Pistachio Rebellion
For me, the taste of rebellion will always be pistachio ice cream. Like many children, my parents treated me to ice cream on a semi-regular basis. Most flavors at the ice cream shop were up for grabs, though a few were off-limits. My mother, you see, was an idiot. She specifically forbade flavors like Rum Raisin and Daiquiri Ice because she actually thought the Baskin-Robbins put alcohol in them. As a child I didn't know any better, and they didn’t look particularly appealing anyhow, so that was fine with me. But it was another forbidden flavor that forever cemented my sense of defiance: pistachio.
My parents would repeatedly and outright forbid pistachio. And there was absolutely no logical reason for this. I had no nut allergies, and they knew full well that I regularly consumed fresh pistachios at a close relative’s home. So why on earth would they forbid the ice cream flavor? I asked this very question as a child, and their response was a harsh “No pistachio! You won't like it!”. Repeated attempts to procure this prohibited delight were always met with a blanket refusal. Once, on a weekend visit to my grandparents, they took me out for ice cream. With my parents away, this was my chance – or so I thought. But once again, my grandparents repeated the same mantra. They must have all conspired about this with one another.
“You won't like it!” they bellowed.
“But I like pistachio nuts!” I pleaded.
After much protesting and a borderline public tantrum at this absurd injustice, they finally relented to a small sample. “Show him!” they called to the clerk. “Show him so he can see he won't like it!”. The uncomfortable clerk handed me a shallow paper cup with a wooden stick stuck into it. I lifted the taboo brew to my lips, and it tasted like a creamy and heavenly version of the nuts that I (and they) knew that I loved so much. Most of all, it tasted like rebellion.
“It's good! I like it!”, I exclaimed. “Can I please have a whole cone of it?”
“Not now! Maybe next time.”
As you can probably imagine, next time never came.
This preposterous behavior shouldn't surprise me, really. These are the people who looked upon the sewer that was late 1970s New Jersey and said to themselves, “Ah yes, we must bring forth more people to enjoy this paradise”. I will forever be enraged at the ones who summoned me into that arena of mediocrity.
And so it came to pass that mediocrity itself would eventually become my nemesis, for my family’s pistachio prohibition was but the introductory instance of people telling me what I would and wouldn’t like based on their experience; not my own. Or hell - sometimes it was based on absolutely nothing at all.
As infantile as it may seem, sexual and romantic partners can sometimes take notes from the very same playbook as parents do. Perhaps you’ve had a similarly paternalistic experience with a sexual partner: one where they don’t take your desires seriously, or don’t make any attempt to understand them, or dismiss them out of hand because they don’t fit in neatly with their view of you.
Maybe you have a kink that you’ve tried to put out there but it keeps getting swatted down; like when a child says something that offends parental sensibilities and Mom disapprovingly quips “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that”. Maybe you learned about a sexual subject that excites you but your lover seems checked out; like when a kid displays an earnest interest in something, only to be met with a tepid “That’s nice, sweetie”. Worse yet, perhaps you’ve quarreled with a partner older than yourself who has tried the very sexual thing that interests you and they pull rank with the old “You’ll understand when you’re older” cliché; their hubris on full display as they try to convince you that because it didn’t work for them, that it can’t work for anyone.
Why do they do it? I think one reason may be because, too often, people see only the qualities and personality that they wish to see rather than the reality of a person. It’s like they’ve already got a clear picture of what they’re looking for and they’re gonna make you fit; square peg and round hole be damned.
Or maybe it’s just a question of capacity. When it comes to romantic feelings, I think we’ve all met a person who we just can’t see in that way. Similarly, despite being romantically and sexually attracted to us, sometimes a lover just won’t be able to want us in the way that we need to be wanted. That’s a hard thing to come to terms with but it’s something we all deserve. And it’s something worth fighting for. Sexuality is not some trivial preference - it is a vital aspect of one’s being. It is not something to be put on the back burner unless you yourself decide to do so.
For those out there who genuinely wish to be the cool uncle rather than the stern parent, let me share an insider tip: sometimes the signs are subtle. A person won’t necessarily make a big proclamation of their sexual interests for fear of their partner’s reaction. Pay close attention to questions and comments made in passing, because sometimes below these hides an ocean of curiosity and interest.
My own past experience with these matters was a rather peculiar case of sexual aspiration. No less than three separate therapists have observed that my situation was “a very interesting case”; noting that they had never encountered a situation quite like this before. One of these therapists even counted among their former clients a notoriously neurotic celebrity, so having been given this distinction was quite the dubious honor indeed.
Briefly put: my ambition was to be a big ‘ol slut - to be an adventurer and, at least in a personal sense, a pioneer in the realm of sexuality. I knew in my heart that I was a hedonistic slut of the highest order but I kept meeting former party people who wanted to renounce their sluttiness (if they had any to begin with) and settle down. Now, there’s nothing wrong with wanting such a change or such a lifestyle, but that’s something both partners naturally must be on the same page about. Furthermore, for an aspiring floozy like myself, it was highly insulting to be seen as the safe, boring person to settle down with (and, by extension, settle for).
Your experience with this kind of parental policing will likely be different, but whatever it is about your sexual expression that you wish to explore further, don’t give up fighting until you’ve tasted every flavor that you want to taste. You have but one life and one sexuality. Know thyself and speak up for your desires sooner rather than later. Find and surround yourself with those who take your desires seriously, and remember to offer the same generosity in return.
We don’t have a choice when it comes to our parents, but we absolutely do for our lovers. Choose wisely and don’t let your lover become a parent to your desires. Then join me in a cone of pistachio ice cream with your middle finger fully extended in the face of anyone who would lead you down the path of mediocre flavors.