The One Where my Mom and I Talk About Vibrators

“Can I ask you a question?” my mom asks me quietly, as I am driving us back home one night from dinner.

Here’s the thing; I don’t mind this question. Sure, it sets my teeth on edge, but I prefer this over other set ups for life altering conversations. (See: “We need to talk.” And also, “Where is this going?”) But when it comes from my mom I can ALMOST GUARANTEE some manner of inappropriateness, the likes of which I will never recover from, are likely to follow. My mama, while delightful, is notsomuch with the boundaries when it comes to me. My tactician’s mind is trying to jump a few steps ahead to see what she could POSSIBLY be about to ask me. The last time she uttered these words to me, I wound up telling her I had a girlfriend.

I need an escape plan.

“Sure you can.” Silence.
And more silence

Sweet queen Coretta.

“Do you… I mean have you… Or I guess do you…” She trails off more times than a suspect on the First 48 trying to figure out how to explain the blood on their clothes and gunpowder residue on their hands.

This is gonna be all bad everything. I can already tell.

“Do you have a vibrator?”


In my mind, I can hear the leading story on the 11 o’clock news;

An unidentified young woman slammed her SUV into a median head on while driving east on I-10 this evening, apparently in an effort to end a conversation she didn’t want to have with her mother. She pulled her mother from the car and to safety, but the retreated back to the burning SUV saying, “I can’t do this with you.” No word yet on whether or not she survived. We will have more as the story develops.

Yeah, that’s how I feel.


The thing is though; I am even more ridiculous in real life than I am online. Unlike many people, whose online personas are them on full throttle, I dial back a lot. I share what I feel comfortable with, and keep what I need to protect. In my actual life, however, I am full on, high-definition, Dolby surround sound fantastic and fuckery filled. My mama, who is NOT as ridiculous as her daughter, knows this almost as well as anyone, even without specifics. I generally try to dial down my foolishness for her. She’s my MOM. But as such, I can’t really lie to her.

Plus, I know she has already been all up and through my bedside table so, there’s no real point in trying to convince her those silver things she saw were just, um… you know… bracelets. Connected bracelets.

Continued at Liquor, Loans and Love...

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