You know what talk I’m talking about. The one where your mom (or even worse, dad) sits you down and then doesn’t know what to say for about five minutes. So there’s this super awkward lead-in and in your 12-year-old mind you’re saying, “What the hell? I just want some chicken nuggets.” And then it hits you. Your mom is talking about sex. Your mom is talking about sex! To you! WTF. You just had your first sex ed class like, two months ago. You hardly even know what all of this means! Stop, Mom, just stop.

But she didn’t stop. You had to suffer through a stilted and shameful speech about the birds and the bees and how you should wait until you love someone and how sometimes you will have really strong feelings for another person but if you act on those feelings you will get pregnant. And die. Blah blah blah.

So after all of this terribleness, you most likely walked away and completely forgot everything that was said (if you even had the courtesy to listen in the first place.) Right? From what I remember, this moment was only a flicker in my early teenage years that was sufficiently awkward and then deftly ignored by all parties involved.

I mean, why do parents think that middle/high school kids are going to listen to ANYTHING they say? If this technique worked, 16 and Pregnant wouldn’t exist. But alas, it does, showing parents across the world that kids basically give “the talk” the finger and toss their v-cards at 14.

But I guess everyone has to get the talk at some point in their lives because it makes parents feel like they are doing their job. Even Bieber has a story to tell about this one. It’s just a part of growing up–without the talk, some kids might not even know about the magical world of sex in the first place, and how terrible would that be? Knowledge is power, mom and dad!

How did your mom or dad approach giving you “the talk?” Were you scarred for life afterwards? Was it the most awkward moment of your life? Tell us all the horrific details!

Warning! Before you watch this video, make sure your medicine cabinet is fully stocked with mind soap. Because you’re going to need it after  you watch this charming video of 4-year-old advertising her booty. And no it’s not a home video shot by her parents. It’s a performance she does on The Talk (the poor man’s The View) wearing a truly inspiring outfit. It’s not every parent who can spot a miniature top hat and turn it into something I threw up last weekend.

"When a man loves a woman...."

I vividly remember the times when Salt-N-Pepa’s “Let’s Talk about Sex” would come on the radio while I was being chauffeured around by my mother. I would plead to the heavens above that she would not take this opportunity to actually talk about sex with me. I dreaded the conversation that I knew was coming.

I thought Chrissy’s mom in Now and Then explained it perfectly when she said: “All women have a garden, and a garden needs a big hose to water it…or a small hose… as long as it works.” That was all I needed to hear on the topic of coitus. Plus, I would probably vomit if I ever heard the phrase “blow job” leave my mother’s lips.  And fortunately for me, I never had to.

Whether she figured the sex ship had already left my harbor, or she truly and sincerely believed that I was, and am, still as pure as they day she birthed me, my mother has successfully avoided the topic of sex with me for the past 22 years. And that’s too bad, because a new study is preaching a much earlier age to have The Talk.

According to Dr. Mark Schuster’s study, far too often parents wait too long to address the topic with their children to point where the conversation falls of deaf and already de-virginized ears. So he advises parents to explain the birds and bees (and wrapping those birds and bees in latex) to their kids at the middle school age at the latest, before they even start thinking about sex.

Yes. The Talk. At 13. Holy hell.

I understand the importance of The Talk, and I understand that girls and boys are giving it up much earlier these days (thank you, Britney), but I just can’t even imagine having my parents sit me down with a banana and a condom on my way out to a friend’s bat mitzvah to explain how safe sex works. Hell,  to this very day I still cringe when a sex scene comes on T.V. when I’m watching with my parents. It’s just uncomfortable and makes me think they might take that moment to bust out the anatomically correct male model and explain his reproductive parts to me. And at the ripe age of 22, I’m still not sure I’m ready for it.

Did you get The Talk? How old were you?

I had him. And I pushed him away.

I moved to New York City for an internship a few months ago, completely unattached for the first time in what felt like forever. I was so happy to be living in one of the most exhilarating places on earth, independent and ready to have the best time of my life. I didn’t come to the city looking for anyone or anything, just to experience NYC in it’s fullest. I had no intention of dating. In fact, after the year I’d had, it was the last thing on my mind.

Of course, it’s always when you’re not looking that you find someone.

He was ideal in every way. Ivy league grad, held a great job, sweet, very athletic, great looking and he even liked decent music. Not to mention he took me out on real dates (not just guest swiping me into a dining hall), tried to kiss me in public, held my hand… he did everything right. Hell, he even extended his texting plan because I told him I preferred texting to phone calls.

But no matter what, I just couldn’t put my guard down. I flinched when he tried to kiss me in front of people and cringed when he started referring to us as “in a relationship.” I was still single on Facebook; didn’t that mean anything?

The more time we spent together, the further I pulled away. Maybe it was a function of our age difference, but I started to question if there was something wrong with me. I liked spending time with him and everything, but I wasn’t ready to be his girlfriend. After all the a-holes I’d been with who cheated on me, lied to me, used and under-appreciated me, you’d think I’d be jumping for joy for this guy. On the contrary, I was terrified. I didn’t and do not want a boyfriend and I’m not interested in experiencing committal at age 21. Words like “girlfriend” and “relationship” strike fear into my heart.

A few months of dating and he began to notice that I wasn’t breaking down and tried to convince me to be more “mushy.” I’m not mushy. I’m a sweet girl, I laugh and smile a lot. I love hugging people and I enjoy doing nice things. However, I’m far from romantic at this juncture in my life. Even the flowers he got me made me barf a little in my mouth.  He continued to refer to us being “in a relationship” and implying that we were boyfriend/girlfriend.

Finally, after realizing that I was simply leading this poor guy on, we had the talk. And it was weird. Not only because we did it at my favorite bar while sipping on overpriced martinis (that he paid for), but because it was total role reversal. I was telling him things that guys normally tell girls when they want them to stop being clingy or assume that they’re girlfriend material. I told him I wasn’t ready for a commitment, I wasn’t looking to be a girlfriend and I wanted to slow down and maybe make things on a more “as needed” basis. You know, the “we can still be friends…I’m emotionally challenged” speech. I’m sure you’ve heard it before, lord knows I have.

He said he wanted to think about it, that he wasn’t sure if a laid back thing was in his best interests. He left me a note in the morning on my bed (yes, I stupidly brought him home with me…) detailing that “dating without romance doesn’t come naturally to me” and that he was more interested in a relationship. Goodbye. Good luck. Etc.

And there I was, alone in my bed, totally confused.

Did I seriously just end things with an awesome guy just because he wanted to be romantic and be my boyfriend? Isn’t that what I’ve always wanted – someone who liked me and wasn’t afraid of showing it?

What’s wrong with me? How could I pass up something great? Am I shell-shocked from the ghost of relationships past? Am I destined to die completely alone (not even as a crazy cat lady because I just hate cats way too much)? Did I just pass on the last good guy on earth? And what do I do now?

How do I fix this?