last week at dinner, when my parents met my new girlfriend.

Like that’s not awkward enough. “People who raised me, meet girl I hope to see naked some day.”

That is, I believe, why meeting your significant other’s parents is nerve-racking.

Because on some level, you know that they know that you want to see their daughter naked.

Why? Because they used to like sex just as much as you.

How’s that for a show stopper.

How did you react when you found out? Tell me about it.