SEX!

I'm reading Naomi Wolf's Promiscuities: The Secret Struggle for Womanhood, and have been thinking lately about my own experiences growing up and learning about sexuality and sensuality.

Wolf's book is a look, part memoir, part speculation, at how growing up in the licentious 70s during the sexual revolution in San Francisco shaped her opinions and actions about sexuality. Torn between the dichotomy of virgin and whore that lingers despite the best feminist efforts to kill it off for good, and the freedom of experimentation that enveloped the era, Wolf and her friends grew up in a world of confusion surrounding female desire. It excellently ties in with the more scientific research of Leora Tanenbaum's Slut! Growing Up Female with a Bad Reputation.

While I can't identify with the time or the place that is the setting for Wolf's adolescence, her evocation of the slut/virgin standard reminds me of my own experiences. Lucky for me, California is one of the more progressive states regarding access to sex education and contraceptive information. Thus, brief as it was (I think only two weeks of one semester every year or so were dedicated to sex ed), I got proper and medically correct information about how sex works, how pregnancy works, and how diseases are transmitted. Obviously absent was any knowledge about female pleasure (but then again, male pleasure wasn't covered either, although we got plenty of that knowledge in day-to-day conversation), but at least I wasn't hit over the head with abstinence and religion.

That said, I had the scientific education, but where did I stand emotionally? What did I think of sex? I didn't get abstinence education from school, but I sure as hell got it from my parents. Well, my mom. It was very bottom line: sex is an adult thing, and don't even dare skirting the issue. Dating for me began at 15, although I didn't really date anyone anyway, so that wasn't a big deal. Honestly, I never felt like I could even approach my parents about sex, like, they've said what they expect of me and to even think about bending the rules would be blasphemy. When I got my period for the first time, it seemed to come as a big shock for my mom. For me, it was no big deal and I was glad I finally got it (I was sick of watching those feel-good, pink frilly videos called "Who Am I Now" or "Your Changing Body"). But for my mom, it was a wake-up call that I was vulernable to the unavoidable sexual culture surrounding us.

My youngest memory of sex is this: My best friend, Katie, lived across the street from me until 7th grade when she moved to Tennessee. We had sleepovers almost every weekend, and Katie, being much more advanced in the knowledge of such matters than I, frequently brought up the topic of sex. Either our Barbie and Ken would get passionate in the back of the convertible (despite their lack of genitals, they seemed to enjoy it) while we supplied the soundtrack of grunts and moans, or we'd huddle in our sleeping bags clasping my larger stuffed animals to ourselves pretending to do something we actually knew nothing about. They were always our husbands, and they always initiated it (Fivel was my hubby. Not bad for a mouse ;). I went along with this, but really I had no idea what was going on.

Prudish as I might have been in high school, in reality my mentality just wasn't ready for sex of any kind yet. It was hazy, in the distance, and I knew for certain I didn't want it. My girlfriends and I giggled conspiratorily over George Michael songs and MTV programs, but they were forbidden, and it was exciting.

Dating Dave was a bit of a wake-up call. Kissing, touching, these were all good things and I had no qualms about them. I didn't dig the whole boob-fondling thing at all- that made me extremely uncomfortable. I was almost more relaxed about the stuff below the belt than what happened to my breasts. Such close contact with a person obviously interested in me both sexually and emotionally had its effect- I began to see sex as something a little clearer, a little more desirable. There was no lack of opportunities; Dave's parents were never home when we were done with school so it was easy enough to fool around and not worry. He was extremely respectful and attentive, and I can't deny our relationship was great fun. I had no worries about compromising my reputation or my relationship by holding back. So, I did want to make that step with Dave on one level, because I knew it would be safe, but I couldn't do it, really. The more I became aware of my own sexuality, the more the world around me started to reveal the double standards and distaste that surrounded women's sexual experience. I was afraid now, of sex with Dave, because I saw what was happening to the girls around me that did go "all the way." I didn't think I could live with myself, or even respect my own decisions, if I agreed to do this. Social conditioning, perhaps, but I didn't know that at the time.

However, I can't reprimand myself for waiting. God knows, we can't start doing that. I'm proud that I couldn't be sweet-talked, or coerced, into doing anything I didn't want. I just wish the atmosphere had been more friendly, more open to my desires for knowledge. Hell, I didn't really know anything about the clitoris until my freshman year roommate, Sarah, got a book called "The G Spot" and I would surrepitously leaf through the pages desperate to learn all this that I'd been denied for so long. Living with Davis was a tremendous bonus, too, what with her Guide and her openness about such matters. Finally, I felt like I could have sex and enjoy it, understanding all the aspects of both society and science that go into our perceptions of it. Perhaps I would have felt the whole issue was easier in high school if I'd known more and been prepared to deal with it.

That being said, I'd like to hear what my generation learned about sex. Whether you went to high school with me or not, how did your perceptions about sexuality affect your adolescence? What were your experiences? Mine are limited, and condemned by the burden of my hazy memory. If you have a blog, write it there, and trackback. Or just leave a comment. C'mon, I know you all want to talk about sex. Baby.