Son? The fuck are you doing on here? And why was there a hairbrush in the garbage can in your room this morning?
One day, some years ago, in a random, mundane conversation, my dad told me that back before I was born my mom loved being talked dirty to. He seemed honestly surprised, God the fuck knows why, that I didn't want to hear that. I think he wanted to tell someone that story and I was there to hear it - that's the only reason I can think of that he's lately been calling and torturing me with admonishments to watch Glenn Beck and "wake up to what's ruining America". I'm torn between which is worse. But I know what's worse than both combined - the horror my brother saw walking in on my mom and step dad about 15 years ago. He was 11. That's as much detail as I have, and it's all I want to know.
I hope you all realize that if you weren't a C-section birth, your genitals have made contact with your mom's genitals. Sweet dreams ass holes.
I have a little sister because the family station wagon broke down in Bumfuckville, Georgia on our way to our summer vacation spot. We had to spend the night at some sketchy motel waiting for repairs and while me and my other sister were asleep, sister #2 happened. Parents were even going to name her Savannah. While we were in the room. Unforgivable.
I was conceived by artificial insemination from a donor, so I only get weirded out by conception stories when I see a turkey baster. My parents had a rather reserved relationship, and downright frosty at times. I'll never forget one night, though, when I was about 15. Our family room was right next to mom's bedroom. Dad's bedroom was at the other end of the house (make of that what you will, and you'll probably be right). They'd been outside having a few wines after dinner, and I was inside watching tv. Mom comes wandering through the family room, looking rather glassy and not walking straight. She goes into her room and shuts the door. Five minutes later, Dad comes walking through. He says to me, "Your mother's not feeling well. I'm going to look after her" and goes in. He then proceeds to start "looking after her" in a rather loud and obvious way. I retreated very quickly to my bedroom and played some loud music whilst scrubbing my mind. I don't know what they did for the rest of the night, but I sure as hell didn't leave my room until morning.
I never had 'the talk' personally (I don't know if it's just me, but I think it's a less common thing over here anyway), nor did I ever walk in on my parents going at it, that I can remember. However, when I was around 10 I did find my parents porn collection. What really scarred me wasn't so much the porn, but the fact that it was porn involving obviously fake blondes with ridiculously fake breasts. I think this is what gave me my general dislike for my step-father. Oh, there was a vibrator in there, too, covered in tons of prickles near the base.
I was an accident, I know that much about my conception and so far have managed to avoid hearing anything more.
*Sigh* Why not. I didn't know my biological father, so when I graduated college I decided to try and look him up. I got the number for the company he used to work for from my mother. Surprise: still worked there. Well that was easy. A short awkward silence on the phone..."Well come on down son!" Total good old boy, we drank some beers and traded stories...played some pool - all in all just a really down to earth nice guy. I'm happy with that. To the point though, he did decide to share a few stories with me...I guess because that's the closest thing he could talk about that we really had in common. "You're mother and I were at the lake, I was cooking beans and it started raining hard. I had my duster pulled around me and my hat down low trying to keep the fire going. She was in the back of my truck with the camper shell on to stay out of the wet. She was watching me out there, and said 'How are you doing cowboy?' Just like that she pulled me in, and now you're here!" ....Let's recap shall we, the first time I ever met my biological father I find out I was conceived in the back of a pickup truck parked in front of a lake, in the rain, over a steaming pot of beans. I can't say it bothered me - honestly if I had to choose that's as good a story as most.
The universe did not exist until immediately after I was born. Fossils, lightwaves from across the galaxy, my grandparents...all put here by God to fool me into thinking my parents had sex and that I came out of my mom's vagina. But I know the truth. Well...at least my crazy religious actually brings me some inner peace. I've wondered though, for married couples, how do they know when their child was conceived? Has their marriage gotten into such a rut that if you give them a week window, they can figure out the one time they had sex? That's a sad thought.
It can be. A few years back a friend of mine turned up to lunch with myself and a few other guys looking extremely happy. We asked him why, to which he responded, "I got sex this morning." Apparently he got up and on his way out of the bedroom his wife told him to "take off his pants and come back to bed". We laughed our asses off at him and told him there's only one reason his wife would have done that. Nine months later we were proved right.