Monday, May 27, 2013

Sleeping with the Enemy

I knew what he was when I picked him up. He referred to children as baggage, openly mocked heavy people, told me men are engineered to cheat, and only dated women without food allergies because he did not want to change his eating habits. Still, I was drawn to him.  Hypnotized by his charisma and knowledge of the outside world.  He was so real. He did things shamelessly. This man was also an Atheist. The opposite of everything I was supposed to desire.  The first time we kissed he just leaned over and kissed me. No apology. No hesitation. True to Mormon form I was awkward and confused. I’ve never dated a Man before. Only Mormon boys who were ashamed of their sexuality.

The first time we made-out he tried some things no man has ever tried with me. The way he moved his hand and his body was so different and so gosh darn sexy.  I was in another world and I never even took my shirt off. 
While he was on top of me he said, “God, I want to F^@k you so bad!”

I was shocked!  No man had ever said anything like that to me before.  It was like he found me to be desirable. I knew I was supposed to believe he was a monster for wanting to have extra-marital-pokey-poke, but honestly, I’ve never been so turned-on in my life.

I told myself that I would not have sex with someone unless he was my boyfriend. Oh but I wanted to! I even started doing things that would have made me have to talk to the bishop. One night after pretend pokey-poke, I started drilling him with questions about NOT being mormon. I asked him as if he was the authority on all things non-Mormon. I just wanted to understand his world.  Eventually he just said:
“That’s it! No more questions.”

“I’m just trying to understand your world. Don’t be mean.”

“Look, if you want a nice boyfriend, go back to the Mormon church.”

Despite his disposition of being an ass, I was excited at even the thought of him.  I wanted him to come over often and at night.  I tried very hard to be sexy for him but sexy and me have never really hung out.  Funny? Sure. Quirky? Absolutely. Sexy…honestly? Maybe when i'm really comfortable with a guy. I like being silly. One night I invited him over.  I put on sexist underwear (Sexy?). I even had a silk robe and black high heels. I wanted to tear into him like he was a pack of gum.  As the countdown quickened, I grew frightened.  How stupid of me to dress like this! My fear got the better of me and I put back on my jeans and T-shirt.

Right before he arrived, my brother called me, livid.  He heard from my Mom I was questioning the church.  He yelled at me and told me I did not have the right to leave. That now that I knew the truth I would be punished severely for leaving. I told him I was just looking at the history.  He said I was not inspired and did not have the right to study the history.  That the only history I should read should be the Book of Mormon.  It was a nasty conversation full of fear.

When Rob came over we began to play, but this horrible overwhelming guilt hit me.  My brother’s words put me in a state of panic. It was like the entire church was watching us. Monson, Holland, Oaks.  I stopped everything and whipped out my computer.

“Whao! What? What’s wrong?” said Rob.

“Oh... hahaha just um… Ah just um give me a minute.” I frantically hit Google and started typing “Reasons why the Mormon church is untrue.” I needed that kick in the face to remind me I was brainwashed and everything I was feeling was programmed in me.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Then he made the sound of a penis dropping.  
“Sorry,” I said. “Joseph Smith is the ultimate Cock-Block isn’t he?”

We started playing once more but this time I was locked in my head. Questions started rising.  Out of nowhere I ran into the bathroom again (See: the ‘S’ Talk).  I sat on the commode confused and angry at the Church, at my brother, and mostly myself.  After a minute I came back out of my shelter to find him fully dressed and annoyed. 

 He looked at me and said, “I’m gunna go. I’ll call ya later when you get your shit together.”
Why couldn’t he understand what I was going through? Why I was so frightened? So confused? This is uncharted territory for me. Maybe my world was just too much baggage…or maybe he really just didn’t care—after all, I knew what he wanted, and it had nothing to do with me.

“I just have one more question,” I said confidently. “Are we dating? Not exclusively of course, but is this something to you?”

His words drew near to me but his heart was far from me. The look on his face was all I needed to hear.   

Monday, May 20, 2013

Mother May I

“So Mom, I was making out with this guy last night-”

“Well that’s nice honey, but did you know his last name?”

This is a common exchange between my mother and I.  No, I’m not a huge slut but my mother likes to tease me about how I have on occasion locked lips with a stranger. A NCMO(nick-moe) as Mormons say. It was never more than kissing but I thought I was soooo bad.  Now I have actually seen a real life penius and promtly ran into a bathroom from it,  I’ve realized I was small potatoes in the sexual veggie garden. Or should I say small carrots. 

It’s rather strange for a mother and daughter to be this close.  Ever since I was a child I have told my mother everything.  She really has been my best friend.  Every heart ache, every bumped knee, every time I peed the bed.  (I’m 26 but accidents happen) When I started to even question the church I would stamp out that fire because of my mommy.

When my older sister left the church and it hurt my mother deeply.  One day I remember my mother was almost in tears.  She asked me if she had done something wrong.  If it was her fault that she left the church. People say that if your child leaves the church, well then it is the parents fault.  My love for my mother kept me fighting to believe.

When I had my Mormon Mental Breakdown my mother was the one who encouraged me to come home and get help. She got me to the metal hospital where I could finally talk about Mormonism without worrying if Joseph Smith would hear me.  I realized that one thing was keeping me stuck in the church.

“But you cannot live your life for your mom,” my therapist said, “You have to make your own choices and hope your mother will respect that.”

“but I love her so much. How can I do this to her?”

“You’re not doing anything to her by leaving.  You have to live your life for you not for her.”

“But I’m not a bad person. If I leave she will be so upset and think I’m a bad person.  But it’s not like…I..,” I was going to say murdered anyone, but I was in a group therapy with some people who had very dark pasts. So I lighted it. “It’s not like I murdered a puppy!”

“My father murdered a puppy in front of me when I was child,” Said a tormented soul.

I usually felt bad in group because my life really was so much better than the other unfortunate souls in the room.  My parents loved me and did not shoot puppies in front of me.  My mother loves me and wants the best for me.  She would do and often does everything for her children.  I was a Gym with my mother.  I had brought a book with me without even thinking.  It was called No Man Knows My history. Before I could hide the book it fell out of my hands. My mother saw it before I could scramble it back into my sweater.   Her eyes caught fire.

“This is very famous Ant-Mormon literature. What are you doing with this?”

I decided to play dumb.  “Oh gee…really.  I saw it at the library and I figured I would give it a read. Have you read it mom?”

“Well no, but when I joined the church I remember it was on the black list. The missionaries warned me not to read it. Stay away.” Said Mommy

“But the author is an accredited historian. Are you sure it is (sigh) Anti-Mormon.”

“Oh yes.  She is a notorious Ant-mormon.” Said Mother Dear

“I read she was the prophet’s niece and was given all sorts of access to Mormon documents and that she loved the church until…look Elder Uchdorf told us to question the church and that is what I’m doing.  There is nothing wrong with that,” I asserted

“That’s fine but don’t read that.  I will help you find some books about Joseph Smith that are not so bias.”

“Okay,” I regretfully shrugged “That book was really long anyway.  I didn’t really want to read it.”

The next night I came home from work.  I flipped on the light in my room.  The book Rough Stone Rolling was sitting on my bed. This was the church’s answer to No man knows. I love my mommy.  We are unnaturally close.  I secretly hoped my mother would be by my side
thru this.  I hoped I could tell her everything.    Now I understand why some people don't tell there parents everything.  Now is my moment of truth. I have to let myself become myself despite years of prosecution.  I was standing on a rough stone.  Just waiting for it to plummet down the hill. Clearly I need to be more careful around  my mom.  Something I have never had to do.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Pick up Chick

  Pool Game? Wait... no. There are no balls. What is this?  On closer inspection I saw the pool table was covered.  At both ends were cups filled half way with alcohol.  One man had a small white ball that he threw at the other end.  It bounced off the rim and rolled onto the floor. Oh my goodness…this must be BEER PONG!  I have heard of this game before. A common drinking game for the non-chosen people.  Would you believe that I live in the beer drinking capital of the world and had never seen a game of beer pong? I felt somewhat privileged to be witnessing it.  I wonder how many Mormons have ever seen this.  It was fascinating.  I found it odd that this little white ball would roll around on the grimy dirty floor and then land in a cup of beer… and then they would drink it!  They fooled themselves by placing it in a cup of water that probably has more germs then the floor.  

I was not at this bar to point out the obvious hygienic flaws of beer pong.  My goal was to have a conversation with someone.  Preferably a girl.  I need a girl friend who is not Mormon to show me the ropes. In Mormon land I had tons of girlfriends.  I have nothing to offer a woman of the world.  Men seem to like to talk to me because of the whole sex thing.  I had been using online dating to meet people(or should I say ceeple).   In Mormon world I am really outgoing and popular.  I knew the rules in Mormon land. I was in the outer darkness now and all the woman travel in packs.  I had heard that it is okay for woman to go to a bar alone and talk to people. But it did not seem to work for me. This was the fifth bar I had been to that night standing alone. (Later someone pointed out to me it works best if I actually sit at the bar and order a drink. How was I supposed to know that!)  A really pretty Asian woman walked by me.  In my head I shouted “Be my friend. Talk to me!”  But she didn't even notice me.  

I was about to try my luck elsewhere when a very bearded man started drunkenly flirting with me.  Great.  Just what I need.  Another creeper.  He was playing beer pong and he suggested to me that I talk to his opponents to distract them. Okay here is my opening. I walked up to the men at the other end of the table. Just act natural. 

“Hi” I said, “That guy told me to flirt with you.”

It worked! I started having a conversation with one of the young men. 

“You have never seen beer pong before!?”, He said

“ha ha.” Don’t mention your Mormon, “What are you doing in the city?” Nice cover, me

“I’m getting my degree. Where did you go to school?” he said

“Ah…” Don’t mention your Mormon. “Out west. It was fun.  I also lived in New York City. I’m new in town.”(lies! I grew up here. But I grew up on the other side of the Vail)

“Oh well you’re in the beer capital of the world now so you have a lot to learn. Hey we are about to start the next game but my friends over there are cool.  You should go talk to them. That’s Mattie.  She is new in town too.”

A girl! A real non-Mormon Woman! Gosh how is my hair? Okay relax and just strike up a conversation. About what?  She is sitting alone texting on her phone.  I just need an opening line.  How do men do it?  Um… hey baby…or you look familiar…or did you fall from Heaven?  Golly! In Mormon land I would just talk to her about anything but I was so tong tied. I sat next to her for about 5 min drumming my finger nails and biting my lip. What to say? Hello, have you read the Book of Mormon? AH! No. How about something about her clothing?

As I was fidgeting trying to find the courage to talk she got up and left.  Well I blew it.  There goes my one chance at a woman friend.  She went over and started talking to the Beer Pong Guy.  He pointed at me and she came back.
“Hi. I’m Mattie.”

What I wanted to say, “Mattie! Thank God!  I have so many questions. Do all men just want sex? Should I watch Porn? How do you drink beer? How do I use a dildo?  Will I get an STD if I touch a guy’s dick?  Should I take birth control now?  Are all men mean? I met a guy on line who told me if I want a nice boyfriend I should go back to the Mormon Church.   Have you ever had a boyfriend? What happens when you get drunk?  I drank coffee last week.  Ha!  Do you like Sex? I’ve never had it, but I know a guy who would have sex with me if I wanted. Is a guy hitting on you if he says he wants to make you scream? What if he says, ‘I want to put your feet in his mouth?’ Why would he want to put my feet in his mouth? Should I let him put my feet in his mouth?”

But instead I just said “Hi”, Smooth move me. 

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Happy Vally

I was primping for another date.  Only his one was different from my normal horrific sleazy online creepers.  My older heathen sister set us up.  I love my older sister but she can be a little…dramatic. She started the conversation with “you will like him” to “I always wanted to make out with him” and finished with “don’t worry I told him all about your plan for an invento baby if you never get married.” God, thank you!  I was dreading the inevitable invento baby talk that is typical of a first date.  My sister was 99% sure he was no longer a Mormon. She knew we would fall in love and have a lovely post-Mormon family.  I was only in Utah for my little sister’s wedding and had no intention to start a long distance relationship but I figured it would be nice to spend some time with another post-Mormon.

When John picked me up I started right into the church crap.  He was right there with me. We did hit it off but I soon discover that John not only was he a Mormon but he was the Elders Corm President!   That basically mean he is the best Mormon guy in his ward.  He was unlike any Mormon guy that I ever met. He didn’t judge people and supported my leaving the church.  He left the church for two years… he really really left…and he came back. The life he lived would destroy any person Mormon or not.  He was a bouncer. He knows all the problems with the church but came back anyways.

“How can you do it John? How can you ware those garments and want to get married in the temple again?”

“I just realized I was happier in the church. I focus I the things I know to be true.”

My sister was texting me during the date.  I decided it was time for a little pay back.

“Oh he is wonderful.” I texted, “You know he is Elder’s Corm Press and he has really opened my mind to a lot of things about the church I never understood.  Making me re-think this.”

My phone rang instantly, sister in a panic “What! He is Mormon?  I’m so sorry.  Don’t listen to anything he says.   I’ll come get you. Where are you?”

John and I laughed, “Oh we are in his hot tub, hang on let me get my swimming suit back on.”

I think it’s cool John wants to be Mormon. He know   the history of Joseph Smith and he is okay with it.  It's the people who don't know i feel sorry.  Like me.  The walls of Jaricho come crashing down one day and your left standing naked. 

Needless to say my sister flipped her lid when she discovered she had set me up with the enemy.  She begged me not to see him again but I liked John.  John saved me from making some big mistakes. He talked to me for 5 hours.  John seamed to understand what I was going through. He didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. Can you imagine, an Elders Corm President who was not judgmental? He really is a wonderful guy and he is the type of guy I hope to find someday. Frist time in my life where I would not date a guy because he wanted to get married in the temple.   I liked him so much I asked him to be my date for the wedding. I had to fight my heathen married sister for him.  For some reason she wanted him to be her date. Gosh...

At temple my heathen sister and I waited in the temple holding cell.  We were rather irreverent.  John was there and stopped my us from having a blow up. John was able to help me forget the trauma of the temple wedding. I really had a blast at the wedding reception and when something Mormon triggered me he was there.   

At one point at the reception I stopped and looked around me.  Old friends and familiar faces.  Most were Mormon some used to be but all were just there to have fun. I’m a Mormon.  It will always be a part of me and that is not bad.  Before I met John I’ll admit that my biggest fear was I would bounce.   Leaving the church is huge culture shock and a lot of people can’t make it out.  All these rules are gone and in their place a new world that makes no since.  John showed me another side.  He knows the church is not 100% true but there is good in it. Heck if I lived in Utah I might even go to church sometimes. I would love to be a Jack Mormon. They have the best of both worlds.  As I was visiting old friends in Provo I remembered the community they have.  It was all warm and fuzzy.  Can I be happy as a Non-Mormon?
I was raised a Mormon. That is my life. That is who I am.  It’s the only life I have known. I never really wanted to leave the church. I was happy as a Mormon. I remembered how comforting it was to have instant friends.  You get to live very simply.   It’s a magical place where you are promised a Happy Ever After.  Eventually Santa takes off his beard and all that left was a fat greasy man with nacho breath. You can still wait for presents to appear under the tree, or you can go out a buy yourself an XBOX… Or maybe you can go the store buy your XBOX , wrap it, and stuff it under the tree marked “From Santa”.  Either way you got what you wanted so what does it matter how you got there?            

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Off White Wedding

I had to run. It was all I could do to keep the damn from bursting.  I took a big swig of my brother in-laws beer in hopes that I would calm my nerves.  I didn’t even try to hide it from my family who were all happily making camp. Lucky no one saw.  I grabbed my I-Pod and headed for the wood.  I search for any song with the word “hate”.  I thought if I could experience the rage in song it might save me from blowing up.  It did not work.

I let out a rough gravelly full lung scream.   A wrath filled howled as I fell to the ground. Gushing tears. Within seconds a grizzled man in a golf cart pulled up beside me.  
“Are ya okey hun? Why ya crying?”, said Golf Man

blood boiling, “I should have been there!   I should have been a part of this.  The person I love more than anyone on this planet got married.  I was literally feet away from her and I missed it.”

“Oh…are you a Mormon?” he said

“NO! I’m never going back!” I yelled “They preach all this crap about family and yet as far as I know they are the only Christ based religion that teaches families can’t be together forever.   I go to a lesser heaven if I drink, even if I’m good?  I can’t see my sister get married because of my underwear? It’s sick!”

My little sister got married and I missed it.  There is nothing you can say to make that okay.  Some have reminded me that the wedding in a mormon temple odd. Let me make this clear…my little sister could have gotten married in a KKK uniform in a Wal-Mart clearance aisle and done the entire ceremony in pig laten and I would have still been moved to tears.   

 Growing up I always wanted to be a good example to my sister.  When she was 3 I used to play school with her.  I taught her how to spell which if you read my blog you will see the irony.  When she took the ACT she got a 24 which is more than really good.  I also introduced her to theater where she met her “5” best friends. I taught her to play guitar. I taught her it was wrong to write with your left hand(she blames me for her bad hand writing now).  I even taught her how to play Dungeons and Dragons which her new husband loves.(NERD)  When I left for collage my parent’s marriage was struggling.  She was home alone with them but I called her constantly to make sure she was okay.  When we were at BYU we did everything together. I remember driving her to a Jujitsu tournament and watching her get strangled by her opponents.  Oh that killed me.  I wanted to jump in and punch them.  This paragraph could go on and on…

When the “inciting incident” happened my sister was right there.  She came in my room while I lay on the bed shaking and crying.  I thought God had a plan for me?  Yet every single aspect of my life was crashing and burning.  My sister came over and held me while I cried.  She told me to pry and read my scriptures. I baulked at this. I had been. She looked at me concerned and almost crying. 

“I’m worried,” she said, “that if you don’t stay close to the church you won’t make it through this.”

3 weeks in a mental hospital, one month in Europe later, and I am better than I ever have been in my life.  I did it with the help of God, not the church.  My God loves me and knows me as the kind loving strong person I am.  He could care less if I drink coffee, or ware a tank top.  He doesn’t need my money, or me to pledge allegiance to Joseph Smith. He wants me to share my smile and help others and love them.  Now that I left the church I’m happy.  I never think about killing myself.  I am making friends with people whose company I enjoy.  I’m grateful I left UT.  With all this happiness I dread the day I tell my little sister I’m not a Mormon.  What kind of example is that?

An old boyfriend of mine, Andy, agreed to take the pictures at her wedding. I was glad he was there.  We never had a love connection but he was a good friend.  My friend John(who will be in my next post) was there and my heathen sister as well.  I was glad to have them.

  She looked stunning.  More beautiful than I have ever seen her.  When she walked out the doors my eyes exploded with tears.  Tears of sorrow and a hint of joy slid down my face.  I stood back silently sobbing, watching complete stranger congratulate my sister. They were able to witness it.  While the maid of honor was punished for never vowing to give her life to the church.  Then a beautiful moment happened.  My sister saw me in tear and came and hugged me.  Just me.  This was my moment.  Again she held me as I cried.  Andy my old BF captured every moment of it.  I hope he sends me every picture because when I think of my sister marriage that was it.  Those few seconds where I told my sister I love her and was happy for her. For just a moment I was not a post-Mormon in hiding.  I was the older sister who was able to see her “little one” in a wedding dress. 

In retro speck, I wish I had gotten my endowments (magic underwear).  I don’t believe it is true so what did it matter.  I guess it proves I’m a good person that I didn’t.  Temples are sacred to Mormons so I should respect that.  Though I frequently day dreamed about throwing my hands up in the middle of an endowment session and saying “WHAT THE F#&K! NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT THIS CRAZY SHIZZ!”  Then storm out.  It does not matter now.  I will do my best to remember the good from her wedding day. The reception was beautiful.  It was fun and I was able to forget the traumatizing event at the Jordan River Temple.  I was able to give a toast that was both tender and embarrassing to my little sister and danced like mad.  When the time came for her to run to the car I panicked and turned to a bride’s maid.

 “Oh shoot did anyone decorate the car?”, I asked.

“Don’t worry” said Molly Mormon, “we took care of it.”

“Like HELL you did, give me that!” I said

I bolted for the door, pen in hand and sure enough the car was decorated, but not a single penis donned the windows.  I hurriedly drew as many dicks as my hand could. (I am sort of an expert now that I have actually seen one.)  The church may have taken away the wedding ceremony but it was not going to deprive my sister of the dirty honeymoon drive.    When she saw the car everyone laughed. My sister almost cried she was laughing so hard.  The funniest thing was seeing all the Mollys and Peter’s so upset screaming, “We didn’t draw that! Who did that?”

“I did,” I Shouted, “and if it weren’t for me there would not be a single DICK on that car…Your welcome.”

I still cry when I think of my sister wedding.  I think of her wedding a lot. This will pass.  Someday maybe I will get married.  I hope I do.  If I do no temple will be in site.  My whole family will be invited Mormon and Non-Mormon alike.  Maybe then I will be able to forgive Joseph Smith.  Maybe then I will accept my sister’s “wedding” as a wedding.  Maybe then I will be able see a photo from that day and not cry. Maybe then but not today.