There’s this book I’ve been reading, “Sexual Intelligence: How to Increase Your Sexual Intelligence and Get What You Want in Bed,” which somehow cracks me up although I haven’t been able to figure out exactly what the joke is yet. Anyway, the main thesis is that it’s a good thing to understand what you want and why you want it, and to be able to communicate this. It’s good to know that all I need are self-knowledge and communication skills, and I’ll be fine.

It’s not a bad book, really, as stuff like that goes. It makes good points about raising kids to view sex without shame or guilt, but with intelligence. One thing a lot of people quoted in the book say is they wish their parents had talked with them about sex. Only 7% of people report that their parents did so.

So of course I march into Beta’s room, where she’s reading, and strike up a conversation.

I basically tell her the above.

“Not that I’m giving you a Sex Talk or anything,” I say.

“Mmm,” she says, reading. Some Anne of Green Gables book.

“For example, there was this woman quoted in the book, she was making out with this guy, and he kept putting her hand down to his crotch, and she didn’t feel like touching him there. He kept doing it, she kept pulling her hand away. Finally, she had enough and said, Look, I know where your penis is, if I wanted to touch it I would.”

Beta looks up from her book, “I’d punch him out.”

Me: “Yeah, well, er, that could be an appropriate response, or not, depending on the situation.”

Beta: “That’s what mom teaches us. She tells that to Gamma too.”

Me: “Heh, erm.”