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 In 1981, when I was 14 years old, there was a show on ABC that was basically a ripoff of Saturday Night Live. It was called Fridays, and pretty much the only reason it's worth remembering is that it was my first exposure to The Plasmatics' Wendy O. Williams (who came out onstage in her infamous shaving cream bikini), and it spawned the career of Michael Richards, who would later play Kramer in Seinfeld. But there was a young comic actress on the show who I had a major pubescent crush on. I have trouble identifying what informed my fixation, but her name was Melanie Chartoff, and she was the fuel for many a schoolboy fantasy. At that time, Chartoff (who would later perform the voices for the characters Didi and Minka for the cartoon series Rugrats) would have been about 25 years old.  At the time, I couldn't imagine anything greater than for her to barge into my room and do awful, dirty things to me. (Shit, Wendy O. could have done too, for that matter, though she was a bit intimidating to a teenager who had just sprouted pubes.) It was a potent fantasy, one that fueled my later attraction to another older woman, my high school English teacher, Mrs. Jaqua.When I think about it now, it was a pretty weird relationship. Because I was practically a genius compared to the idiots in my inner-city high school, it was natural that I'd be Mrs. Jaqua's pet. She caught me a few times after I'd freshly smoked pot during a recess, and only ribbed me about it. She even busted me when I once ghost-wrote an essay for my pot dealer, who had her in another class. My fantasy lady was cross, but in the end took no action. Mrs. Jaqua was a beautiful, voluptuous woman, kind of like a cross between Sigourney Weaver and Lesley Ann-Warren, a definite M.I.L.F. (Mom I'd Love to Fuck). She must have known I had a crush on her—I remember the almost painful erections that resulted from our after school sessions (I was eventually her assistant when I was a senior). Of course, by this time I was 17, old enough to have a full beard. It could have been my hormone-fueled imagination, but I could swear there was some sexual tension between us. She cried when I graduated, and my mind was reeling with lust when we embraced for the last time.  What would have happened if she'd have indulged my illegal fantasy? For years I gleefully assumed that it would have only been a wonderful experience, like when that kid hooked up with the M.I.L.F. in American Pie. But after seeing clinical evidence to the contrary, and hearing stories from other people who were underage and had sex with older authority figures, I'm not so sure anymore. (On a side note, I would just months later lose my virginity to a slightly older authority figure.)These people often feel exploited, if just on a subconscious level. It influences their later relationships in a negative way, leaving them feeling like the only way they achieve happiness in a situation is through being controlled and taken advantage of. But many people believe, as I have, that different standards apply to a 40-year-old female teacher having sex with her 17-year-old student as would toward a converse situation. However, does it make sense to assume that a boy of high school age is more in control of his emotions and desires than a girl of the same age, when conventional wisdom holds that girls mature quicker on an emotional level?  So, unless you're comfortable applying a gender-based double standard (and I'd like to make explicit that we're not talking about NAMBLA here or anything—clearly, despite my earlier Chartoff fantasy, there's no way either a 14-year-old boy or a 14-year-old girl can make a truly consensual decision about sex), it appears that you have to opine that both are intrinsically exploitive or it's all good, pending consent.At the risk of sound heretical, my instinct would be to say that, like most things in life, the repercussions of such affairs are purely contextual. Honestly, if Mrs. Jaqua had bagged me in my senior year, I doubt it would have had much of a traumatic influence on me (seeing as the crush alone was enough to set the standard for my first sexual encounter anyway). But I could imagine scenarios where it may not have been such a good idea. What if my sexual identity hadn't been so clearly, unambiguously defined? What if I had suffered abuse as a child, sexual or otherwise? What if my scholastic career could have depended on staying in her favor? Or worse yet, what if she'd been some psycho, like these some of these teachers you see in the news, hell bent on bearing their student's love child? So, in light of hearing of other people's experiences, maybe Mrs. Jaqua did me a favor. Sure didn't feel like it at the time.
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