Birds and bees in the ‘burbs
IN AMERICA, EVERY marriage is a cliffhanger. Mine more than most. So enough with all this sex-in-the-suburbs stuff, it’s making me uncomfortable.
But before we move on to more substantive issues -- sports, TV, home repair -- let’s drop by the local elementary school, where several of the moms are pre-screening the 5th-grade puberty video. Seriously. They’re just making sure it’s appropriate for their little Einsteins.
Turns out, the film is tame enough, a look at how boys and girls develop as they near junior high school: more hair, more hips, more attitude -- the human trigonometry of early adolescence.
Yet, from some of the questions they’re asking, the moms themselves are a little confused. From what my buddy Paul tells me, the film raised many issues that the moms still don’t fully understand: You mean that’s there? I thought it was over there. That gland does what? Ewwwwwwww.
Bartender!
Which brings up the question: Just how much should you tell a grown woman about sex? In my experience, I find that simple, honest answers work best. They’re just curious, most of them. And they welcome the chance to learn.
So here, for suburban mothers everywhere, is a short primer on human sexuality. It will answer most of the basic questions concerning how we grow and reproduce. Individual results may vary.
Where do babies come from?
I wasn’t completely sure, so I Googled this question. A website explained that a sperm cell comes from Daddy and the egg cell comes from Mommy. In a little animated scenario, the sperm cell looked sort of like a serpent and the egg cell looked sort of like Cameron Diaz.
Except the egg cell seemed smarter than Diaz, know what I’m saying? Poor kid couldn’t act her way out of a parking ticket.
How do the egg and the sperm get together?
Sometimes, preferably within the boundaries of marriage, a woman will drink too much wine and get a little careless. The man will hold the woman very close. A little too close. Too close for comfort, to be perfectly honest.
There will be lots of panting, cursing, kicking, gasping and grunting. Then they will have sex. Then their mortal souls will meld into one.
How long does all this usually take?
Including melding, about seven minutes.
What happens next?
Soon, a little seed begins to grow in the woman’s tummy. She will feel a little woozy during breakfast, a little cranky at dinner. The woman will miss what we call her “menstrual cycle” -- not an exercise bike, like it sounds, but rather a monthly personality enhancement that makes her behave very much like Goldilocks on meth.
Sensing something is wrong, the woman will see her doctor, who will confirm that her husband indeed held her a little too close.
Over the next few months, she will put on -- no kidding -- like 300 pounds. Her fanny alone will grow to the size of a mid-priced Lexus. Yet, her face and hair will never look better, which is all men really care about anyway.
Nine months later, a tiny baby is born. It’s a miracle, really.
Does having children affect a marriage?
Not really.
Some busy couples set aside one night a week for romance. Is this wise?
Experts have a term for this: pathetic.
Intimacy shouldn’t be programmed. It should be the byproduct of a loving and stable marriage. It should be spontaneous. A small gesture. A loving look. A grope. A diamond bracelet.
Many women insist a sense of humor is the ultimate turn-on. Me, I’ve said lots of funny stuff. And not once has it caused a woman to look longingly into my eyes and finger the buttons on her blouse. All they do is laugh.
What else can be done to spice up a marriage? Victoria’s Secret?
Sadly, Victoria has no more secrets. She used to. She used to be a nice girl -- remembered other people’s names, sent little notes, never missed a birthday. Now she’s a total tramp. But she stays busy.
So, yes, buy as much lingerie as you possibly can.
My husband is such a pig he actually oinks ...
Honey, please get off my computer.
Your wife must be a real saint?
Yep. My little Deuce McAllister.
Chris Erskine can be reached at chris.erskine@latimes.com. His MySpace address is myspace.com/chriserskine.
