The Sex Talk

Have you ever met someone and within the next three minutes known more about their life than their therapist?

That happens a lot when you work with a bunch of boomers.

Don't @ me, that's the name you gave yourselves. Not our fault you don't like your generational name being thrown back at you, like you've done to us Millennials for years.

F*ck you.

I digress.

When you work with old people, they get chatty. They don't realize just how chatty they get sometimes. I've been told some seriously disturbing things over the years by the boomer generation.

One woman came in and complimented a shirt I was wearing that was yellow.

"What a lovely blouse, dear." She smiled big and bright at me.

"Thank you, Dana." I smiled and straightened the blouse a bit.

"My mother was murdered while wearing her yellow Sunday dress in 1963. I found her lying in a pool of blood in the kitchen. I was about 4 and apparently I didn't talk for a month. But what can you do? Being a black woman in the South, at least it was quick." She turned and looked at me. "What do you think of that?"

...

What am I supposed to say to that?

I AM ASKING BECAUSE I DIDN'T.

Fell deathly silent is what I did. What did I do? I gave my condolences and patted her hand.

"It's fine, hun. Death comes for us all." She smiled took a chocolate out of a free candy jar. "What are they serving for lunch today at the food court? I suddenly have a hankering for BBQ."

I haven't been able to wear yellow since then.

Next up, we have the time a man came into my office and sat down. I did not know this man.

"Can I help you?" I asked politely.

"I was wondering what your thoughts on Hitler are?" HE frowned and crossed his arms.

...what fresh hellish alternate reality have I awoken to that day?

"That he was a bad guy that got what was coming to him." I answered slowly.

He nodded, got up and left.

I have never seen this man since then.

The topper though, is last week when a woman came in and we met over some minor office maintenance details.

"So, hows the love life?" She asked me.

"Its dull but I don't want to date during a global pandemic anyway." I answered back.

"I get that. I lost my virginity in 1967 and the condom broke and I got pregnant." She said so nonchalantly that I thought for a moment she might've been giving a bored coffee order instead of that little factoid.

"Ohhhh." I said slowly.

"My mother called me damaged goods and tried to send me off to one of those farms where you'd give birth and give up the baby for adoption but I ran away and got a job at the post office." She grinned and leaned back in her chair.

She was getting comfortable.

One very, very long story later. I knew all her past husbands, how they didn't please her, how they beat her which she explained while eating a bag of chips.

"My current husband I've been married to the longest, 20 years and he's only five years older than me. We're not in love but we're comfortable room mates. With an occasional orgasm, what more can a woman want, right?" She smiled and laughed.

I was politely laughing along but I just wanted to die.

I went home that night and poured a glass of wine and just sank to the floor.

Knowledge can be a curse in some cases.

Oh, did I mention the time a woman came in and tried to show me her hysterectomy scar?

Yeup, This woman who I knew fairly well, she helped me out a few times during some events, she came in one day waiting for her husband and we were chatting. I had recently had four biopsies done on my body so I couldn't get comfortable since they were primarily on my stomach. I kept shifting in my seat and she asked me what was wrong.

"Oh, I just got a couple biopsies done. No biggie." I filed a few papers and went back to working on the computer.

"I just had a hysterectomy last month and it was brutal." I turned around and she was lifting up her mu-mu.

I was horrified.

"NO NO no, I don't need to see it." I practically shouted ad held my arms in front of my face.

She rolled her eyes do hard I thought they'd get stuck facing her brain.

"Jesus Christ, it's not like you don't see a vagina every day." She stood up and stomped away from me and never spoke to me again.

And I'm not mad at that.

Who does that? Who just lifts up their mu-mu to showcase their vajay-jays to other people they don't know? I didn't want to see no damned hysterectomy scar. Damn.

There are people who have never met a stranger, people who are sweeter than sugar cane. I know and love a couple of those kinds of people, and they'd never lift up their skirts without asking if we at that friendship comfort level.

Then there are people who give way too much information out of f*cking nowhere and expect you to be be okay with that and reciprocate with information of equal value.

I once had a woman come up to me and practically rip my skirt off because she heard it had pockets. She pawed at my skirt even though I told her to stop touching me to find the pockets.

Why?

Why are people like this?

I'm an introvert, I keep to myself and my head down. I'm not affectionate, I'm not into PDA, I'm shy. I read my books, I draw, I do my work and I work well. I'm one of those people who had terrible experiences with people violating my trust and now I'm closed off to people I don't know.

That's not to say that I'm always like that.

Me and my sister have gone out and danced on table tops and drank and stumbled to hotels and traveled. I can tell jokes and funny stories to a group of friends and be outgoing when I feel comfortable.

So, don't assume someones uptight just because they keep to themselves.

And don't try to share a sex story unless they ask. Don't be that person that over shares and becomes the punchline to a satire article.