As I walked into the Dunkin' Donuts with my parents at either side of me, the familiar fried-dough scent quickly made its way to my nose and brought back memories of when I was younger and would have to sit there for hours listening to my parents argue and ramble about who knows what.
I played with the sprinkles on my strawberry frosted donut and sipped at my Orangina when my thumbs weren't frantically stroking the keys on my phone. My friend did the same from the West Coast. My phone chimes every time I receive a new text message and after about the 30th chime that same hour, my mom asked me who I was "chatting" with so much. I told her it was my friend and she asked me if it was the curly haired boy that kept hugging me at my graduation. It wasn't, but my mom saw this as the PERFECT opportunity to talk about sex. Of course, she didn't directly ask me if I was still a virgin (which she has tried before) but we drifted from talking about serious relationships that would or could lead to marriage to accidental pregnancies.
If you could picture a bird's eye view of the scene: my mom, my dad, and me all at one small table with crumbs strewn all around us. My mother and me gesticulating wildly, faces red in disagreement. My dad's face red with embarrassment, staring frantically out the window as if a reason for changing the subject was just past the glass. Hours passed like this. We got nowhere.
The only thing I took away from our conversation was that my mother and I disagree greatly on almost everything, and sex was no exception. The only thing that made her proud of me today was that "yes" was my answer when she asked me if I wanted to wear a white dress to my wedding. I don't think she understood, though, when she asked me if I would be having sex every night at college and I replied "not every night...". But, if I were to be deflowered before the day of my wedding, I would still wear white. I look good in white.
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