I haven’t found away to write about what’s bothering me so instead I’ll bitch about something that only bothers me a bit.
Last night, I had a really great night with my mom and sister, just chatting and laughing as we are wont to do. I have always been as open as possible with my mother, because we are so comfortable with each other and because sometimes it’s just fun to talk about inappropriate things. (Really, I am not a person who values being appropriate very much.) I am perhaps unusually uninhibited around her. She knows that I’m a fan of casual sex. We’ve discussed in detail why it is in keeping with my moral code. So my sister brought up some rather recent romantic adventures of mine and we giggled and it was fun and after our hysterics died down, my mother sighed and simply said, “I wish you and Rob hadn’t broken up.”
The implication of that statement wasn’t an I’m sorry your relationship ended and that it caused you pain because you are my daughter and I love you and wanted you to be happy deal, rather the message was I’m disappointed that you aren’t getting married because instead you are back to whoring it up and it makes me have to worry about your soul.
Well. That’s a bummer.
It’s not like it doesn’t come from a loving place. When I was in college on break and would make plans to meet somebody new she was sometimes worried about my safety. (I certainly didn’t involve her in the details of my personal life but she lived with me and was aware of my comings and goings to some extent. For the record, I was safe.) Being a
zealot devout Catholic, she really does think that I’m sinning and putting myself in spiritual jeopardy. The capitol C church is pretty fucking clear about what you should and should not do with your private parts.
I want to live honestly. I want her to recognize that I’m just fine despite breaking rules that she thinks make me a broken woman. I want her to be able laugh about wild things like we do without experiencing a pang of guilt or shame afterward. I don’t feel ashamed. I’m a healthy, sex positive individual and I love that. I just wish I hadn’t had to get to this proud, comfortable, unabashed place all by myself.
I don’t like to make her uncomfortable (er, at least not in this instance). I wasn’t deliberately trying to push her boundaries. We were just having fun and we took an almost imperceptible detour into Sadland because my mom and I are so very different. She did love Rob but I suspect that the biggest reason for that was she believed he was “good” for me.
I’m grateful that I broke away from the conservative attitudes of my family of origin and I love the anecdotes I get to tell people about how truly wacky they are – it’s the best of both worlds, really. And I am lucky enough to have other people in my life who love and support me and embrace my sexcapades. I just wish my mom could be one of them.
I wish, when she found out that I was having sex with Donald Adams the summer before my freshman year of high school that she had been able to say, “Holy shit! Well, let’s get you some damn birth control ASAP!” or some such thing, and told me all about why she was not ok with it, instead of calling my father in hysterics and revealing every confidence so that they could panic about the loss of my virginity together. I wish, when I was 10 or so, instead of introducing me to the “true” autobiography of a girl who “miraculously” survived having been aborted, she would have been able to explain to me that abortion is a complex and personal issue, and told me that my body is capable of amazing things but that it is mine.
And sometimes, I wish she could experience the freedom that I feel, because she deserves that too.
And if I have a daughter, I just hope someday I don’t find myself having to say, “Don’t listen to Mimi, Jesus doesn’t care if you masturbate.”