When I think of the type of sex education I received, it is difficult to define. Formally, I can point to the “sex talk” my father—a biology teacher for over thirty years—gave my brother and me, probably around the time we entered puberty. From what I remember, it was a technical talk, though to be honest, I don’t remember much at all, perhaps the result of awkwardness-induced disassociation. Knowing my dad, this is what I can hypothesize occurred: We were told, whether individually or together, about what happens when a sperm meets an egg, and how pregnancy occurs. I was raised Catholic, went to Sunday school until I was in seventh grade, learned the catechism and made all the sacraments (Baptism, Reconciliation, Communion, Confirmation); so the assumption, unspoken or otherwise, was that I would wait until I was married before having sex. I believed this would be true, and that this was the right way to do things, until I was at least seventeen years old.