DNA pie: spliced down the middle.
two halves of the same coin
My sister and I each take after one parent.
I got my mother’s curly hair, her obstinance, common sense when it comes to other people’s feelings. We’re not sure from whom I got the big boobs.
My sister has my father’s brown skin, his enthusiasm, his stubborn obliviousness to my mother’s feelings.
But we both love to read, to write (she writes scripts, I write grouchy blogs, poetry, and fiction), to watch television marathons of Firefly, Veronica Mars, The Closer, Xena, BBC: Robin Hood.
My sister is a jump before looking type. A jump even though there’s a sign that says "BRIDGE ENDS" type.
When she was a kid she would pretend to take a shower. Instead sit in her room and lollygag doing god know’s what. Then, when my mother came to see if she’d showered, my sister would say "of course i did." Was the shower wet? No. Was her hair wet? No.
Terrible con artist.
It bothered me deeply that she was too daft to properly prep her lie.
Jesus Fruitcake Christ, put some effort into it at least.
At 18, my sister continues to slide though life with this daft approach to "white lies", mostly when it comes to omitting information from my mother.
My sister wanted to bring her new boyfriend, a fellow freshman in her exclusive college program, home for a few days during Christmas break. My mother was uncomfortable with this. She works full time and wouldn’t be home to supervise. She didn’t want to be responsible for anything that happened in her house. Perhaps this is uptight or prude in comparison to most families in a world where middle schoolers are having sex. But my sister and I were reserved in high school. We didn’t date (not because we weren’t allowed), no makeup (this may have changed for my sister now, I don’t know), never spent more than five minutes on our hair. Our sexual experiences stayed kaput until she (18) met kenny and I (21) met Kirby. So my parents never had to worry about or even consider our improbable promiscuity.
We had my father’s house to ourselves for a few days while he and my stepmother drove up to the new house in oregon. We rented Zombieland and decided we were going to get drunk.
This lasted five minutes.
"This is disgusting." I chased my sam adams with a lot of water.
"Dammit! I at least wanted to get buzzed," my sister griped.
Our small rebellion quelled, we poured the beers down the drain and buried them in a neighbor’s trash bin. (We later told both our father and our mother and neither one was upset. They regarded us with more of a "what took you so long" look.)
My mother’s objection to my sister having sex is she doesn’t think my sister is mature enough. Intellectually my sister is at the top of her game. But emotionally, she’s 15. Especially when it comes to boys. Which is where our DNA history gets interesting.
My sister and Kenny haven’t spent a night apart since winter break. He’s been to Oregon and stayed with at my father’s house, she’s been to Arizona and stayed at his house. They sleep in her dorm bed every night (her roommate goes home every weekend.)
Kirby and I see each other about 5 days a week – at work or on casual dates to free movies. Tomorrow we plan to go to the tulip festival. Small stuff. I sleep at his house now and then, but I like my space.
and he snores.
Throughout all of our rivalries, sibling tiffs, and grudges, my sister and I are able to talk about most things openly.
Especially sex (we got this from our mother).
So when she called me one night and asked, "did you bleed a lot your first time?"
We fell into an easy patter about our first sexual escapades.
It was a relief to know I wasn’t alone on some things.
"Kenny never lets me sleep. He always wakes up so early. And you know how guys wake up."
Boy, do i.
"Fucking horndogs, I know. I just want to sleep and he’s up at 8 am all over me."
Sometimes I just want to tell him to go jerk off and let me sleep in another hour.
"Did it hurt a lot?"
"Yes. A lot. we had to stop."
"Us, too. It felt horrible, but i could tell he was enjoying it."
Whew. So I’m not the only one that found losing one’s virginity to be a rather horrifying experience. In an earlier entry I described it as almost being raped. I thought I was being dramatic or deranged. But my sister agreed. "It sucked. Easily top ten worst thing that’s ever happened to me."
At which point we groused, why the fuck is everything so enjoyable for the guys and we get all the pain? Story of our lives.
"But after many many times, now I’ve gotten to the point where it feels good."
Kirby and I haven’t gotten that far. I fend him off with other things.
Which brings me to an important revelation. Kirby is not only a snorer, but a light sleeper and a cuddler. I like my space in and out of bed so it’s a rare night when I sleep soundly with him (when he slept at my house and I had work the next day I made him sleep in my sister’s twin bed so I could get some uninterrupted rest).
But last week I was feeling queasy – a precursor to my period – and didn’t want to go through more sexual trauma. I concentrated on him and almost five minutes after he came he was fast asleep. FAST ASLEEP.
I had bad insomnia and was able to sneak out of bed, dress, and out of the house and he didn’t even move.
like magic.
So many stories about that night for a later date.
Like me getting locked in the bathroom at 5am, suffering flashes of panic that I’d be stuck there all night and then be "that girlfriend" that once slept the night on the bathroom floor because she couldn’t figure out the lock.