No, not that word.  The other one.  The one with three letters.  I’ve always wanted to write about sex on this blog, but I haven’t quite been sure how.  It just seems a little… too awkward?  Too personal?  Sex is something that (usually) happens between two people, so the details don’t even seem squarely mine to discuss.  Yet, I think it’s a vital part of living fully.  And I think it’s something that’s definitely not discussed enough.

But it seems scary to write about.

Which is exactly my problem…  If I feel like something is scary to write about, I immediately can’t stop thinking about how to do it!  I was mulling this over the other day, but how explicit can one get when one’s own mother reads this blog?!  (Hi, mom.)  That’s when I realized it’s probably easiest if I start off by telling sex stories about my mom.

I actually happen to have two that have occurred in the past few months.  (Who said there aren’t perks to moving closer to your family?)  I’ll start with the first, which was a conversation about our new mattress…

Mom:  How do you like your new mattress?

Me:  It’s good.  It’s really firm, but we like that.  We need to get a new duvet soon, though, we’re too cold.

Mom:  And maybe you should get a mattress cover.

Me:  You mean to make it more comfortable?

Mom:  Yeah, it can make it more comfortable, but it also protects it a little.

Me:  You mean from, like, if you sweat in your sleep?

Mom:  Yeah, or if you have sex.

Um, right.  Thanks, mom, for the important reminder that one should never be having sex without protection… for one’s mattress.