Nine Seven SEX.

The first time I saw a naked woman, I was only in the third grade.

In life, there's a time and place for everything, a natural point when we're ready to gain knowledge of certain things. If it was difficult when I was growing up for adults to keep a lid on certain things, I can't imagine how hard it must be for parents today. Kids are exposed to so much before they're even teenagers, and I think the days of mom or dad sitting down to have “the talk” with Jimmy or Jenny are long gone. It's a challenge some parents would put off as long as possible, while others would wait for teachers to solve for them. My parents faced it sooner than they were prepared for, and it was awkward and embarrassing for all involved.

One day, a little girl (successfully) tried to increase her popularity in my elementary school by bringing in a stack of her father's Playboy magazines. I wandered over to a crowd gathered around her desk, and overheard one of the boys, sounding very impressed, use the phrase, “spread eagle in a bathtub”. I was certain they were looking at wildlife photos, and I was a big fan of Ranger Rick Raccoon. I had stacks of that magazine at home myself, but I hadn't come across an article about someone bringing an exotic bird into the house. I wondered if it was a National Geographic she'd brought in. I craned my neck to see, found a break in the crowd to squeeze through, and saw that I was way, way off. On that day I learned real women were more anatomically correct than the girl next door's Barbie® dolls, which answered a LOT of questions I'd had while raising others.

Pandora's box had been opened. And, not long after, another classmate would make a startling discovery about an automated phone system. By changing some digits ever so slightly, the weather hotline became a recorded sex message. In other words, if one called 976-3X3X to get the weather, 976-2X2X was something altogether different. I was sure he was lying though, and a few of the other boys were skeptical as well. There was only one way to be sure, and later when I was home and my parents weren't around, I dialed the number. On the other end was a VERY friendly librarian who was eager for me to check her out. I think I understood the gist of the message, though some of the actions described made little sense to me. I probably called back two or three times to make sure I understood.

The next day at lunch, everyone gathered to compare notes. One or two guys pretended they had called to fit in, but those of us who called for real knew what she said and spotted the fakers pretty quickly. It was one of the rare times in elementary school that I was actually part of an “in” crowd. Maybe I didn't have cable, and maybe I hadn't seen all the movies most of the other kids had, but now I could join in the conversations. Like office workers gathering around the water cooler to discuss their favorite television show, we gathered to compare notes about this new phenomena. Who knew the telephone hid such treasures? Of course, being 9 or 10, we quickly grew bored and life went back to normal in a few days. I'd only listen to two more calls that week. One was a nurse who bet her patient was naked under the sheets and won, and the other was a teacher who taught me some very special lessons. After I lost interest, I forgot I'd even made the phone calls. There were many things I didn't know about when I was a kid, and phone bills were unfortunately among them.

A few weeks later, oblivious to the storm on the horizon, I was playing in my room when I heard my mom call my dad into the kitchen, and ask him about some expensive charges to a 976 number. She didn't recognize it, nor did he, so she called the phone company to find out what it was. By the time I heard her ask the operator, “It's a WHAT?!” I was already out the door. A few tense moments passed as I sat on the lawn idly pushing a toy dump truck back and forth. I heard the screen door open and close, saw two shadows fall across me. I sensed that this was going to be bad, but they were surprisingly calm. They asked if I had made the calls, and I nodded without lifting my head, unable to look them in the eye. My mom went on to explain that it was wrong, that they weren't very nice women, and that I should never do that again. I mumbled an acquiescence and an apology, still not looking up. After an eternal awkward silence, the shadows were gone.

We never spoke of the incident again except for one other time, a few days later. We were going for one of our family drives, and I was lying across the back seat reading a comic book as always. I wasn't really listening to my parents, but in hindsight I can imagine them whispering, maybe my mom prodding my dad to say something. All I remember is him nervously asking, out of the blue, “So--so what...what kind of things did they say?” I told them I didn't remember and said I was trying to read. I'd say that was the closest we ever came to “the talk”. Classmates and biology teachers filled in the rest of the blanks by the time I was in middle school.

If I'm ever lucky enough to have kids, I know this is something I'll have to deal with someday. With the internet in the mix, all the parental controls in the world won't change the fact that the questions will be raised sooner, rather than later. Hopefully, when the time comes, I'll have better answers.