We are all the product of our past experience, so,  how did I learn about sex?

I grew up in a happy home. Three of us. More than enough love to go around. We always had animals. My father taught me to love and care for them. One of my earliest experiences was a very sad one. A beloved dog named Lady was hit by a car and killed. Right before my eyes. My father dug her a grave, made rose garlands to wrap around her feet and neck. Such a sad moment. I remember waking up in the middle of the night in tears. I got out of bed and wandered off to my parent’s bedroom and crawled in bed with them. My father’s head was above my mother’s and I slipped under his arm and lay my head alongside hers.  I hadn’t a clue what was going on, but I felt a welling of love like I’d never felt before.

“We can all cry,” I remember saying, “We’ve plenty of sheets to dry our eyes.” My father’s arm moved and his whole body slid in alongside my mothers and the three of us cried. It wasn’t until years later, remembering the scene, that I knew what had happened.

That was my first sexual experience.

I have a theory: a little girl must love her father in order to have a happy life with her husband.

We always had cats. Pairs of cats. Watching them mate was, in the beginning, a bit disturbing. So noisy. Were these guys having fun or what? The best part was always when the Momma cat gave birth. Darling little creatures clawing to live, wrapped in little plastic sacks long before plastic was invented. When they found their mother’s teats and began to suckle, everyone watching cheered.

My father bought me kid’s books. I remember one had a picture of a male dachshund sitting up. The male part of him was there for little eyes to see. I also had a mare who liked girl. She scorned stallions-turned up her nose- but oh what a splendid show when a mare went by. My first riding instructor was gay, Cornelia Van Ness Cress, the best riding instructor I ever had. Her girl friend was a part of the family.

It was all so natural. So human. So much a part of what life was all about. Living things did it and, often, baby’s were the result.  No one taught me about the birds and the bees. No one lied. No one laid a guilt or sin trip on my little head and when I was old enough to participate my mother sent me to a doctor to be fitted for a diaphragm and my father had a long talk with my partner.

As for sex education in the schools today? How about a cage of bunnies? A buck and a doe. A colony of rabbits.  Good books. A great, open, loving teacher.

Sex and the single kid can be a delightful experience.


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