Reservoir Mum and I have reached another crucial point in our parenting journey.
Every year added to Archie’s life makes us beginners again and now that he’s 8 we’ve decided it’s time to broach the topic of sex.
My own introduction to sex was delivered by a box of porno mags a friend and I found outside a newsagent when I was 11. When I first masturbated at age 12 and saw the end result I honestly thought I was going to die. And I thought I was going to die every night for weeks after, until I was lucky enough to hear a friend’s older brother talking about the joys of doing exactly what I was doing.
My mum bought some sex ed books for me a few years later and placed them on my pillow for me to read. By then I had seen a lot of porn, developed a variety of private sexual fantasies, and was involved in daily discussions about sex with school friends that The Australian Classification Board would have classified as WHAT THE?! I remember flicking through the books Mum left for me and being disappointed about the lack of explicit pictures.
When my mind wanders through the rest of my sexual journey, in particular those fraught adolescent years—and while holding no grudges at all against my parents—I have to wonder if I might have avoided certain mistakes, embarrassment and insecurities had I been given an earlier, more focused introduction to sex.