When I was in high scholl, once both my brothers had moved out to college and beyond, my father wanted to save money in the winter and closed off our attic bedroom. I slept on the pull-out couch in the “TV” room, which was next to my parents’ bedroom.
The house was a two-bedroom bungalow so, technically, that TV room was meant to be a bedroom. But it had our parakeet and a television so I didn’t even move in. The upside was close proximity to the only bathroom.
This sleeping arrangement was mostly fine, but one evening my parents went to a party and my father came home drunk. If this were a James Joyce short story, he would have gotten angry and beaten me for letting the fire go out. If this were a Ray Carver short story, he would have gotten sullen and depressed, and wandered out the patio behind the garage where he’d spend the night contemplating the clouds passing in front of stars in the night.
But here in my story, it turns out my father was in a rare good mood. Festive, one might say. Perhaps it was because he had gotten through the party without causing a ruckus or starting a fist fight. Whatever the reason, it turned out he was horny. I had been asleep when they arrived but my father came into my room, rattled the birdcage, and asked the parakeet, “Hey Birdie, you want to get laid?”
That was my clue he was horny.
As I mentioned, the “TV” room shared a wall with my parents’ bedroom, and I listened to the noise of their lovemaking.
It was something of a hostage situation. Had I gotten up and ran up to the attic, it’s likely I’d tip them off that I heard “it.” Then we’d both know that they had sex.
But by holding a pillow over my head to dampen the noise, I could at least face my breakfast of Cheerios in the morning pretending that nothing happened.
I still think I made the right choice. “It” seemed to take forever but, really, it was six or seven minutes in heaven, as they say.
I won’t go into detail. What I’ve learned over the years about the art of lovemaking is that it’s kind of unique for each couple as they figure out what their “art” is, and there’s no reason to judge it as long as everybody is happy. Solo artists are also unique but tend to be repetitive in their work. I can’t imagine what it’s like with more than two people and, honestly, I don’t fantisize about it. Again, whatever floats your boat.
At that point, I knew next to nothing about sex.
My father had given me a rather unceremonious sex talk when I turned 12. In fact, I remember it word for word: “A man has a penis and a woman has a vagina. The man sticks the penis in the vagina and that’s how babies are made.”
There was a class in fifth or sixth grade that was roughly the same content as what my father offered, but at school they had anatomical charts with dotted lines defining the naughty bits. And in ninth grade health class, Mr. McDonnell did his best to elaborate on sex without ever telling us what it’s like to listen to your parents sexing.
Why am I thinking of this now?
I’m having trouble sleeping lately. I’ve always been a bi-phasic sleeper, which means I wake up after two or three hours and it may take a while to fall asleep again. If I’m lucky, I have time for a third sleep session (tri-phasic!) but that’s pretty rare.
And when I have trouble sleeping, I inevitably think about that one time I wish to my god and all that is holy that, somehow, I had stayed asleep that one night back in high school.
But I’m glad they still did it. So may we all.
Meanwhile, at My Writing Desk…
The past week was spent mostly on a personal essay. It’s a new skill for me and stretches my abilities. The writing class on humorous essays ended last night, which is why this Picayune is a day late. Bottom line: writing is hard. You have to really enjoy this stuff to keep doing it.
Upcoming Books and Stuff
I’m celebrating the publication of a humor piece in Little Old Lady Comedy:
Our Ride or Die Pledge has been Revised. Please Read Carefully.
Maybe You’d Like
I’m teaming up with other mystery and crime authors for a promotion:
Back to School, Back to Basics: Gritty Thrillers, Suspense & Mystery Novels
Click here to check out the covers, which are fun!
Next Picayune
Next time, I’ll have another humor piece to share and another story about friends, memories, and good times.
Thanks for reading the Mickey Picayune. All the best,
–mickey