My worst nightmare came true Friday. It was about 15 minutes after meeting my partner’s mom for the first time. We were walking down the street to the Homecoming parade when someone handed us a copy of the Alligator.
My stress level rose. Inside the paper clutched by my boyfriend’s mother was an article I had written regarding butt stuff, complete with a picture of me — just to really hammer down who the author was.
We went to lunch and, sitting across the table from me, his dad started reading the paper. My internal screaming reached a high decibel level, as it is apt to do when your partner’s parents’ first impression of you is an article that includes the phrase "choose-your-own-asshole-adventure."
Let me say for the sake of clarity: I am not ashamed of my articles. I’m really proud that I’m open about stuff, and I do enjoy writing this column.
But, speaking with parents about sensitive subjects, which sex often is, makes me sweat.
It’s one of the reasons I’ve never — despite writing this column for five semesters now — told my own parents what I write about.
My parents are pretty conservative people, and something about telling them their youngest daughter not only has sex but writes about it for thousands of readers sends shivers down my spine.
I don’t think it’s just me, nor do I think the awkwardness is solely relegated to just the child’s side of the relationship. How many of you have to stay in a separate bedroom than your partner when visiting family?
It’s probably a fair number. Not necessarily because your parents don’t trust you, but because it may be hard for them to see their prodigy — who they’ve seen as young and innocent and naïve — as a sexual being.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with not being an open book regarding your sex life, either. Your parents probably don’t want to hear how many people you sleep with, just like you’d presumably like them to keep their sexual experiences to themselves.
But, if your awkwardness in talking to parents or parental figures extends to talking to them when it really counts — for example, when you need to see a doctor to get birth control or to diagnose a sexually transmitted infection — it’s gone too far.
It might be uncomfortable, but I know my parents would be there if I needed them to be, just like any responsible guardian would.
A few months ago, I moved into a new apartment, and my parents came to help me.
I thought I had cleaned thoroughly, but some condoms had fallen behind my nightstand and my mom found them. She didn’t say anything, and she left them out for me to grab.
I was mortified, mostly because I’ve tried to avoid talking about sex with my parents for so long. But at least she knows I’m engaging in safe sex.
It’s definitely possible this means I’m immature. But, sex is an incredibly private and intimate thing. You probably wouldn’t talk about it with a professor or the cashier at the grocery store.
In my view, it’s OK not to talk about it with your parents as long as you’re engaging in safe and responsible sex, both parties treat the other with respect on the matter and you know you can come to them when it matters.
In the end, we’re adults now and we can make our own choices about our sexual relationships and our relationships with our parents.
And if we want those two to have no information or say on the other, that’s OK. If you want to be super open with your parents, great! But let that decision be your own and nobody else’s.
After all, it’s all relative.
Robyn Smith is a journalism senior. Her column appears on Fridays.
