So I can’t remember how exactly we got on the subject but one day me and my step-son ended up talking about penises.

No, really. We did. And this just popped into my head today for no reason, so I thought I’d share.

Because I’m kooky.

Now by this time me and my hubby were very close to actually tying the knot but we hadn’t actually set about finely manipulating that cord into a proper restraining ligature just yet. But still…I’d since come to the point where I figured if the boy asked me questions I should do my best to answer them. And I wasn’t even really thinking about the Sex Talk but pretty much everything. Including, like, financial advice. Whatever. I hadn’t quite gotten bold enough to consider myself a mother figure to him yet, you understand (still don’t, really) but I had at least accepted I would soon be something of an adult female figure in his life. Or something.

Actually I’m not sure what the hell you’d call that. Step-mom, I guess.

So anyway the point is I can’t remember how in the world we ever got on that subject. I know we hadn’t been discussing anything inappropriate so that penises would just pop up. Well, I mean, so to speak.

Ah! Wait. Now I remember! We weren’t talking about penises to begin with at all. We were talking about breasts. And we’d gotten on that subject when talking about his “type”, which is to say what kind of girl he found most attractive.

And we’d gotten on that subject because I’d introduced him to the Sims game. You know the Sims, right? So I was walking him through making his own Sim and trying the game out. Then it hit me to ask whether he’d like his Sim to be married and all that or go about trying to win over one of the Sims in the game. Or even if he wanted his Sim to be married and have kids at all. Then he decided maybe he should just make a wife and start the game with her and avoid all that extra complication.

Wise, I thought. And so of course I was showing him how to do that. During the course of which I noticed he was making a dark-haired, dark complected, very exotic looking companion for his Sim.

And yes, “complected” is a word. Get over it.

That’s what led to me asking what kind of girl he liked and to him describing that to me. I admit I was surprised. I had, for some reason, assumed he would be into big-boobed, blue-eyed blondes.

No, wait. Now I remember why I assumed that. Because that’s what his father had always preferred, for about as long as I’d known him. Which has been rather forever, really. That’s since come to rub me that wrong. Being none of the above, after all.

But come to think of it, I think I did actually say something maybe inappropriate to him. Because he didn’t mess around with the girl Sim’s chest size. Which, really, if I had any sense I would have realized was most likely because I was sitting right there. Kid was trying to be respectful, after all. I’m sure if his teenage buddies had been around he’d have gone hog wild. But I do tend to be a little screwy when it comes to recognizing what is and isn’t appropriate conversation.

Only a little screwy, mind you. Enough that, in this instance, I didn’t realize he was probably just being polite. And enough that, in this instance, I didn’t stop to think maybe the thing I was about to say to him wasn’t really appropriate to say to a 12 year old boy. At the very least it would be embarrassing to him.

“Huh. I figured you’d give her big boobs. I thought all boys liked big boobs.”

Thankfully, and I am thankful, it didn’t occur to him to be embarrassed at this observation. And really I think any other time it probably would have embarrassed him. But by then he and I were still at the “friends” stage and I hadn’t quite come to be viewed as any kind of authority figure. Or maternal figure. Or whatever. So it was okay for us to joke about things like that.

Well, you understand, not at all appropriate but, as far as he was concerned, “okay”. I mean if I caught any other grown woman saying such a thing to him I’d certainly give her a hard eye about it at least, if not outright pulling her out the room for a quick adjustment. Which is why I say I should have realized this was something not to joke about with him, considering I’d snatch anyone else up for doing so. He on the other hand could laugh at me picking on him about big boobs.

So. Huh. I don’t really know if it was inappropriate or not, come to think of it.

So anyway he laughed. And he told me he wasn’t really into big boobs all that much. In fact, he didn’t really like big boobs and thought that whole thing was stupid. Naturally, my esteem for the kid only grew at this honest declaration. Because, of course, it was so honest.

And, of course, that the kid was displaying such wisdom.

But enough about how awesome he is. Because the conversation got pretty humorous to me, though I didn’t dare show it. You see, he set about explaining to me that men didn’t really care about breast size all that much. It looks nice and all, he said, even attractive. But when it came right down to it big boobs would just get in the way. So in the end it really didn’t matter. And least not to guys who had any sense about such things, anyway. Guys like, I was expected to presume, him.

Now imagine me trying really hard not to laugh out loud here. And I really don’t mean to show any disrespect whatsoever to this kid. I really do think he’s awesome. But he’s sooo twelve years old. I mean seriously dude, you don’t think I’m actually buying that you know anything about sex at all?

Or. Rather. You better not. Because seriously, dude. I doubt your father would hesitate for a second in agreeing with me about locking your little ass in the attic until you’re twenty. Not a qualm.

But I could dig it. The kid was twelve. He was not about to let on to me, of all people, that he didn’t know a thing or two. It was pretty clearly something he’d heard an older kid say and it had sounded profound to him. And so he assumed it would sound profound coming from him. And I understood that I was expected to politely overlook the fact that we both knew he was full of it. And so I did.

Besides, he was so serious about it. I just absolutely knew that this kid really wanted me to understand that big boobs weren’t that big a deal to guys. I’m quite sure he thought he was enlightening me to something really deep here. So I let it slide and just nodded encouragingly. Thanks for the heads up there, guy. I did not know that. Very illuminating.

But then it occurred to me, when I understood the revelation of wisdom he thought he was laying on me, that I should probably return the favor. So I pointed out that size wasn’t all that important to women either, though I wasn’t specific about the size of what. I mean the kid wasn’t stupid and I wasn’t about to bring the “P” word into this conversation right off the bat. But still, this got his immediate attention. Because right then I knew we’d already edged over into “the talk”. And “the talk”, I knew, was very important. Especially with twelve year old boys. I wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity to head off some of the complete stupidity his school buddies were undoubtedly going to fill his little head with over the next few years.

So I put on my best “Gimme a minute, I’m thinking real hard about what I’m about to say” face. And then I said:

“Look. I’m going to say something to you and I want you to remember that I said this. I want you to remember that I was completely honest when I said it and that I’m a grown woman and know what I’m talking about. I have absolutely no reason to lie to you and every reason to tell you the complete truth. Because you’re family to me and that means I want you to be happy. I would never lie to you about something so important. And, most importantly, if anyone ever tells you anything different you can know they’re full of it. They might well not be intentionally lying but they’ll definitely be completely wrong. Just smile, nod and file what they said away in your mental filing system under “complete crap”. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Size does not matter. It really doesn’t. No women who isn’t completely stupid, and yes there are a few completely stupid women out there but you shouldn’t be messing around with them anyway…no woman gives much of a damn how big your equipment is. That’s a guy thing, not a girl thing. Guys care how big their equipment is. Chicks don’t really give a damn. What they care about is whether you’re a big man or not. Whether you love them. Whether you’re loving and tender and affectionate and respectful and all that other girl stuff. That’s what women care about. At most some might find it exciting or sexy, like guys find big boobs sexy, but, like you said, when it comes right down to it big just gets in the way.”

“Okay.”

“You’re father already had the sex talk with you, right?”

“Yeah.”

Oh. And of course now he gets embarrassed. Because dad had The Talk with him and now I’m reminding him of that awful fact.

“And he showed you pictures I’m sure, right?”

“Yeah.” Blush.

“Alright, don’t be embarrassed. I’ll make this as quick and painless as I can, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“So you remember those pictures? And specifically you remember all the moving parts and where everything was approximately. So you remember the cervix?”

He looked a little puzzled at that one.

“Well, you can look it up in a biology book later or something. And you can look up what the cervix is for while you’re at it. The main point here is where the cervix is located. It’s about this far up in there (displaying the rough distance between two fingers for him). It varies depending on a few things but usually just a few inches at most. Which rather describes just how big a guy can be before it becomes an issue, doesn’t it?”

“Uh huh.”

“Right. So you can understand how big a guy can be without causing problems. A little stimulation of the cervix can actually be pretty nice for some women but I doubt anyone would enjoy having it beat up on a regular basis. Get me? But even beyond that, you know what the most sensitive part of the vagina is? Pretty much the opening area. Right around there. That and maybe the first inch or two inside. The deeper parts, not so much. So as long as you have pretty much anything to work with you’re good to go. See?”

“Uh huh.”

“So. When guys act like it matters you can know that’s just guys. It matters to them, not us. And when you see stupid commercials on TV with women saying it matters, you can know those women are trying to sell something. To stupid men. So don’t be a stupid man and buy into it.”

“Okay.”

“Now when you’re older and married, my good man, I’ll clue you in on what does matter to a woman. I’ll give all the details. Hell, I’ll write you a book on the subject. All I can promise you now is that size doesn’t even make the top fifty list. Trust me on this one.”

“Okay.”

“And…I’ve probably pushed you past your limit on sex ed talk today, haven’t I? But I’ll say one more thing that I think is very, very important and then we’ll end this talk, I promise. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I want you to know this. From what I’ve seen of you, and I’ve known you a while now, haven’t I? From what I’ve seen of you, you’ll make the woman you marry very happy. And I’m not just talking about sex. I’m not even talking about sex at all. I’m talking about everything else. Which, to clue you in on the things I’m not mentioning, largely covers all that stuff that does matter. So don’t you buy into the crap you’re friends are going to tell you about size being important or how to be a good lover. Be a good man, the kind of man I see you becoming, and you will be a good lover. Get me?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. That’s all I’m going to torture you with today. So you have fun. I’mma go make a sandwich or something.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

…

So. A few hours later Matthew comes and sits by.

“So…you and Jeremiah had a talk, huh?”

“Oh. Well. Yeah.”

“Uh huh.”

“Is that okay? I mean, I was serious about it. We weren’t, like, joking around or anything.”

“Okay.”

“I mean, he asked. So…I figured I’d better answer him. Right? Well, I mean he didn’t really ask. But it came up.”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh, God. You’re mad, right? It wasn’t like that, honest.”

“I know.”

“So should I have just not said anything? Or told you? Or what?”

“Oh, hell no. I wish someone had told me all that when I was twelve.”

“Oh.”

“…”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. If I knew then what I know now, right?”

“Right! Okay. Yeah, right.”

“…”

“…”

“Oh, God. I shouldn’t have said anything, huh?”

“Ha!”

“No, seriously. What was I thinking? The kid’s twelve for crying out loud.”

“He’s a good kid, Mare.”

“Yeah and now he’s a more sexually confident twelve year old good kid. Oh, God. That was just dumb.”

“Relax, I’ll have the “sex before you’re married and I’ll beat you to death” talk with him tomorrow.”

“Not funny, man.”

“You worry too much, you know that?”

“I’m not going to be a very good step-mom for your kid, Matt. I’m just not.”

“Mary, I told him the exact same thing two years ago. Ease up.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I even used the whole breasts vs. penis size thing.”

“…”

“…”

“So why the hell did we end up talking about it if you already covered this?”

“Because I’m dad. There’s a distinct possibility that I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. Dad’s don’t have and have never had actual sex. Didn’t you know that?”

“Oh, but I’ve had sex. And so he can take my advice, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, that just sucks.”

“Hey, we haven’t signed papers yet so you can still bug out if you’re scared.”

“…”

“…”

“You’re not funny. This is not a funny topic.”

“I’m finding it pretty funny.”

“Well, you suck.”

So anyway, the point is: I still married him. Even after that complete horror. Which I guess just means I really am crazy. That and Jeremiah will not be dating. Courting, yes. Dating, no. And always supervised. Period. In part because both his parents and his step-mom are all just nutz.