I’m going to go out on a limb and tell you everything I know about sex in 500 words.
I’m convinced that little boys and little girls have sexual feelings when they are quite young. My first girlfriend and I shared juicy kisses when we were barely 5 years old, which led to regular meetings in her basement, where we played doctor nonstop for hours.
I can’t recall ever being instructed in how to play doctor. We must be born with these basic medical instincts. My companion and I re-invented the concept of practicing medicine whenever we snuck off to the basement for Anatomy 101. It was only a year later that we secluded ourselves in a bathroom for our first totally nude show-and-tell. I showed and she told.
Fast forward to the fourth grade. I remember a small girl the boys called “Sooty.” She was dirty and unclean from head to toe — and there was little doubt that this quality came from deep within her. Everything she did, said or thought was somehow seen as evidence of her wantonness. Rumors flew like mosquitoes over a hot swamp, and a handful of boys distinguished themselves as imaginative liars. Gullible as I was, I believed them, convinced I was the only virgin in the fourth grade.
In the sixth grade, certain girls started sprouting chest bumps, but they seemed to be misplaced, usually riding suspiciously high. Certain boys also started sprouting bumps lower down, which by seventh and eighth grade became problematical when the teacher called us to the front of the classroom for blackboard exercises.
My older brother, Mike, a senior in high school, told me about the birds and the bees about this time. We shared a bedroom, and late night conversation about sex felt like cram