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25-Jun-2016 02:54

When I was finally done, she stared at me, shrugged her shoulders and said: “What’s a blowjob? ” Well, one thing I was pretty certain of—if I ever tried this again, it couldn’t go worse. For one thing, I was unexpectedly given a big assist by Emma’s school, where “Human Development” is taught in seventh, eighth and tenth grades.

” Totally taken aback, I suddenly found myself in a public place awkwardly trying to explain it, in detail. The program covers a range of topics, including menstruation, STDs, setting boundaries and safe sex.

“My aborted attempts so far have not been promising.” Though I am not unfamiliar with the trepidation associated with said talk, I approached my own first attempt with what turned out to be unwarranted confidence.

When my daughter, Emma, now 21, was 13 years old and about to enter the yearlong Bar and Bat Mitzvah circuit, rumors abounded about the “Bar Mitzvah blowjob.” It turned out to be urban myth, but I lived in fear that some acned, brace-faced boy would approach my innocent daughter at a Bar Mitzvah party and demand that she service him.

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I was reminded of this again last week when a writer I admire, Hanna Rosin, penned a piece at Slate under the headline “Sex Talk Fail.” Rosin is a writer at The Atlantic; founder of Double X, Slate’s women’s section; and the author of The End of Men.

Having sex for the first time—and every time after that—was her choice.

I told her that she should always feel comfortable and safe, and if she didn’t, she should listen to her gut and say no.

I imagined her caught unaware, uninformed and unprepared.

And as much as I dreaded it, I was convinced that it was my maternal duty to clue her in.

I was reminded of this again last week when a writer I admire, Hanna Rosin, penned a piece at Slate under the headline “Sex Talk Fail.” Rosin is a writer at The Atlantic; founder of Double X, Slate’s women’s section; and the author of The End of Men.

Having sex for the first time—and every time after that—was her choice.

I told her that she should always feel comfortable and safe, and if she didn’t, she should listen to her gut and say no.

I imagined her caught unaware, uninformed and unprepared.

And as much as I dreaded it, I was convinced that it was my maternal duty to clue her in.

The other day I was at the gym finishing my workout when a mom I know asked for my advice about “the sex talk.” She was struggling, she confided, to bring up the subject with her teenage daughter—afraid that discussing sex was somehow tantamount to giving her the green light to have it.