Dear Rockstar,
Recent conversation your parents had about sex:
“Are you bored yet?”
“No…. You?”
“No…… For future reference then…
My colleagues told me there’s a swingers’ club in Hong Kong.”
“Oh. Do we have to commit, or can we just go for a drink and a look-see?”
“I heard they’re really exclusive. Quality control.”
“Oh… So do people expect you to actually swing?”
“I was thinking I can’t get in. Too fat.”
“Oh.”
Because Mummy wrote about cheating and topless girls in Til Death Do Us Part. We Hope. (Part 1), Mummy thought it significant to also mention she saved A Big Thing til after she was married before God. (Elvis was kind of a bonus.)
Shock! Horror! Your mother believes in Saving Something For Marriage.
(Something. Not Everything. Mummy is not unreasonable.)
Mummy was an advocate of abstinence (and also contraception but how she feels about Bristol Palin is another story) long before she became Christian. Your father is the 10th guy she dated but no one, regardless of race or religion, ever made her do anything she wasn’t comfortable with, bless them.
Mummy believes in waiting for marriage because she wanted to be sure whoever she spent the rest of her life with would be the Best She Ever Had.
At risk of sending you into therapy some day, Mummy has to point out that unlike the recent rise and affirmation of the asexual, it’s not that she doesn’t like sex. She didn’t want to risk Mr-Total-Jerk-But-Good-In-Bed killing her experience with Mr-Worth-Having-His-Babies. There’s a practical reason the Bible tells us no sex before marriage.
Forever and ever being turned on by one person is a tall order by any standards.
No, it wasn’t easy. Mummy and her close-girlfriends-from-back-then all vowed to do it, but Mummy was Last Virgin Standing. By a long shot. And the prospect of being a virgin in your 30s kinda sucked, even in Mummy’s day.
Despite She of the Pointy Bra’s best efforts.
It didn’t help that, between boyfriends, Mummy allowed herself to be picked up by Mr Creepy in City Hall MRT, Singapore, and over drinks at nearby Raffles Hotel was subjected to:
“What sign are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Come on, what sign are you?”
“Virgo.”
“Virgo, the virgin, I sure hope you’re not.”
Oh, yuck.
So, bearing in mind “something” and “marriage” (committed relationship?) distinctions probably have more and more wiggle room nowadays, save Something for Marriage.
Your parents’ Pastor Brett is a pretty cool guy. He even speaks better Chinese than Mummy does. When he says guys aren’t allowed pornography, he also reminds wives to fulfill their husbands’ needs. When he says husbands shouldn’t have roving eyes, he also says wives have to not give them reasons to rove.
After marriage wives should continue to dress for their husbands, not other women (ever see those fashions that women applaud but men can’t understand?) It’s why Mummy grew out her extremely short pixie cut. Your father wanted long hair on Mummy for Christmas.
The sacrifices. Sigh.
But keep playing that funky music, White Boy 😛
PS: Since your father waited for Mummy, it’s only fair she now makes his wait worthwhile. And if you couldn’t read this without flinching, then just remember it makes the prospect of you having to adjust to a new Mummy and Daddy that much slimmer so suck it up.
Mummy wrote this to let you know it can be done. (And it was rewarding). And Mummy will try her darnedest not to be a hypocrite in your raising, is what she’s really trying to say.
