Sexting Mom

Last Saturday, I was the featured storyteller in an improv series called Lafayette Famous. I was asked to prepare three true stories from my life to be delivered onstage, while the improvisers created scenes based on themes from each. This is the one of those true stories, written as a monologue.

Story 2: Sexting Mom

So when I was in college, I dated this guy for years and we had a very healthy sex life. And we were actually very sweet to each other too: We would walk to class together and often run into each other on campus.

Well one day, I pass him on Rex Street and we kiss each other and we keep walking in opposite directions. So I arrive at my Louisiana Folklore class and I sit down, and I get a text from my boyfriend and it says the grossest, most sexually explicit thing I’ve ever read.

Then I get a text from my mom and I hurry up and close that and go back to my boyfriend’s text.

So now he and I are sexting, right? And now I have to top his text, so I write something even more graphic. I’ve probably said grosser things by now because I’ve gotten more creative with age, but at the time, my response painted a pretty disgusting picture of what I wanted this boy to do to me — using words like “ride” and “squirt” and “chest.”

So I send it, and I wait for a response. But nothing. 10 minutes and nothing.

Then I get this sinking feeling in my stomach and I check my outbox and realize something:

[LONG PAUSE]

I accidently sent the text to my mom.

Sitting there in my Louisiana Folklore class, I have a full-blown panic attack and turn beet-red and grip the edges of my desk and make all these weird noises and Dr. Wilkerson comes over and she’s like “Hey, what’s wrong?!” And I say, “It’s my mom!” Which is a very scary thing to say.

And then my mom texted me back.

And it said:

“That was obviously not for me. I’m very disturbed.”

And I didn’t go home to New Orleans for three months.