If prescribing to dogmatic absolutes worked, then the most conservative Christian red states wouldn’t have the highest rates of teen pregnancy, divorce and porn consumption.
Lara Riscol, AlterNet
This article is made possible with the generous contributions of readers like you. Thank you!
Photo Credit: davidChief via Flickr
From the beginning I knew I was being bad. Between mooning over Aquaman and fantasizing about stealing Speed Racer away from Trixie, new ways of coupling danced warm and fuzzy in my childhood head. When my dad would tuck me into the bunk bed I shared with my brother, he’d wish me sweet dreams of ice cream and Disneyland. I’d close my 7-year-old eyes, nod, and picture yummier treats of my latest crush. One high-mileage scenario involved me as the sexy space alien who Captain Kirk ultimately conquered. I’d vary skin colors, adornments of allure and spirited resistance, but always end up in the sweaty brutish embrace of the manliest man in the universe.
One night when a senior in high school, washing dishes with my mom, I asked her when it was okay to have sex. I had decided to never be a wife or mother, since from what I could see both meant the death of who you are and whatever dreams of becoming more. But the push and pull I played with boys at school had become more urgent, so I tried for parental guidance.