I will be posting the following on www.segullah.org blog on the 30th. For my faithful one or two readers (okay, I'm probably the only faithful reader), you get a sneak preview.
WARNING! CONTENT MIGHT BE OFFENSIVE OR WITHOUT MERIT! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!
My fourteenth anniversary was a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t know what to buy my husband to celebrate the auspicious occasion. After much searching, the Hugh Nibley and Mormon Tab CD I settled on didn’t seem quite what I was looking for. I wanted to get him something a little more racy. My online dictionary says that means: 1. Mildly shocking because of references to sex. 2. Full of energy or spirit. 3. With a distinctive quality or flavor. 4. Piquant in taste or smell. I wanted a gift that had all of the above. If one or any of these definitions has disquieted you, please stop reading HERE.
In our small Mormon town, a new shop has opened up that is called Husband and Wife. Three gigantic photos of beautiful couples embracing span the windows. These carefully placed window designs are meant to hide what is inside and entice desperate anniversary gift seekers to enter. It is a place to buy “intimate” items.
I was a bit nervous about going in. It wasn’t like this store had a thousand Walmart customers crashing through the doors. There wasn’t a soul in sight. I was greeted by a man in his early twenties.
“Hello. Welcome to Husband and Wife. What can I help you with?”
(Hmmm, what can this young punk know about anniversary gifts?) “I’m just going to look around, thank you.”
I couldn’t take it all in at once. Near the door, there were books by Carolyn Pearson and other LDS authors on the counter. There were bookmarks with scripture quotes, plastic roses, and lovely necklaces that could rival those in Deseret Book. My brain froze for a moment. Is this the right place? Am I in Deseret Book? I was just there buying my other boring gifts. Then I turned. There were racks of lacy teddies and see-through robes. Along two walls stood rows of plastic thighs (like the lamp in the movie The Christmas Story) with different types of nylons – black, fishnet, lace, or gartered. The back wall was full of perfumes, lotions, and potions for any need. I perused. I strolled. I started laughing. It was just too contradictory for me. The young man approached.
“Can I help you find anything?”
Guffaw. “I’ve never seen anything like this place. It’s a Mormon porno store.”
His face turned deep red. His eyes bulged. I immediately saw the error of my hasty words. He turned abruptly and walked away. It was pretty obvious, HE WAS MAD!
“That is exactly the image that we were not going for!”
Suddenly, I felt really bad for what I said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, etc. etc. etc.” I don’t want to bore you with what ensued. Let’s just say, I felt bad enough to the tune of forty dollars spent on four one-ounce vials labeled Kama Sutra that have yet to be opened. When he started explaining how to use them, I ran out of the store. Why be humiliated anymore?
So, what is the point of this story? As Mormons, what is our cultural sexual identity? Do we have one? I ask this question with trepidation since in our religion sex is seen as a very sacred act and is rarely discussed. Yet, based on plethora of primary kids in my ward, it happens a lot. As Mormon women, do we see ourselves as sexual divas, dowdy and repressed housewives, or as somewhere in between? How do our men see us? Unbeknownst to me, are women out buying purple teddies and garters and then going to the Distribution Center to get garments? Are we, as Mormons, content in our sexual relationships? Lots of questions. For a fieldtrip, perhaps we can all converge on the shop Husband and Wife. The owner might have the answers. If not, we can at least pick up something that is racy.
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