My grandmother is slightly crazy (she always has been). She always tends to reveal WAY TMI. I’d rather not repeat some of the things she’s told me, but lets say it involves STDS, gerontology, and throwing h’menstruation parties’. I would like to describe the story aroused (no pun intended) by my grandmother, which surpasses any she has formulated before.
In a fairly recent trip to Palm Beach county (where you got it, my grand 'rents live) my cousin, lets call her Beatrice, stayed with my grandparents. She always talks about how much she hates them but she went nonetheless. Anyway, this was her first time at their new house (they had recently retired and emigrated from Baltimore), and my grandmother decided to give her the tour of their nice, single-story house in their charming ‘active adult’ community.
It was all going well until they reached the main bathroom. DUN-DUN-DUN!!!. Grandma decides to say something stupid and self-incriminating, as she loves to do. Now I love her and all, but she needs some friggin’ self discipline. This is what she said: “(points to jacuzzi) This is where (lets call him Earl) Earl and I take our love baths. You know Beatrice, your grandfather is an excellent lover.” This was quickly followed by several wink-winks and nudge-nudges. Beatrice was instantly disgusted. Comebacks flash into her head, but in the end, she was speechless.
Fast Forward to one week later. Family dinner with uncle’s family at our house. Now, when our cousins/uncle/aunt are over, we usually occupy ourselves by making fun of our grandparents (they are very eary to make fun of). But Beatrice had just visited them, and we knew she would have quite a few stories to tell.
And that’s when, without being ashamed, Beatrice recited the entire love bath story to both families. Everyone was either shocked or laughing their asses off. think my dad was the only one who was terrified.
As soon as I heard the story, I remembered something. But I didn’t. It was something from my youth which I had blocked out of my head for all these years. Then I remembered: I found a box of condoms in my grandfather’s desk 5 years ago! I couldn’t tell them. My father would jump out the window before he heard that.
I alledgedly had erased such a traumatizing thing from my head years ago. But I remembered now. I probably forced myself to think that it was my dad’s or something (which isn’t a great thought either, and which doesn’t make sense since the goods were in my grandfather’s house) And the thing is, while my grandmother usually makes things up (and is probably why my family took the story as a joke) I know that grandma was telling the truth! She’s 69 and he’s 74, and they still have sex! Good god almighty!
Does anyone know a good therapist?
Whatever you do, don’t ask, they’ll probably tell you!