Back Story: In high school I was friends with a guy we’ll call F. F was a year ahead of me. I don’t know how I ended up in his clique, because it was the nerdy, geeky, smart clique. I’m smart, but not THAT smart. Anyway, fast forward 25 years and not only do I become Facebook friends with this guy (and his wife, whom I also knew), but my husband ends up sub-contracting with his consulting firm. It’s a weird world, people!
So, today his wife posts a picture on FB of something F gave her for Christmas–four magnets of less-than-fully-dress-hunky-guy-that-I-don’t-recognize. A little flicker of memory hits and I respond with “It reminds me of what F gave me for my 17th birthday”. Which, for everyone reading this, was a Playgirl.That his mother bought.
F then messages me with a picture of the cover from the actual magazine. I have the year wrong–it’s not 86, it’s 83. So I was FIFTEEN. And apparently returned the favor by giving him a playboy.
1. 15? What the heck was his mother thinking? If that was my child I would have smacked her silly.
2. How the heck was I able to procure a playboy to give to him? I can’t picture some store clerk selling one to a 15 year old. Maybe I looked older? Maybe I asked my friend’s mother?
3. Didn’t any of my friends think it odd that I was reading an adult pornographic magazine at 15??
4. THANK YOU, GOD, for grabbing me up out of the pit that I was entrenched in!
By 15 I had already seen a lot of pornography. I don’t remember a whole lot about the issue, other than Tommy Chong (of Cheech and Chong fame) and the fact that the centerfold had asked his parish priest if it would be ok for him to pose nude. (I don’t know what the priest was smoking for him to say yes.)
For more than 17 years I have battled this particular demon of sex addiction. It’s things like this that shout to me how lost I was in it without having any clue that I was lost.