No Room

One time my sisters and I took my Dad to get frozen yogurt in the middle of the day and he started telling us about having sex with someone in the back of his car. I think as soon as it became clear that he really was talking about what he was talking about, we all eyed each other for a second, the way you do when you're about to back out of a room with a skunk or a hand grenade in the middle of the floor, and then something weird happened: we all became our child selves. One sister closed her ears and started singing, the other one got up and left the table, and I tried to change the subject. "This yogurt is really... cold" and when that didn't work, I made comments to myself out loud, "Isn't this the sort of thing you talk about with your buddies?"

What is it that makes this sort of conversation with your parents so not cool. Is it the visual? Is it the vulnerable? Is it the visual/vulnerable combo? I'd like to think, yeah whatever, I'm cool, good for him! But as soon as I get there I think No, I can't. All I know is that I have room for a lot of things in my imagination, but my Dad's sex life is not one of them.