Battle Cries of The Sexually Dysfunctional: Part I

It was recently pointed out to me that I write about sex a lot. You think this has been a lot??? Oh, honey, you just wait...

But, for the record, yes, I am fully aware that I write about sex. A lot. And I plan on writing about it even more. I am also fully aware that this may be somewhat due to the fact that I am 38 and single. But even more than that, it's due to the fact that I just really, really love it. A lot. Most people think they like sex, but I am convinced that not everyone does. And this absolutely baffles me. Almost as much as the fact that there are people that don't like chocolate. What the hell is wrong with some people? We're talking about sex which is, like, the greatest invention ever!

I do not believe in having sexual hang-ups. Of any kind. I do, however, believe very much in people being clear and honest (with themselves above all else) about their own personal sexual boundaries, comfort zones, appetites, desires, and responsibly engaging in the free and healthy expression of said boundaries, comfort zones, appetites, and desires.

To be perfectly honest, the real reason that I write, and think, about sex so much is that it absolutely fascinates me. Early on in my life I was subjected to severe sexual brain damage. The tug of war between what I was taught at church and what I experienced on Castro Street in the early 80's was a freakin' nightmare.

The object lessons we were subjected to in Young Women's were shameful. In short, we were taught that if we french kissed too much, allowed boys to touch our breasts, not to mention our nether parts, or if we, heaven forbid, "self abused," we were likened unto a chewed up piece of gum, a squeezed out orange or a smooth, clean board that is suddenly, and violently, pounded full of big, nasty nails. Funny how those specific lessons always lacked any mention of the atonement of Christ - which I always thought was the whole point anyway.

I personally know men that were both sent home from missions for masturbating and those that were not allowed to leave until they had eliminated the "problem" from their lives. I was also blessed with many a quarterly bishop's "No Dry Humping" talk to the BYU students in which we were warned against the evils of oral sex. One even called it "dirty," "disgusting," and "animalistic." And, though leaders carefully tout that "whatever is mutually consented to in the bedroom is okay," the official stance is still that oral sex is a sin. (This, in my opinion, is cause enough to run away.) So, later I said to this specific bishop, "You used some really strong language regarding oral sex. Who exactly were you quoting?" To which he smiled broadly and replied, "Well that's the beautiful thing. Before marriage there is one set of rules, and after marriage there is another set of rules."

And that, to me, is the real mind-job that sets the stage for enormous sexual dysfunction. When something is so deeply ingrained in us as being vile, disgusting, sinful and animalistic is that belief seriously supposed to just magically change on our wedding nights? Hell no. I had many, many friends that were completely freaked out after having sex with their husbands for the first time and were desperate to confess to their bishops. Far too many young Mormon couples get married, freak out, can't figure things out, can't fully enjoy what they are doing, and then, just when they should be settling into it, they get pregnant. Again and again and again. Then they are tired. Then overwhelmed. Then resentful. Then often, by the time the wife is finally in her prime and they could really be enjoying an amazing sexual relationship, they are no longer speaking - let alone rockin' the bedroom.

With the exception of the very Mormon parents of one of my best friends, who modeled for me probably the only healthy sexual relationship I was aware of growing up, my adolescence was filled with overly righteous people who were completely screwed up sexually. They ranted and raved about the depravity and dysfunction out there in the "world" without ever once taking a look at the sickness that was oozing out of their own pores and infecting the young people they were spiritual custodians over.

After reading my blog, one of my mom's friends sent her an email stating how amazing it would be if I could teach the young women of the church now. Holy shit, could you imagine? Oh, the things I would make sure they questioned, thought about and understood. Which is precisely why that will never happen. Sigh.