May 2, 2007

When I first told my parents that I was getting married, they were dubious, to put it nicely. Then they gave both The Boy and I a sheet to read of “all the things that married couples should talk about before getting married”. Any time my mother brings up our impending marriage (or impending doom, if you ask her opinion), she keeps pressing me to talk with The Boy about “The List.”

As you know (or may not) The Boy and I were both raised as Catholics. Meaning, as most religions say, pre-marital and extra-marital sex is bad news.

I guess he and I are both going to hell. Whether my parents know definitively that we are going to hell is anyone’s guess.

One of the questions goes something like this:

Do you and your partner have the same needs/desires sexually? How will you discuss your sexual needs?

So, of course, The Boy and I laughed heartily at that one. I have these weird feelings bordering between confusion and annoyance that for years she’s clung to this anti-sex-before-marriage and complete dubiousness at marrying The Boy, but suddenly thinks that it’s a fabulous idea to be discussing my sexual preferences with him on the sheer supposition that I’ve only ever seen a penis in my art anatomy books. Who exactly does she think she’s fooling? The Boy and I spent three days alone in Kentucky (what does she think we did there at night, play canasta until it was time to go to sleep in separate twin-sized beds?) And yet, even the mere thought of me living with him gives her the vapors.

But seeing as my mother seems to be “very concerned” about making sure I’m not making some huge mistake marrying The Boy, I wonder how I approach that when I finally get annoyed enough with her to tell her about the question about teh sexx0rz.

“Well, Mom, [The Boy] and I just can’t seem to agree sexually. You see, he’s really into fisting, and I really just want to do anal with a strap-on, because I’m saving my vagina for the most holy baby Jesus.”

I don’t think that would go over to well. But it warms the cockles of my heart to think about the colors she’d turn if I said it.

I’m going to edit this to add:

  • Here is where you can find the original article.
  • Here is an amusing response from a married blogger to those questions. I think I second most of her opinions, and according to my mother, I might as well be back in Kentucky, marrying my single-toothed cousin, Spud. Because that’s on par with the uneducated mistake I’m making.

So, question. Do I send the rebuttal article to my parents and risk them accusing me of acting “like a teenager”? Or do I bite my tongue and put on a Mona Lisa smile, knowing that “The List” is mostly horseshit?