I’m spending a few days at my parents’ house. Much like the spring break days of old, I’m chillin’ with the people who are required by law and by Jesus to hang out with me. It’s no Cancun, but I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna get roofied. And we’re having fun.
Tonight, the conversation wended its way back, as it does, to the time my great-grandma broke her ribs “roughhousing” with her boyfriend. My mom still contends that he just squeezed her too tight, but, well, it’s not like my mama is actively searching for the truth on this one.
And when the conversation turns to grandmas and doin’ it, of course I had to share a conversation I had with My Guy’s grandma. I mean, just to contribute to the discourse.
See, My Guy’s grandma has lost any filter she might have ever had. (See also: her obsession with diarrhea.) I love to get her talking because you just never know what’s going to come out of her mouth. So, when she got to talking about marriage, well … it was fantastic. She was off and running.
Grandma: Well, now, people back then didn’t live together, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have sex. We had lots of sex, but I just didn’t know what it was! I had no idea what Harold was doing down there, but then, well, I got pregnant and we had to get married.
It was at this point that I wanted to talk to her about how scary that must have been, and learn more about her experience. But there was no time for my silly queries – she was on a roll.
Grandma: I never much cared for sex. It was just what you had to do for your husband and to have babies.
Interesting, but totally fitting with that time. But no time to talk about the evolution of women’s sexuality because …
Grandma: Now, Harold, he loved big titties. I never had ’em, but boy, he loved this girl in 4-H who had boobies like firm apples. She had some titties on her! He loved those titties, but, you know, he married me.
It was about this time that my husband and my MIL completely lost control of themselves and quite forcefully changed the topic. Honestly, I was a little disappointed … and a little inspired.
If I were old and completely without a filter, I’d probably a) cuss like a sailor at all times because it’s fun; and b) stretch the truth and talk about my hedonistic college days and my quest to kiss a boy from every fraternity in my alma mater’s large Greek system. (I didn’t succeed, but in my filterless and truth-stretching golden years, the story will evolve so that I completed the challenge – twice – with only somewhat bruised lips and a reputation not as a hussy, but as a campus queen.)
What would you talk about with abandon if you had no filter?