Page 79 of Talk Nerdy To Me
Someone takes a seat beside me, and I look over to see an elderly woman’s face nearly directly in front of mine the second I turn my head.
She gives me an incredulous look, snorts a sound, and faces Britt as she puts her arm around the seat of a young girl who is presumably her granddaughter.
I rest my elbows on the table in front of us as the seats continue to fill up, and doughnuts start getting dispensed in a row, on a long, rectangular, clear, plastic plate.
“Don’t eat them yet,” Taylor tells Randy, slapping the back of his head so that the doughnut piece he just tore off between his teeth flies out of his mouth.
People start passing out pads of paper and ink pens next, putting them in front of all of us. I glance over the doughnut variety, wondering what it has to do with anything.
There’s one with pink icing and sprinkles, one that has chocolate glaze, one that is plain glazed, and one that looks like blueberry.
The projector turns on, listing Britt’s name and the clinic’s name like a header for the upcoming slideshow. Britt doesn’t bother quieting the room or introducing herself before she dives in.
“We’re going to start with the basics,” she says, as an image pops up on screen with the lecture’s intent…
Oh shit.
THE MISUNDERSTANDING OF THE HYMEN, is written in all caps.
Randy chokes on a piece of doughnut, at the same time Britt says, “It’s surprising to know how few women actually understand the hymen.”
Sticks slinks down in his seat, eyes wide as his cheeks turn red.
We’re in a roomful of girls who are young. And we’re listening about hymens with these young girls.
We’re going to hell, and it’s all my fault.
“There are four types of hymens, and determining which one you have could directly affect your first sexual experience.”
We’re listening about first sexual experiences with really little girls. Oh, fuck me. We’re going to get arrested or some shit.
“Kill me now,” Taylor whisper-yells
“The reason it’s important to know, is because the hymen is the center of a lot of easily solved controversy. Some girls say it was the most pain they’ve ever felt.”
A few girls whimper somewhere in the room. I just want to rewind time and not ask Britt if I can come to this thing.
Salem looks like she’s working to keep a straight face when she glances over at our four pale ones.
Tria doesn’t look at us at all, because it seems like she’s struggling to remain seriously attentive, and knows she’ll lose it if she looks in our direction.
Britt is fucking stoic.
And very passionately speaking about…hymens. To a lot of little girls. We’re the only dudes in here, and everyone is noticing that more and more.
“Some girls claim to have felt no pain at all,” Britt goes on. “Age always helps to deal with that. The hymen naturally erodes, stretches, and thins with age, physical activity, and a healthy menstrual cycle.”
“I hate you,” Sticks whispers to me. “I’m quitting the band.”
I ignore him, because I’m busy trying to figure out how to get out of here when this thing is over with the fewest amount of people seeing my face.
Sticks has one hand up, like he’s shielding half his face, when Britt adds, “You don’t actually ‘break’ the hymen. It just stretches. That pain or the drops of blood is often from a tear. Some women don’t bleed at all after the first time they have sex, because they’ve whittled their hymens down so that they comfortably stretch without tearing.”
Taylor passes me a note like this is high school, and I unfold it.
My balls just left my body and ran out of here. Can I go chase them?
I scribble down a response and pass it back.
