The Birds And The BeesI lay on my bed and waited to die – I was almost 12.
I knew ma(sturbation) was wrong, it could make you go blind the priests told us. However, like all young boys I was a prolific w(anker) with perfect sight; priests were liars! So I carried on – until the day something so shocking happened that I prayed for blindness rather than death.
Let me explain further: one evening I came home surprised to see my Mother crying. She was moved by a TV documentary about a young boys brave battle with cancer. I watched as the Doctors searched for a life saving ‘Bone Marrow’ donor. One was found, the boy was saved and the programmed ended happily ever after.
About a week later, a Saturday afternoon, I went to my room to indulge in my naughty habit. But something was different this time – my journey to the shivery, tickly crescendo seemed amplified, more intense, and I tossed away with Olympian speed; suddenly a load of white stuff shot out of me and hit the wall. I was stunned!
What the **** was this?
The boy in the TV show needed it to be saved! And I’d just pumped the lot out of me! I should’ve listened to the priests. My parents were out – I would die alone.
My Mother arrived home a few hours later and I rushed to her. I told her of my impending death through heaving sobs – I was so sorry that my evil habit had depleted my Bone Marrow. She hugged me and I felt her shoulders shudder with grief. As she gently pushed me away, I was baffled to see her shoulders shook with mirth, her laughter almost as hysterical as my tears?
That afternoon my Mother told me all about the birds and the bees (sex education) with an honesty and openness I’d never seen in her before. Like the boy in the programme my story ended happily when I realised I had a Mother with whom I could discuss anything – I miss my Lovely Mammy so much.