Ladies, don ’t go to the bed

Whenever I see my friend Vivienne, I make her trot out a well-worn story about how she first learned about sex. She’s probably told it a million times and I never tire of hearing it. One might say I’m obsessed with this story. I’m going to try to recreate it, but I warn you that it loses something in the translation.

On the brink of her sexual awakening, Vivienne came home from college to visit her Taiwanese parents. At the end of the visit, Vivienne’s mother turned to her in the car and said, in very heavily accented English:

- Vivienne!
- Yes?
- Patrick. He a very nice boy.
- Yes, mom.
(pause)
- Vivienne. Hugging, kissing. Is okay…
(pause)
...But DON’T GO TO THE BED!

You have to realize that this is a funny story when Vivienne tells it in a Taiwanese accent. It’s also funny because she promptly proceeded to go to the bed with Patrick anyway, amid a sea of Little Mermaid stuffed animals.

But anyway, the reason I tell this story is because it reminds me of something curious my own mother told me about beds. Like Vivienne, I was on the brink of something special - I was about to buy what is currently the most valuable thing I own: a double bed mattress. Frozen with terror and dizzied by choice, I called my mother from Sleepy’s.

- Mom! What the hell? These mattresses are ridiculously expensive!
- Mattresses are a good investment.
- But should I get the queen or the full? The queen is only $80 more.
- Not the queen.
- What do you mean? You sound weird.
- I’m just saying you should get the full.
- What? Why?
- Well, I don’t know what people would think.
- What do you mean? Because it’s so expensive?
- No…
- Mom! What are you talking about?
- If you get the queen, people might think you’re…
- Regal?
- …
- Loaded?
- …
- Mom – what?
- Loose.

I called my friend Elizabeth to confirm. Liz is half Cuban and all the way Catholic, so she would know.

- Liz, does a queen-sized bed make you loose?
- Definitely.
- Why don’t I know this? I don’t even have a boyfriend!
- Anything above a full and you are definitely having sex orgies.

Apparently, my friend also learned this piece of wisdom from her mother. Liz was poised to buy a king-sized bed (editor’s note: a completely absurd idea in a New York City apartment, but whatevs) and her mother literally threatened to disown her.

It’s true, though. That extra six inches does invite trouble. Like additional throw pillows. Or a casually tossed afghan.