Saturday, December 1, 2007


I casually mentioned sleeping over at Alan's to my mom. I didn't think it would be a problem--she knows we've been together for several months and she's never given me any sort of "wait for marriage" speech.

"Oh," she said, "does he have a separate room or something for you to sleep in?"

I'm usually pretty demure discussing sex with my parents, but I couldn't help giving her a look. The look you give your dad when he tells you something is "what you kids would call 'radical'."

And then it got all awkward.

(Writing this blog has changed me. A few months ago, I would've averted my gaze and stammered or made up some lie about sleeping fully clothed on the sofa. But writing about sex every day has gotten me a lot more comfortable talking about it without giggling and blushing.)

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