If I could, I'd like to outline my sexual education for you.
It didn't take place in a classroom, nor any other part of school, such as the gym teachers office, or in the janitor's closet, or out on the football field one night after the Spanish teacher got done telling you why he was unhappy in his marriage.
It didn't take place in a church, and it wasn't personally taught to me by a priest, or any other clergyman that was forbidden to marry.
It consisted of my mother almost, but not entirely chucking a book by Dr. James Dobson into my room when I was in the 6th grade, saying, "Here Travis, I picked this up at the library, you should read it!" And running out of my room back into her protected little housewife bubble.
It also partly consisted of a prank some older girls pulled when I was in the 5th grade that involved them leaving little scraps of paper on the floor of the gym that said, "A woman get's pregnant by a man putting his penis into a woman's belly button..."
I still won't put a load anywhere near one of those things.
The book had a chapter in it called "Sex" or something like that.
I turned right to it. Hell, I thought it might have pictures.
Instead what I read was a graphically detailed chapter of how a p goes into a v, and how babies are made. They didn't get right into the "parts" so to speak, but they gave me the basic idea of things, which I was sorely needing, because I was starting to be the kid that "didn't get" jokes at school.
It also taught me how to masturbate.
Now. Before I go further, I'd just like to say that I am sure that when Dr. Dobson wrote that book, he didn't envision a child starting a habit that, 15 years later, has developed into a hobby that he's mastered much like a young Asian boy masters karate and meditation.
However, that's what happened.
But I've wandered off the point a bit.
The point is, I didn't know certain things about a woman's body. Hell, I'll be honest, I'm still in confusion about that g-spot thing. That's real. And don't give me any of that "Poor Missus" shit, I don't think she even knows where the damn thing is at. It's like finding a set of keys in a lake that you've been looking for for 8 years, then turning around in excitement to tell your wife about it, and knocking them back into lake you pulled them out of.
Anyclimax, I was 16, and I was at my first girlfriends house. We had been dating while, long enough that we were using the "L" word, and I was getting handjobs pretty regular, and I still thought regular handjobs were a pretty cool thing.
Somehow, the topic of her period came up. This sparked a question in my brain. A question that I thought I could trust her not to laugh at.
"Hey. When you have to pee and you have a tampon in, do you have to take it out to pee?"
uncontrollable laughter and finger pointing
I was pretty ticked off.
"Travis, we have a pee hole. It's right above the vagina... Did you not know this?"
"No. I didn't. Thanks for laughing at me."
So yeah... That's how I found out that a woman doesn't pee through her vagina.
Maybe next time I'll tell you about Kid Funk diagramming where the clit is for me.