Low Carnal Intelligence Quotient

I like to think of myself as an intelligent person. In elementary school, I always scored above my grade level on standardized tests. And in high school, I was enrolled in a college preparatory program where the course work was more academically advanced than the average student's. So, despite what I am getting ready to tell you, I am not an idiot. Really, I'm not. It's just there are some things that traditionally I have been slow to grasp, particularly things of a sexual nature. I have what you could call a low carnal intelligence quotient. If there is a colloquial term referring to anything sexual, chances are I will not only fail to pick up on the innuendo but I will have to have it spelled out for me as well. And maybe even have a picture drawn.

My naivety can partially be explained by my Bible belt upbringing but mostly my carnal ignorance comes from spending my youth being a goody two shoes. As a teenager, I did all the "right" things. I didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't cut school, didn't sneak out of the house and never hung around with people who did. While most kids my age were out partying, losing their virginity in the back seats of cars and generally being educated in the ways of the world, I was doing my Calculus homework. This trend continued until I reached young adulthood but, by this time, I was so far behind that there was no catching up.

The Boyfriend often chuckles at my innocent nature (I think he thinks it's endearing) and bears much of the responsibility of explaining sexual references to me. Recently he had to point out that a Prince Albert wasn't just a tobacco product. And he practically had to pull out charts and graphs when he mentioned that an ex-girlfriend of his was into water sports and I responded, "You mean like scuba diving?"

My ignorance doesn't stop at sexual terms. When it comes to songs with sexually suggestive lyrics, I often give the impression that I rode the short bus to school.

Not too long ago, The Boyfriend explained that Mtume's Juicy Fruit is not about chewing gum. Only recently it was brought to my attention that Grace Jones' Pull Up To My Bumper is not about cars. While listening to the radio several years ago, my mom and I both realized the meaning of the song Afternoon Delight a full quarter century after the song was made.

Apparently, this affliction is hereditary. And that pretty much means there is no hope for me. I should just wear a bracelet that announces my handicap to the world and lets people know that if the subject of a conversation should change to a sexual nature then they need to speak slowly and plainly in my presence. And have a drawing tablet nearby. Then maybe, just maybe, I'll have a chance of catching on.