My fiancé and I are getting married in two weeks. However, my mom just gave me some really weird advice for my wedding night, and now I don’t know what to do.
My family isn’t religious. But they’re a very proper bunch. They believe in “good old-fashioned values,” like: work hard and you’ll achieve the American Dream (yeah right, in this economy), recognize your husband as head of the household (the 1950s called and want their misogyny back), and… of course… no sex before marriage.
So, my mom sat me down and decided to give me “the talk.” Two weeks before my wedding. At 23 years old.
“I want to talk about your upcoming wedding… and the wedding night,” she started.
My jaw nearly hit the floor. “Uh… okay?”
Talking about sex with my mom would be hard enough. It didn’t help that one of my headaches was coming on. But for all her flaws and backwards values, my mother really was a kind and loving person. It wouldn’t kill me to sit and listen to her for ten minutes. Even if I felt like I was going to die of awkwardness.
“I know this is all going to be new to you. And it’s scary. I remember being a little scared, with your father.”
I nearly choked. “Mom, please—”
“I want to prepare you. So, my first piece of advice is: it will hurt.”
“Listen. I, uh, don’t really need to talk about this. I think I’ve learned everything I need to know from… the internet?” My mom was still under the impression I was a virgin, and I wasn’t about to blow my cover now. “So maybe we should just—”
“Just let me say my piece,” she interrupted, with a sudden bite in her voice. I glanced at the wooden doors—which she had slid shut, so my father wouldn’t hear—and sat back down on the floral upholstered chair.
“Sorry. I just want to prepare you the best way I can,” she said, when I’d sat back down. “So, as I said: it will hurt. It will hurt a lot. It will hurt so much, he may beg you to stop. But you have to keep going.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Uh… what? He’s going to beg me to stop?”
I expected her to correct me and say “you may beg him to stop.” But she didn’t. Instead, she nodded.
“That brings me to my second piece of advice,” she continued. “As you probably know, there may be blood. That’s okay, and totally normal. Just ignore it until everything’s over. Then it comes off nice and easy with a bit of cold water.”
I swallowed. This was getting way too awkward, way too fast. “I actually have a pretty bad headache,” I said, getting up. “So maybe we can talk about this later?”
“Oh, speaking of headaches,” she said, ignoring my question, “you might get a headache after. That’s totally normal too. It’s not common, but it does happen.”
Sex headaches. I’d gotten them occasionally, and they absolutely sucked. “Okay, what else?” I asked, trying to get this conversation over with as soon as possible.
“You should start before midnight. On the first day of your married life.”
“What, that’s like, a good luck thing or something?” I asked.
She broke into laughed. Like I’d told the funniest joke she’d ever heard. “You’re so funny,” she finally said. “Anyway. My last piece of advice is: use this on your lips before the act.” And she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bottle, filled with clear liquid.
Is that lube?! The blood drained from my face. “Okay, uh, I really don’t want to talk about this with you anymore,” I said, standing up, rubbing my head. “And I’m definitely not going to use… that… when we have sex.”
She blinked.
“Sex? Why would you use it for sex?” Then, suddenly, she broke into more laughter. “Oh, no wonder you’re acting so weird. You think I’m talking about sex!”
I stared at her as she laughed, a pit of dread forming in the bottom of my stomach.
“No, dear, I would never talk about that with you! That’s your business,” she said, waving a hand away. “I’m talking about the ritual of Ka’til.”
“… Huh?”
“You know. How us Sampsons have the parasitic crabs Ka’til living in our brains. And how we have to spread it to anyone who officially enters the family. So on your wedding night, you apply this sticky stuff to your lips, make a perfect seal against his mouth, and let some of your crabs crawl into him. He’ll be in pain, but it’s a necessary evil, you know. I did it with your father, and my father did it with my mother… et cetera.” Her lips stretched into a grin. “It’s a tradition as old as time.”
I stood there, absolutely frozen. My heart pounding in my chest. Feeling the world tilt away from me.
Then I raced out of the room.
My headache was worse now. Way worse. And all I could picture were dozens of tiny crabs, crawling across my brain. Or maybe… inside my brain? A wave of nausea hit me and I ran to the bathroom. I threw up, then desperately checked my vomit for crabs. Thankfully, I found none.
Now it’s 2 AM and I’m lying awake. Matt has texted me a few times, but I have yet to answer. There’s no way I can subject him to this. I just can’t do it. My headache is gone, but I almost feel like I can feel them, skittering around inside my head. And how many of my thoughts are my own, versus these horrible things?
I know I have to cancel the wedding. But maybe I can just live with Matt. Maybe he’s technically not joining the family that way. Maybe he’ll be okay. On the other hand… I should probably just let him go. I love him too much put him in even the slightest amount of danger.
What do you think?