When my children were small, I was very careful to cover their eyes anytime they were exposed to anything unseemly on television or in the movies.  It wasn’t necessarily the sexual parts that got them the hand across the face, it was the horror, blood, gore, and anything I in my one person censorship drive deemed inappropriate that stopped the action.  I was merciless.  By the time my sons were ten and eight they would cover their eyes if it even looked like a couple was going to kiss.  I was very proud.  I don’t know what happened.  I don’t know when I lost it.  I don’t know and I’m not sure I want to know.  What I do know is this: I have watched porn with my sons, and life will never be the same.

Recently my youngest son was in from Chicago and my husband and my oldest decided they would get a movies for us to watch.  When they came home with Caligula I didn’t even bat an eye.  Yes, I knew Caligula was freaky and into some strange things but I didn’t expect everything in his repertoire to be shown on the screen.  Even when they told me it was the unrated version, I still was okay.  I mean it had some really great actors and actresses in it.  Names that have a great deal of acclaim.  I should have known when they opened with an orgy.  Sometimes the clues just sail right over my head.

You know how sometimes when there is a car wreck and you really don’t want to look but you can’t not?  Well this film had the same effect.  I knew that when this was over I was going to have to boil my eyeballs, but I did not let my children see weakness.  Periodically I looked around the room to see if anyone else was as disturbed as I was.  My oldest son looked much like he looks on Christmas morning.  Ditto my husband.  My youngest son had a look on his face that can best be described as the look you might get if someone forced you to drink douche.  There you go.  You just made that face.  Thank God!  Someone else at least found it uncomfortable.  The debauchery went on for days and days.  We started on Friday and I swear it didn’t end until the following Thursday.  In reality, it ran about 2 hours.  I must have changed position on the couch twenty times to try to find a position that would allow me to appear to be watching but that would block my vision.  I never achieved nirvana.

When the movie was finally over I felt as if I had been gang raped by a tribe of Sasquatch who hadn’t ever seen a woman before.  I still had to boil my eyes, and there was never going to be enough hot water in this house for all the washing I had to do.   Wow!  I looked at my sons.  My little boys…looked as if they had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.  Someone had to say something.  “All right.  It was obviously porn.  But, on the other hand…it was just sex and we are all adults here so it’s done.  We will never talk about it again.”  I left the room.  I had to.  My youngest son stayed put.  My oldest followed me.  He wanted to tell me how cool it was that we had watched porn together.  He could just bet that none of his friends had ever watched porn with their moms.  On and on….I reminded him that this wasn’t something that we should be particularly proud of and that I seriously didn’t want to talk about it.  Eventually the night ended…and thankfully I didn’t have nightmares.

The next day my non-vag.  daughter came over and was asking me about the movie.  Apparently my son had told her she didn’t need to watch the movie.  I told her he was right.  In my opinion no one needed to watch that movie.  I explained how horrible it was on so many levels.  She then asked the million dollar question…the question that none of us had ever considered…the one that dared not rear its head the night before…the one question whose answer would have solved all the problems and tension that filled our theatre room the night before…are you ready for this monumental question?  She said, “Why didn’t you just fast forward through all of the sex?”  (insert crickets)  This never entered my mind.  I felt so dirty.  I felt like I had said yes.  I felt like I had dressed to please my attackers.  I felt like a willing participant in the demise of my humanity.  I needed another shower and to boil my eyes again.  Now I was also going to have to do some serious soul searching and try to find out what the hell was wrong with me.

I watched porn with my sons.  I’m filthy.  Bit by bit I am trying to forgive myself but it’s not easy.  I keep seeing those precious little cookie faces that I spent years covering up to protect from all the world’s degenerate acts, and now not only have I taken away the blinds I have invited the smut to live in our home.  I am not going to be nominated mother of the year.  Not unless penthouse has some demented contest.  Oh well, at least they don’t have prison records…yet.

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