My Mother The Sex Worker

My name is Max Ryan and I have two confessions to make...

First of all, my mother is not, and never has been, employed as a "sex worker".

She worked as a family planning nurse.

I now understand that I took slight pleasure in telling naive friends that my mother worked in the sex industry when really she advised and taught people as a medical nurse about sexual health.

I guess I found this so funny because my mother was 4o years old when I was born so by this time she was in her mid-fifties. She is a devout Christian and the most moral person I know or have ever met. So to me, she is the last person that would ever work in the sex industry and that is why I found it funny to tell people that she did.

And in my defence, it wasn't entirely a lie...for when friends would come over to visit they would find wooden dildos and anatomically correct dolls and other crazy things lying around our kitchen.

What I did not explain to these friends was these items were used by my mom to teach young kids and mentally challenged youth about sex education and things like putting on a condom.

I now admit, that perhaps I spun all my answers to paint a picture that was not entirely accurate...for example, when my friends, aghast at what they were hearing gasped, "Are you being serious?" I now know I shouldn't have responded with, "Yeah! She gets a hundred bucks an hour. How do you think we can afford this house?"

Second confession: To all young ladies who made appointments with the family health clinic at the Oshawa Centre and ended up speaking to my mother about anything sex related, she never once breathed a word to me about anything at all. Nothing whatsoever. No names. No conditions. Nothing at all.

The reason I feel I must make this second confession, is that once or twice or at most ten or fifteen times I may have indicated to young ladies that I knew much more about their private lives than I actually did. In fact, I never knew anything.

For the record, it was the girls themselves who told me everything. If they hadn't been so worried what I knew and what I didn't know I never would have known anything.

Every situation started out the same way. A girl would walk up to me very nervous and say hi. She'd start up a conversation about something totally unrelated and she'd nervously laugh a couple of times before turning to leave. A few steps down the hall, she'd stop, turn to the side and quietly ask with a nervous smile that was starting to twitch, "By the way, did your mother happen to mention that I spoke to her recently?"

What was I supposed to do? I mean really?

How could I possibly resist, "Yes, she called you a bad girl."

And if I got the reaction that I wanted, which I always did; a look of pure shock and fear, I kept going...and the conversation would always go something like this:

Girl: Seriously?

Max: It's okay. Don't worry. I'm just not supposed to shake your hand or drink from the same cup.

Girl: What?

Max: It's nothing. Compared to most of the girls at this school you are totally, almost innocent."

Girl: What?

By this time in the conversation, the girl's face would usually start to get red and twitch a little.

Max: I do think you should follow my mom's instructions to the letter and take those pills regularly as instructed.

Everything is about pills when you go to the family health office. They first see my mom and then the on-staff doctor who prescribes birth control pills or antibiotics or pills for whatever they came for...whether it itches or scratches or pusses I just figure there is always a pill for it. Based on their reactions, I was right.

Girl: She told you about the pills?

Max: Of course! She's my mother! Hello?? I'm not going to say anything...just be careful out there. Frankly, we're all more than a little worried about you."

Girl: She told you about the pills? (Obviously in shock at this point and stuck on the same question)

Max: Hush. We shall speak no more of this. Just for God's sakes, be safe! I'd hug you...but I'm not allowed.

Then I would turn in the other direction and walk away...leaving the young lady standing there still shaking and uncertain about what had just transpired.

You have to understand, I was just really bored in high school. So...again, it's not really my fault when you think about it that way.

In hindsight though, I probably shouldn't have played that game with girls that I was close with...who were my age and those with whom we hung around the same group. This made it much worse for those girls because they naturally assumed I told everyone else in our group about their private business.

One such friend, whom I do love to this day, and respect I might add...was a little pissed at me for a period of time in high school.

She did come to me and ask me if my mother had spoken of her recently, and of course we had the same conversation that I did with all girls who asked that question.

However, it stewed within her much more than with the others.

Not for long, just a couple of days, but it must have been intense stewing for she was absolutely certain that I was telling everyone her private business. And I should have been more in tune with that, but I wasn't. I didn't notice that she was no longer sitting with us at lunch, that she was sitting by herself. I didn't notice that she would glare at me when I was laughing with friends. I didn't notice anything at all I'm afraid.

So, one lunch hour a few days after we spoke, I was sitting at a table in the library laughing with friends and I didn't notice that she was sitting at a cubicle just watching us.

I guess she just stared at us thinking we were laughing about her.

So, she finally had enough. She got up and slammed her chair against the desk, stormed over to our table and just stared. Immediately I knew, based on her expression that something was wrong but I honestly had no idea she was upset at me.

"Fine asshole!" she began, looking straight at me. "I see you guys laughing and talking about me. Fine! All of you! I had the clap! Gonorrhea! Are you happy?? Cause I sure as hell am! Thanks a lot Max! Asshole!"

And then she walked off.

There was a long moment of silence; and I do mean a long moment of silence.

Finally a guy at the next table broke the silence with, "You gave her the clap?"

Totally confused at first I responded with, "I didn't give her the.....oh!" Like a light bulb turning on in my brain, I finally understood what had happened and my role in this. Oops!

Everything turned out okay....well, at least for me. I ran after her and explained everything. Although she was absolutely embarrassed after announcing to the library that she had gonorrhea, she has now lost all of the anger she had with me...of course, it took therapy and it's been twenty-five years now.

The best part about a naïve person is that...well, they're naïve; and this girl was definitely naïve. Her friends at the library table, including myself, told her repeatedly that we couldn't understand a word of what she had said in the library when she was upset with us, so no one else could have possibly understood that she had gonorrhea. And she believed it.

You might be wondering why then, am I writing about this now, to betray that lie for the sake of a good story and some cheap laughs.

Well, much like my dates, I take what I can get.