Mom! I lament—Grandma just hung up on someone who was calling for me!
After listening to what I have to say
Mom knocks at Grandma's door, which opens reluctantly
Ma, what's going on?
Too many boys are calling her. You know what that means!
I stand there, utterly confounded
Grandma, I don't understand. What does that mean?
Grandma's glare flings this question into my ear:
What are you doing with all of those boys?
As I prove so naive as to have no clue what
Grandma's negative attitude is referencing
Here is my reply: We go to the movies or bowling …
Though Grandma's silent glare makes me shrink back
I still don't know what she's getting at, but Mom does …
Ma—what do you think Annie is doing?
Mom's reaction points to the fact that Grandma believes
I'm guilty of 'putting out'
Oy! It's not the boys who have the wrong number—it's Grandma!
(Remember me? I'm the one
Who'd pushed every guy who'd turned me on, away!
I'd pushed those guys away, because of my inability to
Differentiate between sexual excitement and anxiety.
As soon as any guy, who'd made my blood race
So much as made a move on me, I'd ice up—why?
Because sexual attraction offered nothing but danger for me
Once, after kissing a guy, good night, my date stepped back and said:
Something's wrong ... Kissing you feels like kissing a wall …
And he was right, because my defense system
Had put up a wall, denying my conscious awareness access to
Any impassioned reaction, which
For sound reason, had frightened me half to death)
By the time I catch Grandma's drift
My mind is so dumbfounded as to cause
My jaw to hit the floor ...
Grandma—I don't let any of them near me. I barely let anyone
Kiss me, good night!
Then why are so many coming around?
Can't it be because they like me?
Because I have a 'good' personality?
At this, Grandma's nostrils flare, and she actually snorts
If you, like Grandma, can't believe the degree of
My naiveté, then clearly, you have a lot to learn about
The impact that denial, resultant of PTSD, had upon my conscious mind
When girls were screaming and swooning while
Elvis was crooning, I thought they were nuts
The first time I saw Elvis swiveling his hips
I took him for a comedian, and that's the truth!
As I had no clue that fear had anesthetized my conscious mind to
Acknowledging so much as even a hint of sexual chemistry
The underlying meaning of
Come on baby, light my fire
Passed way over my head
Had I entertained a conscious clue of
What my dates were thinking to do with me ...
Or what they'd felt when
The music was slow and
They'd held my body snugly against their own
I'd have spent every weekend evening with
Grandma, watching TV
I wasn't just a good girl
I was a terrified girl, through and through
Though Mom forbade Grandma from hanging up on
Any guy, who'd continued to ring me up—
There was one guy, who'd won Grandma's respect and
That respectful guy had been Will …
If you wonder why we broke up—
Please stay tuned …
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