Yesterday when I came home from work, my mom confronted me. She told me that she read my previous post this week — the first post I have publicly shared on Facebook — not to be nosy, but to inspect my grammar. She then noticed a few of my racier titles and wound up reading more personal, intimate articles, like the first time I had intercourse. I was flattered when she whimsically compared me to the legendary Samantha Jones, though I express my sexuality far too lazily to be anywhere near Samantha’s reputation.
What my mom saw inspired both a disturbed horror and curiosity, especially for someone of her generation. (more…)