My Parent's Sex-Shaming Views Turned Me Into A "Slut"

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Sex-Shaming
Sex

God is always watching, they said.

I was six when my mom gave me "the talk." Six! It consisted entirely of an anatomical lecture on the menstrual cycle, eggs, and sperm. Oh — and they mentioned something about a penis and where it went. 

She concluded the presentation with the warning that "God was always watching" and if you had sex when you weren't trying to make a baby, you were going to Hell.

That was it.

The next time I heard anything even remotely sexual was when I was a teenager and my parents gave me a very serious lecture on the dangers or pornography ... and then grounded me for two weeks. Apparently they found naked pictures of men on the family computer and were fully convinced that I was carving out my pathway to Satan.

I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about since I'd never in my life seen a naked man, but during my two-week grounding I came to the conclusion that one of my brothers must be gay because it certainly wasn't me looking at male nudie pics! I was right.

Either way, I learned very early on that sex was a "disgusting" and "mechanical" action that's only goal was to create babies.

When I was 14, my mother called me from a mental institution where she was being treated and asked me to give "the talk" to my youngest brother. I passed on the knowledge that I knew and it was every bit as uncomfortable as you might imagine.

Then I turned 17 and got my first boyfriend.

It wasn't long before he realized how inexperienced I was — and it was even longer before I realized how inexperienced I was.

Up until this point I'd never even seen a real penis. I hadn't had the opportunity. I knew that looking at porn would send me to hell and I happened to be home sick the day that my high school sex education class looked at pictures of STDs — a moment I was secretly excited for, as it was the first opportunity to see a real-life penis, even if it was covered in warts.

So when my boyfriend asked me if I'd ever seen "a real man." I said no, and I kid you not, what came next was one of those "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" moments right out of an elementary school playground story.

I dropped my pants, he dropped his, I  freaked out, and that was that.

I fell in love with that boy, and as most teenagers do, I started to push my sexual boundaries.

"How far exactly can I go before I go to hell?" I wondered. "If there's no chance in making a baby, that doesn't send you to hell, right?"

As I pondered that question, my curiosity and teenage hormones took over, and though it was a learning experience for me, my boyfriend was more than thrilled to be my teacher.

Now, to my credit, I didn't actually sleep with him, but down in the basement — under the floor where my parents were eating dinner and saving the world from Satan — I was blowing my boyfriend and walking around naked.

I was having fun, but I wasn't making babies.

I felt really smart. I also felt really ashamed.

The boyfriend and I eventually broke up but when I went off to college, my craving for sexual knowledge only intensified. Despite the fact that I was fairly certain my parents would kill me if they ever found out what I was doing, I couldn't contain my curiosity.

I didn't even know people did stuff like that and now that I did, I wanted to know what else I didn't know. I'd been so starved of sexual knowledge that when I peeked behind the curtain my parents had hung on the subject, I wanted to yank the whole damn thing down and see what else was hiding in the closet.

So, I studied sex in college. 

I started out as a psychology major and absolutely loved everything about it. When I took a required sex therapy course, I knew I found my niche. That class not only captivated me, but it felt somewhat daring. I knew my parents would never approve — and part of me loved that. 

Sex talk became normal to me. Until you've taken a class where you have to take exams on not only the dynamics of the brain and how they work with human emotions, but also watch demonstrations on "cunnilingus techniques," you haven't really lived.

When you spend all day talking about the communication requirements needed for good sex and learning the best techniques for anal, you tend to lose your social filter. 

By day I was living out my rebellion in a professional manner, and by night I was living it out in ways that I can't share on the Internet.

I will say that I had my own personal "Come to Jesus" chat of self-discovery and I decided that for me, casual penetrative sex was off the table outside of a committed relationship, but everything else was game-on — all the time.

I gave my boss a blow job (totally forgot about that security camera!), got naked under a street lamp in a parking lot after a first date, hell I even got naked with several of my co-workers while we groped each other in the ball pit of the children's playland where we worked (now that I have kids I really regretting that one), and I can't forget the time I pressed my nude body against the window of the car my boyfriend and I were having sex in — where I knew the people outside could see us.

And that's just what I'm even willing to share.

I didn't have an abnormally high sex drive, I just had one that I didn't mind sharing with other people —  dating or not.

Unfortunately, my parents' complete and utter failure in giving me a sexual education didn't turn out to be all fun and games; it also turned out to be dangerous.

When I got married and my husband immediately started raping me, I didn't know what was happening.

In my class I'd been taught an immense amount of rape recovery therapeutics but we mostly just glossed over the nitty-gritty details of what was and was not considered to be rape. So, when it happened to me, I  had no idea it was even happening.

Today, I'm a 32-year-old divorced woman with several boyfriends — and even more sexual partners. I still stand by my own self-imposed decision to not have penetrative sex outside of a committed relationship but anything else is fair game. And let me tell you, the game is still on.

I may have grown up with the sexual identity of a plant, but just as any plant starving for light, I caught a ray and I bloomed. 

So in a weird way, thanks Mom and Dad.

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