Rumple Foreskin
The AH Patriarch
- Joined
- Jan 18, 2002
- Posts
- 11,109
Last month's issue of the Atlantic Monthly had a longish, and IMHO somewhat rambling, essay by Caitlin Flanagan on what many believe is a rise in young teenage girls willingly performing, often at their instigation, acts of "casual" oral sex seemingly devoid of romance, guilt, or expectations of anything in return from the guy.
The Atlantic Monthly will only let you quote the beginning of articles unless you're a subscriber, so only the first two paragraphs appear below. But I thought they still might serve as a starting point.
Other than the obvious male response of "Where was this fad when I was in junior high?" does anyone have any thoughts on the issue?
Rumple Foreskin
==
Are You There God? It's Me, Monica
by Caitlin Flanagan
The Atlantic Monthly | January/February 2006
The first time I heard a mother of girls talk about the teenage oral-sex craze, I made her cry. The story she told me—about a bar mitzvah dinner dance on the North Shore of Chicago, where the girls serviced all the boys on the chartered bus from the temple to the reception hall—was so preposterous that I burst out laughing. The thought of thirteen-year-old girls in party dresses performing a sex act once considered the province of prostitutes (we are talking here about the on-your-knees variety given to a series of near strangers) was so ludicrous that all I could do was giggle.
It was as though I had taken lightly the news that a pedophile had moved into my friend's neighborhood. It was as though I had laughed about a leukemia cluster or a lethal stretch of freeway. I apologized profusely; I told her I hadn't known.
The Atlantic Monthly will only let you quote the beginning of articles unless you're a subscriber, so only the first two paragraphs appear below. But I thought they still might serve as a starting point.
Other than the obvious male response of "Where was this fad when I was in junior high?" does anyone have any thoughts on the issue?
Rumple Foreskin
==
Are You There God? It's Me, Monica
by Caitlin Flanagan
The Atlantic Monthly | January/February 2006
The first time I heard a mother of girls talk about the teenage oral-sex craze, I made her cry. The story she told me—about a bar mitzvah dinner dance on the North Shore of Chicago, where the girls serviced all the boys on the chartered bus from the temple to the reception hall—was so preposterous that I burst out laughing. The thought of thirteen-year-old girls in party dresses performing a sex act once considered the province of prostitutes (we are talking here about the on-your-knees variety given to a series of near strangers) was so ludicrous that all I could do was giggle.
It was as though I had taken lightly the news that a pedophile had moved into my friend's neighborhood. It was as though I had laughed about a leukemia cluster or a lethal stretch of freeway. I apologized profusely; I told her I hadn't known.