I read quite an
interesting article today. A mother wrote in it about the struggles
of her autistic son. He was never much of a social butterfly to my
understanding, and he was bullied for it. On top of that, he never
had friends, and his efforts to get romantically involved with women
fell short as well. The mother eventually contemplated hiring a
prostitute for her son but ultimately ended up not going through with
the plan.
I certainly don’t blame her. Every parent wants their children to find a spouse and continue the bloodline. And I can understand why her son’s failures in romance nearly drove her to that point. She was willing to have her son experience the joy of sex - at the risk of getting herself in jail. In a way, that’s very admirable.
Somehow, the article got me thinking back to my first (and so far only) sexual experience. After all, it did happen under similar circumstances. Only my mother didn’t work as a middle hand in that instance - it happened by my own volition. And rather than having an unfortunate chain of events lead up to it, I merely seized an opportunity.
Upon reflection, I’m glad that I did seize it. While the setting was far from ideal, the experience wasn’t really as horrible as I’ve previously made it out to be. At the very least, I got to know what “it” feels like.
It’s not very often that I second-think myself or my past experiences in this way. And when I do, it happens for a reason. In all honesty, though, I very rarely change my opinions, let alone when it comes to personal experiences.
I never really regretted seizing the opportunity, and I still don’t. I’m not one to pass by an open door. In fact, I dare say that had I not seized the opportunity, that I would have regretted. But then, I only have so many regrets in the first place.