Vermont, continued

And what is it about sex that makes everyone so insane about the topic? Why is a girl's sexuality seen as a finite commodity, one that can run dry if tapped too soon? Aren't we women like maple trees, producing an abundance of sugar regardless of whether or not we've been tapped before?

Granted, one doesn't tap a sapling. A tree shouldn't have more than three taps at a time. But the idea that women are harmed by early or frequent sexual expression makes as much sense to me as, well, most things my mother believes to be true. I don't think I was "damaged" by my backseat adventures. Sure, I had my heart broken, and I wrote some bad poetry. But that's not damage - that's life. Like the Vermont maple, my tap-marks heal over, and I am a wellspring of sugar, an inexhaustible fountain of the sweet, sticky syrup of life.

Maple Syrup, Ben & Jerry's, and Pedophiles

My mom is crazy, in a functional yet above-average-crazy sort of way. We agree on very few things; in fact, I can't even think of a TV show we both like. I spoke with her last night on the phone, one of my dreaded infrequent guilty calls, and she started telling me about Vermont. Vermont, it seems, is a state that protects pedophiles, where activist judges give ridiculously lax sentences to repeat offenders of the nastiest sort, and where Jessica's Law will not pass because the people of Vermont don't care about their children. My mother knows this because she learned it by watching Fox News with Bill O'Riley. Bill O'Riley is evidently the sort of newsman who really goes after the stories and uncovers the truth about things, and one of those things is pedophilia in Vermont. She said, "I would not go to Vermont to save my life, which is too bad because it's a beautiful state. But those people in Vermont are crazy."

When I think of Vermont, I think of autumn foliage, maple syrup, Ben & Jerry's ice cream. I don't think of pedophilia amid an apathetic population. But then again, when I think of reputable news coverage, I don't think of Fox News and I definitely don't think of Bill O'Riley. I told my mother that I find it very hard to believe that the good people of Vermont would allow child rapists to go free, and that it was more likely that Mr. O'Riley took a case out of context to make his point. She said, "You should watch the O'Riley show for one week - you will not believe it." She is absolutely correct: I would not believe it.

Over the course of the conversation, I learned that my mother thinks that a 19 year old man who sleeps with his 17 year old girlfriend should be legally treated the same way as a 45 year old man who sleeps with an 8 year old. She could not be swayed from this belief. She thinks anyone who has sex with a minor is morally bankrupt, spiritually diseased, and deserving of the strictest of punishments. She does not differentiate between consensual teenage sex and sexual battery. To her, the ability of a 5 year old to consent is equal to the ability of a 14, 16, 17 year old. "Children should not be having sex, period," she said with absolute conviction.

I first had sex when I was 15, and I think I turned out OK. I'm happy, relatively healthy, in a stable monogamous relationship, own my house, have a good job - what, I asked my mother, is so dangerous about grope-y high school coitus that it should be punished like forcible rape? And she told me that she thinks I was damaged - permanently and irreparably - by my "behavior" in high school. She really believes that I've lost the opportunity to experience some of life's joy because of choices I made as a teenager. What have I lost? I asked. She couldn't say specifically, but she knows it to be true.

And what bothers me is not that she thinks sex is wrong, or that she thinks Vermont is full of perverts, or even that she listens to Bill O'Riley. What bothers me is that she views me as damaged. What is it about me, about my life, that she feels falls short?