Kenju posted about going to a ‘dirty’ movie as a teen, and getting busted by her mother, so I thought I’d share my similar experience.

I was a college freshman, and so naive as to be truly in danger and dangerous. The raciest movie I’d ever seen was probably a Sean Connery James Bond flick, and I only went to those because of the peer pressure, because I seldom understood anything that was going on.

But that weekend up at Indiana University, a bunch of the dormies decided to walk down to the College Mall movie theater to see a certain movie that was much in the news. Campus scuttlebutt was that this flick was a must-see for every college-aged student. Campus scuttlebutt also hinted that there would be nudity, cursing, music-some-of-us-weren’t-allowed-to-listen-to-at-home, and general disregard for the status quo.

I was ready.

So, we walked the near-mile to the mall (back then, freshmen weren’t allowed to have cars on campus, and few upperclassmen in my set had them, either), stood in the long line to buy our tickets, went in, and waited with great anticipation for the movie to begin.

It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. I sat there slackjawed and took it all in.

So far, so good.

As we exited the theater, jabbering enthusiastically about the movie and the music and the nakedidity, as Radar would say, we did not notice the older women standing in the parking lot watching us.

When I went home that weekend, though, my parents were waiting for me.

Them: We understand that you were seen leaving the theater where a dirty movie was playing.

Me: What?

Them: Don’t try to deny it. You were seen by a family friend.

Me: One of your friends told you she’d seen me leaving a dirty movie?

Them: That’s right. Why in the world would you have paid good money, OUR money, to see a filthy movie like that? We sent you up there to be educated, not so you could ruin your reputation and ours by being seen at dirty movies.

Then followed a lecture about family values and reputations being irreplaceable and the threat of being removed from college if I couldn’t handle myself any better than that, etc, etc, blah blah blah.

They scared me so badly I promised them anything they asked. The thought of leaving this awesome place where I could do anything I wanted without asking permission first and moving back home to this small town was too terrible to contemplate.

I had no intention of keeping the promises, by the way. That’s awful, I know, and I knew it even then, but the truth was, my parents had no idea what college was all about and nothing anyone could have told them would have helped. I had grown up so sheltered in many ways, that the freedom was both exhilerating and scary. I had no intention of becoming a bad girl, at least not right away. I was such a goody-two-shoes as a kid. . . .on the surface, that is. Well, everybody who knew me thought so. Ask them. 🙂

I also had the brains to see what was happening to some of the students who had been sheltered to the point of near-imprisonment as kids. They went hog wild, that’s what was happening. Two of the girls in my dorm, who had never even been allowed to date, EVER, got pregnant almost immediately.

Keep a person down all their lives, and when they finally do get some freedom, bad things sometimes happen.

Anyway. Mom finally told me which fink of her friends had been the snitch. I wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t surprised a few years later when every. single. one. of. her. many many sons and daughters had “premature” babies in their middle teens, either.

Oh, and the name of this evil filthy naked drug-filled cursing irreverent movie?

Woodstock. My opinion of it? Cool.

It’s a good thing none of Mom’s friends saw me a few years later leaving the Bloomington, Indiana, premiere of “Deep Throat.” I had a borrowed ID and they let me right in. My boyfriend was 23 and they kept him for questioning for a few minutes before letting him in. Our friend Wong, who was 28 and looked forty and had been a cop in Hong Kong before coming to IU, never carried ID and he had to run five miles back to the dorm to get his.

My opinion of that one? Blechhh.

I will never be a good porn customer because A. I think it is pathetic and disgusting, and B. I can’t stop laughing.