I tend to believe information that’s given me without prompting. Remember that so-called ‘sex education’ in Form 1, Parkway Intermediate – the school that’s not there in name anymore? There was some kind of communication between the ‘imported tutors’ and my parents. My gigantic teeth made me pretty obvious, it wouldn’t be hard to work out who I was.
It was imparted to my parents that I had some kind of aversion to talking about sex. I can’t imagine where they got that impression from? It was a case of not being allowed to talk about sex, not a case of not wanting to! Apparently these ‘imported tutors’ did the same with all the boys with me, or I with them, they wrote to their parents to get permission to have us individually instructed. I don’t know how they identified the other boys?
Just imagine a sea of bloody girls asking benign and stupid questions and hogging all the space, with a few boys splattered round the outside trying to get noticed! That was my impression.
There was no conversation between my parents and myself about all this at the time, this is information I got when I was adult, and the butt of of my parents jokes at their dinner parties. They thought all this was a big joke. Pity they couldn’t see my point of view? My relationship with them was strained at best, and it never was anything different, so that was our ‘normal.’
Anyway, the permission was given and a date was set for a Psychologist to interview me at Parkway Intermediate, ascertain what I knew, and fill me in on the blanks. How about it’s all a blank, I knew nothing!
I thought I was in deep shit, I only ever got called to the Principal’s Office when I was in deep shit, but usually I knew about it, this time I was dumbfounded. What had I done?
[That picture is what I looked like at 12/13. You can see I’m really not good at smiling, but that was my hair length and skin tone, and bodily proportions. I’m not the classic XXY guy suffering from undiagnosed seminiferous tubule dysgenesis! I’m not supposed to be wearing it, but that is my school uniform jersey.]
The Psychologist was a man, I forgot his name, but he wanted me to call him by his first name. That made me feel important. He started talking about all sorts of things not related in any way to sex. I was supposed to stop him at any time I was confused about anything, he even offered me a cup of tea! That’s really unusual. If I wanted anything I was just to ask, I thought (crap, what bullshit, this guy must want something? 🙂 ) He didn’t actually say “I’m here to talk to you about sex.” If people don’t tell me exactly what they mean, exactly in the manner I’m supposed to receive it, I don’t know what they’re talking about. I don’t get hints!
Remember my parents knew all about this interview, they KNEW what was happening, and they said NOTHING, they were really good at saying NOTHING.
I think when parents know someone is going to talk to boy in puberty about sex, they really should make sure the boy is not in school uniform at the time. The boy should be wearing clothing that allows for expansion, school uniform does not do that. School uniform is most uncomfortable.
Then he asked me about how I got ready for bed and what I wore? Who the hell wants to know that? This is a weird conversation. This guy’s more disorganised in his mind than I am. I already knew I was weird, I’d been weird all my life to that date, as life turned out nothing changed. Then he got a book out with pictures in it, of naked people, just a glance and I was stiff as a board, squirming round in my chair trying to get comfortable. This is not fair. This is torture. Then I remembered ‘If you want anything just ask?’ “Please Sir, I need to have a pee?” I asked. I didn’t but I really needed to get out of there, I had to make adjustments.
I was very interested in finding out more about that book, and I bolted for the nearest loo, that the students used, I’d never consider using a loo in the main office. What if someone saw me go in or come out, how would I explain that? Nah I’d never do that, that would be way too risky! I hated having to explain myself, I always seemed to get it wrong.
In the BBC “Human Body” documentary the teenage boys they interview mentioned they had ‘spontaneous erections at school’ and explained how they tucked their penis under their belt. That was exactly my plan. But school uniform shorts don’t allow for that kind of adjustment just by folding ones legs, and having a discreet manual shifting. Nope I needed to undo my belt all together, to achieve the desired result.
Having made the necessary rearrangement I bolted just as quickly back to the Principal’s Office. This guy had information and I wanted it. He wasn’t there, nobody was there. The place was empty. This has been happening all my life. Get me all excited about something then cut me off! Those mysterious tears welled up again. Where had he gone? I couldn’t be bothered going back to class, and I didn’t care if I got strapped for leaving early, but I did leave early. I’d had enough of people. I walked to my favourite half built house as tears just poured out of my eyes, I couldn’t be seen like this. I even left my bag and favourite jacket behind.
The big joke for my parents was, he decided to go for a pee too, if I’d waited 2 more minutes the conversation would have continued. That’s how it worked out to be my fault, again. The recommendation of the Psychologist was that I just wasn’t ready to talk about sex, but he was sure I was a “likable fellow” and I’d get there eventually. Little did he know!