Our new intern Josh isn’t that shy or awkward for a 17 year old, he’s happy to share his thoughts and feelings with us. His last story about his balls went down pretty well so we had him write about his pushy mum and not having sex ever.
It’s hard to describe the relationship I have with my mother. It’s definitely different (take your mind out of the gutter). Before I jetted out on my first music festival, my mother, an obnoxious American all too optimistic and -more to the point- unrealistic packed 6 magnum condoms into my bag without my knowledge. Two nights previously she had openly and rather proudly insisted to my great aunt, (a 65 year old woman who I see no more than once every 3 years), that come the end of my days in Spain the rather big V hanging over my head would be a thing of the past.
We hit Wednesday, two days in from the scorching heat, the virginity was still intact, with no fight breaking out between the girls over who would take it. It didn’t help that my mother was constantly ringing me, breaking every known mother/son rule about what is and is not appropriate to talk about. “Hows it going son…. getting lucky?” I couldn’t take the calls anymore. The fact that my mother, a middle aged divorcee approaching her half century was out on the prowl whilst I was getting off to the fat aging medic rubbing aftersun on my back once a day just made me want to jump into the ocean and drown. I wanted to lie, I really did, but I couldn’t. I was still tortured and still a virgin.
During Benicassim, I hoped that girls would fall for the whole pealing skin look, I figured Goldmember rocked the peeling skin and tight spandex in Austin Powers so I didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t. Not too long ago, sex with someone I knew and felt emotionally connected to actually had some importance to me. That was before time wore on and frustration and desperation crushed all those sort of dreams.
What I wondered was how my mother thought that I was going to go from having no sex in my entire life, to having sex 6 times within the space of 6 nights. Did she actually think that there would be that many drunk or drugged up girls to take advantage of? What made it worse was that my friends were doing just that. That’s not rape, they were drunk too. There I stood in Spain, the lone fucking virgin with a sex addict of a mother who is all too vocal about it.
As soon as I walked through the front door, I entered my kitchen, unpacked my bag and accidentally dropped the six condoms on my kitchen table where my mother sat. With a shake of my head it was obvious; she quickly counted to check if they were all there. They were. I knew, I’d checked myself -numerous times. She merely shook her head and said “better luck next time”.
