When I first saw the local production of Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues in 2001, I was an ignorant 17-year-old convent-raised bespectacled college freshman with no boyfriend.
There I was sitting in the middle of the audience in oh-my-God-I-forgot-where, companionless but very much comfortable, totally clueless of the onslaught of seemingly “vulgar” monologues. It was my first real sex education. And what a memorable education it was!
At the time, my young mind said, “Every 17-year-old boy should watch this.”