There is a special place in the lives of boys; it’s the moment you really start on the road to manhood. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you look at it), this ritual has passed from a sacred moment, and one difficult to attain, to a nearly unavoidable emotional catastrophe.

Yes, this is about that first pornography. Back when it really meant something.

Sure you’d had boners… hell my three-year-old wakes up with morning wood Viagra scientists consider their goal. But until you discovered porn, or at least salacious T-and-A, those boners never made much sense. Oh, sure, some of the more progressive parents back then had “the talk” with you or gave you a copy of What’s Happening to Me. But parents are not normally this open about anything adult/important so you knew it was probably a trap.

Then, at some point you heard the rumors about magazines or *gasp* videos of “naked ladies” from older kids and this became your unicorn. Seeing nudity became a vision quest of sorts; you could always tell the guys who had from the guys who just said they had. There was a certain swagger to a “had-seen,” and a new found desperation to see it again.

When I was a kid in the 70’s and 80’s, there was usually a great deal of difficulty hooking this up. The first time was mostly serendipity. Maybe you were visiting your single older cousin or uncle’s apartment, and found his spank bank buried three magazines deep in the bathroom. Occasionally, one of us would happen upon a hobo porn stash of sun faded magazines in an alley, or by the railroad tracks, or off in the woods. Those were both amazing and gross, because your average hobo’s taste in porn is pretty hard core. If the hobo was thoughtful, he left half a pint of Old Crow to help with the shock.

Then there was the ancient and much abused magazine passed via a sacred ritual in a tree fort. And of course late night premium cable.

The first sexy nudity that I remember happened while being babysat by teenagers who had good cable. I saw Porkies when I was nine and it changed my life. This also led to several years of eye strain from watching scrambled Playboy channel. Once, in 1989, the scrambler was down for two days . Wow…talk about chaffing.

Actually though, and I was reminded of this by M.I.L.K., Uncle Smokey and I saw our first adult-entertainment together when we were still too young to appreciate it. It was dad’s night to watch us and, on the way home from work, he stopped at The Warehouse and rented a copy of Flash Gordon the movie. Dad put the movie in our brand spanking new VHS machine, and went to make some Jiffy-pop popcorn. Unbeknownst to him, the rocket scientist working at The Warehouse had placed “Flesh Gordon” in the box instead. A subtle but important difference.

Dad sauntered back into the room, dropped his can of Olympia and dove for the TV. Two stunned boys sat on the couch with eyes like ping pong balls. We all lost a little innocence that night.

Flesh…. ahhhh ahhhh he saved every one of us…. Guest art by the man who made this moment happen our father. David Peterson

Kids today? Now…they Google “naked ladies” and get some terrifying German thing where you don’t know where the girl/guy starts and the robotic Schnauzer ends. Progress? Trauma? Maybe…I still think kids have it too easy these days.  Oh and for you young bucks just making your way, you’ll probably get slapped if you try half that internet stuff.