For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge

 

Let’s jump right in and talk about the word “fuck”.

It’s a polarizing word, isn’t it? There’s no real middle ground with fuck, it’s either a word that rolls off your tongue naturally…or it makes you cringe like crazy.

I’m in the first camp. Those who know me are saying “DUH!”. Or, more likely, “fucking DUH!”.

My first encounter with fuck came when I was five, not even in kindergarten yet, and some older kids were writing dirty words on the sidewalk with chalk. I remember like it was yesterday…grabbing that piece of oversized purple chalk and copying what an older boy had written in front of my house. I had no idea what it meant, but I was certain my mother was going to be very proud that I wrote my first word, so I ran in and dragged her out to witness the miracle. And I suddenly found myself getting yanked back inside by the elbow, going “What the…?” But since I didn’t yet have the vocabulary to complete the exclamation, it just sort of hung there.

And then my mother shoved a bar of soap in my mouth.

I was five. I hadn't been taught to read or write yet. I had no idea what was happening.

But I knew that whatever that thing was that I had created, it had POWER. And I needed to know more.

I also have wondered my whole life why I got my mouth washed out with soap when I didn’t SAY anything. My mouth was not involved at all, until it suddenly had a bar of Ivory in it. I guess shoving a bar of soap into my hand wouldn’t have had the same effect.

But that is how my long love affair with the word fuck began.

I grew up in a family of cussers. We all spoke fluent Construction Worker, even though nobody was one. Even the bird swore in my family (THAT will be a whole other post). My husband, however, did not grow up in such an environment. He grew up in a southern Baptist family in east Tennessee. Most of his family wouldn’t say shit if they had a mouthful. And fuck is completely off the table. At the top of the no-no ladder is taking the Lord’s name in vain, and fuck is the rung immediately below it. I learned that the very first time I went down to meet the in-laws.

Matt’s family loves to play Dominos. And one time during that visit we had a game going and I made a bad move. And everyone suddenly went silent. And they were all looking at me like my hair was on fire. And I thought “oh fuck”, and I started rewinding the tape in my head to figure out what I might have said, because sometimes I don’t even realize I’ve uttered a BAD until it’s out there.

I apologized profusely. And really tried to watch my tongue for the remainder of the visit, but I did have the occasional slip-up. So on our second trip down there, when we pulled up, my husband shut the car off, turned to me and we had the following exchange:

MATT: What’s the first rule of Nana’s house?

CLAUDIA: Don’t say fuck.

M: What’s the second rule of Nana’s house?

C: Don’t say fuck.

M: And if you accidentally spill your coffee?

C: Don’t say fuck.

M: And if you smack your shin on the coffee table?

C: Don’t say fuck.

M: And if you lose at Dominos?

C: Don’t say shit. Or fuck.

M: And if you do slip and say fuck, what doesn’t follow it?

C: Ummm…You. Me. Him, her, us, them. It. This. That. A duck. Balls.

M: Excellent. And in what context do we say ‘God’?

C: Um, in church or praying?

M: Good. And God’s last name is not…?

C: Huh? (Pausing to think) Oh, Dammit. His last name isn’t Dammit.

M: Good. How about ‘Jesus Christ’?

C: Also in church. Or praying.

M: Good. And Jesus Christ’s middle name is not…?

C: (Pausing to think again) H? Horatio?

C: (Sigh) Fucking.

M: Excellent! Let’s go see Nana.

So what do YOU think happened the next time I barked my shin on the coffee table?