"Virginity" by Mr. Banana Hammock (not Omari)

Your daily Omari...

According to CNN this morning, a leading group of pediatricians says that teenagers need access to birth control and emergency contraception, not the abstinence-only approach to sex education favored by religious groups and President Bush. Apparently, there is evidence that “does not support abstinence-only interventions as the best way to keep young people from unintended pregnancy." No shit.

When I was in High School, our sex education class was taught along side driver’s education. It was taught by a man, I cannot remember his name, who gave women in the class this sage advice which I remember to this day: “Ladies. Keep a dime pressed between your knees during the date and no monkey business can occur.” Of course being the smartass that I am, I raise my hand. He calls on me. I say, “Nah. You can always ‘flip’em over and go in from behind.’” I somehow still got my driver’s permit.

Curiously, when I made that rather astute observation I was a virgin. Yep, even Mr. Banana Hammock was a virgin once. While I didn’t have access to real women, what I did have access to was a friend whose father had a vast collection of Playboy magazines, so I was at least familiar enough with the female anatomy to get figure out how things worked. That and my father was an OB/GYN. Not only did I know at a very early age how babies were made, I also was the neighborhood kid who told all the other kids where babies really came from. I was much loved by their parents.

In High School women scared the shit out of me, and to a certain extent, they still do. When I did lose my virginity I had this great plan for the evening. Friend’s parents were going out of town. Girlfriend and I were going to smoke some weed, drink a little beer, and then go at it like the raging hormonal teenagers that we were. Which we did. Unfortunately my mother caught wind of the fact that the friend’s folks were going to be out of town and said I had to come home by curfew. I was an hour late. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I turn the knob to the door in garage leading into the house. As soon as I quietly close said door, the lights go on, and my mother is standing at the end of the hallway. She doesn’t look very happy. With disdain she said, “you smell like sex” before turning around and slamming the door to her bedroom.

Scarred for life? Probably.



He gets letters:

"You are hilarious. That is all I have to say."

"hello, I like you. You are funny. We should talk!!!!"