Not in my Head
There are some things I do not want stuck in my head, like where the conversation was headed this morning with The Mushroom. I had to stop him or get a lobotomy. I was lucky enough to stop him.
My brother can be fun to chat with and I enjoy hearing him laugh. It seems like he hasn't had much to laugh about for a while: divorce, his kids turning away from him, the usual garbage from his ex-wife. He was laughing today, but not the kind of giggling that comes with talking to my cousin Tricia. That's a whole different ball game. Tricia has what would be called today learning disabilities and is mentally challenged. A phone call with her, which lasts for a minimum of 2 hours unless I suddenly have visitors or cops at the door, is mostly giggling with a teaspoonful of conversation. She is like a kid on laughing gas. Not so The Mushroom.
I called him this morning to get the details of Mom's funeral and we moved on to other subjects, like his Xmas trip to London to meet his (up to now) online girlfriend. I was a little surprised that he wasn't bowled over by London -- and he did see a good bit of London -- but he was there for a week (what was he doing?) and didn't have time to get to everything. He got into that confessional mode and I put on the brakes and cut him off at the door. I could tell by his laugh that what was coming I didn't want in my head -- not now and not ever. Not from my brother. It's just too . . . ewwww. I have enough unerasable images in my mind from his marriage, his early years, and even more than 20 years have not been sufficient to eradicate them.
Of course, it didn't help with Dad's description (that girl screams like a mare in heat) or Mom's horrified indignation (He has a migraine and she just won't let him alone.). Definitely too much information. I could barely look at the Sock Monkey without hearing her high-pitched squeal crashing through the upstairs bedroom door and filling the entire house. They were across the hall from Mom and Dad's room and still kinda, sorta newlyweds, which I understand, but doing that in our parents' home was a bit much.
Okay, so my new husband and I did the same thing once upon a time, like nearly 40 years ago, but we were quiet. How were we to know Mom would burst through the door with a go-to-hell hat she found to give to my husband? The door was shut for a reason and I know she knew about knocking and privacy. She drilled it into us often enough. She meant the bathroom, but the principle is the same.
And it is the same with certain private matters that should remain private and not be hinted at, discussed, or confided to older sisters. Just because we're related doesn't mean I want to know that much about him -- or anyone. I'm 0/3 years again and I don't want to lose my almost revirginized status -- or my virgin ears.
I got the funeral information and an update on his next trip to London (May 2012) and the wedding date some time in 2014. I expect, since he cannot stay off Skype with London Girl he won't be able to resist spreading his whores moaning all over the place. It's best we keep communication to a minimum. He can call or email with details, but he must keep it clean. There is no more room in my head for mares in heat or whatever sights and sounds have replaced them. I'd rather keep my fantasies to myself and untainted by The Mushroom's antics.
Ewwww! I just had a mental regurgitation of some Filipino honey he met on leave during his Navy cruise to the Mediterranean sitting on the bed next to him in his jockey shorts. Now I'm going to need bleach again.
Knowledge is wasted when it isn't shared. ”
—J M Cornwell
About JM
Although chronologically middle-aged, I still feel like a youth except on those mornings when time, temperature and joints more used to sitting and typing than running, walking or just moving remind me I have been around a while; then I'm about 432.
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We all have our less than
We all have our less than "ideal" moments and fall short of self-actualization, but there's something to be said, as you indirectly do here, for the old truth that since we define ourselves and our essential "being" in large part by the sum total of our thoughts, statements and actions, I agree with you that some "editing" is appropriate, first, to establish a preferred identity and, secondly, to preserve that identity against instrusions such as you describe. And it would promote a certain social decorum and civility if others would do a little similar "editing" of their own behavior!
I don't know your brother and related motivations/explanations at all, of course, but if a friend or relative of mine would behave similarly, I would take such behavior as an attempt to "build status" if not a psychological "signal" to be recognized or in an existential way, to assert his "being." As such it's almost a kind of "reaching out" or cry for help.
Hats off to you for speaking up on a sometimes taboo topic that is too often "swept under the rug" as though its underlying realities do not exist.
I do not think my brother was
I do not think my brother was building status or trying to be recognized, just to share some parts of his life. He's excited. He is in love and he wants to make everybody a part of that. Between my sister and I, sex and private topics are not taboo, but it feels awkward and a bit embarrassing to to talk about those topics with a brother. You should hear the way women talk, but it's women talking, and not like the way men talk when they're together.
How many of us would be comfortable talking or even thinking about our parents having sex, and yet we know that in order to have children, sex was involved. The idea of parents having sex is an uncomfortable topic for most children. I also put children discussing their sexual partners with parents in the same category.