Sexting

When I was a young girl, our way of letting a boy know we had a crush on him was to:

Pass a note to a girlfriend hoping she would let someone know who could pass the information along to him.
Or, call his house and hang up. This usually happened during sleepovers.

We did not have caller ID. Many of us still had party lines. Even so, teenagers are usually pretty transparent and it's not hard to figure out who has a crush on whom.

Technology has given us many gifts but it has also opened Pandora's box. A survey discussed on morning television today cited that one in five teenage girls admits to sending nude or semi-nude photos of herself to a boy. Apparently, boys are also photographing and posting their private parts.

I can be self-righteous about this because I have never done it and will never do it. But even in my carefree, pre-Internet, pre-social networking and naive days, I NEVER would have allowed a nude photo of myself. Even I was smart enough to realize there would still be negatives that could be redeveloped. There would still be break-ups where people forgot to gather the incriminating evidence.

What seems like a joke, a funny stunt or a dare can become life altering. I would hate to see a loved one denied law school admission because of some slutty photos on My Space. I would hate to see the look on the groom's face when his "friends" show him the wild and reckless days of the bride. I would hate to sit in a job interview and realize the person I am asking to hire me has seen me nude because he's linked in. This all happens. Seemingly, every day.

I've only recently learned to text. Once again, I'm way behind. Once again, I'm glad.

Are You a Prude?

Prude: (noun) a person of extreme or exaggerated propriety concerning behavior or speech, one who is easily shocked by sexual matters.

I'm trying to decide if I am one. As usual, I'm in the middle.

I think whatever happens in your bedroom or your sex life is your business. Unless I've known you for several decades, I will be uncomfortable discussing it. Sex scenes in movies or tv shows don't bother me nearly as much as violence, blood and gore -- but sometimes it's too much.

It may be the "in thing" to have a dancing pole or some other apparatus in the bedroom. I have a basket with dog toys. We do not have a stash of X-rated movies. If one of us has muscle pain, Ben Gay might come into play but it's not an aphrodisiac. It's soothing and comforting. It's a spouse saying, "I want to help you feel better."

Dirty jokes don't shock me. I will giggle, even if it's a shaggy dog story that lasts forever. I am a prude about religious or ethnic jokes -- they're not funny to me and I am militant enough to take a stand. Even if it means simply applying my mean face.

Cleaning Up

Do you ever read those magazine articles that encourage you to scatter rose petals in the effort to be romantic? (They tend to do this a lot in movies.) My immediate reaction is: Someone has to clean that up.

Over the years, I've tried to control my temper and my mouth. When hateful things are said, someone may clean it up but the stain remains.

As a child, I got myself in a pickle more than once. My parents always told me, "Clean it up."

I've cleaned up after the husband, the baby and the daughter. I've cleaned up after dogs. I've cleaned up after my own bad choices. I've spent many hours cleaning up after the oldies.

My current favorite tip is satin sheets, chocolate sauce, whipped cream, etc. I don't own satin sheets. If I did, I would not want them covered in chocolate and cream. Call me a fuddy duddy, but I figured out long ago who gets to clean up.

On a Stick

There's a line in the movie Sweet Home Alabama," where a childhood friend greets Reese Witherspoon. He says, "You look like sex on a stick in that dress." We should all be so lucky. I have embraced this phrase in my vernacular.

I've seen oldies on a stick. Lots of times.
I see a maniac with a stick every time the dog runs through the back yard.
Sometimes I tell the husband, "You are meanness on a stick." He looks at me as if I just blew in from Pluto.

It's warm and I'm gearing up for patio and barbecue time. Food on a stick!