Back in the day, you couldn't just Google "dick" and learn the birds and the bees in ten seconds from your Smartphone. No siree, Bob. You had to walk to school up hill both ways and find out about dicks the hard way: from an old fashioned papyrus-based anachronism known as a BOOK.
That was my experience, anyway.
My parents' apartment contained a smattering of 70s erotica lying around in the open. One was a coffee table book called Erotic Art of the West, which I'm guessing certain readers of this blog might recall. It was sort of like an academic version of Playboy with paintings from various periods in art history depicting dicks, boobs, and everything in between. I would gleefully and proudly display it whenever my grade school friends were over, and we would cackle uproariously at paintings of women who looked like the Queen of England blowing knights and stuff like that.
Once, I found a book whose title I recall being Black Pearl. But in "researching" this blog post, all I could find was a young adult novel by that name, and this was definitely not that. Not at all. To the contrary, this book repeatedly used an old adult word I had never seen or heard before, though I deduced from the context that it was a bad one. It began with a "C" and rhymed with "hunt." Naturally I asked my mom for guidance. "Ugh. Give me that," she said curtly, snatching the book from my hands. She opened the door to our apartment and promptly marched down the hall to the incinerator chute, where all discarded objects too big to flush down the toilet went to die.
Not long after that, I unearthed a medical thriller called Fever by Robin Cook. In one of the very first scenes, the wife of the successful cancer researcher and main protagonist "encountered [his] erect penis." Again I sought motherly advice. She rolled her eyes and--apparently abandoning the incinerator solution--said, "C'mon honey. What do YOU think that means?"
Welcome to sex-ed taught by a psychiatrist.