tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39022525662562086522024-03-13T20:22:34.699-07:00Breaking Mormon ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-53368858639666938842021-01-21T12:41:00.007-08:002021-01-21T12:47:18.012-08:00THE END<p> </p><p>If you have found this blog CONGRATULATIONS. You were brave enough to look at something you know the church would rather you not. This is an online book started in 2013 when I first decided to leave the Mormon church. I wrote this as a "Do's and Don'ts" for young single people trying to make their way in the real world. Sex, Porn, and Coffee! I highly recommend starting with my earlier posts and working back to front. Learn from my misadventures friends. </p><p>When a cute boy ask "What are ya drink?" </p><p>Do Not respond with "what! haha! Water? Just kidding. I can drink alcohol. I had a wine once. I mean, I think it was. See... I used to be Mormon. It's this religion that I was, like, trapped in. AH! Did you know Josephs Smith had his own whiskey? He was my prophet but now I'm freeeeeeeee."</p><p><br /></p><p> </p>ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-72592770120102859712021-01-21T12:21:00.005-08:002021-01-21T12:46:18.407-08:00What Happens Next?<div style="color: #222222;">
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I was walking through a Wal-mart when I got the phone call. I nearly knocked over a display of allergy medicine to pick it up. The MRI was about a week ago and I waiting for the answer to, "am I going to die?" </span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">I remember laying in bed in excruciating pain thinking "Well, This is it. I may never know what happens next." It was like reading a novel and then finding out the last half of the book was gone. No ending. No reason. Never written. I wondered if my sister would graduate. I wondered if my parents would ever retire after giving all their money to the church. I wondered what would have happened with me and Alex. I imagined what our future might have looked like. Maybe we would have bought a house? Maybe we would have had children? Gotten married? Maybe he would dump me? Maybe I dump him? I would never get to know because I would be gone. Buried deep or burned to ash.</span></div>
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"> The first time I told Alex I loved him was not exactly epic. I<span style="color: black; font-family: Libre Baskerville;"> wanted to tell him "I love you" at the state fair. I had the perfect opportunity too; riding those sky lift chairs that go over the park. Then I realized if he did not say it back I would have to jump! So I waited until I was nice and drunk to blurt it out. He said it right back. The words I love you had evolved since then. Alex was more then a lover. He was becoming my partner. He was still here even though it was possible I would be gone. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">But right here, right now, with my hand firmly pressed on wall of Rogaine I was going to find out what happens next. Do I live or do I die? Perhaps I should make a commercial for Wal-mart. This aisle designed mostly for Hair restoration products was also the perfect location to find out "No Emma. You are not going to die." </span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="color: black;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #222222; font-size: small; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #222222; font-size: small; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G6HrXcZyp0I/YAnidt_dSEI/AAAAAAAAAvc/feFbKjds0FE0HTtKP8ZXXOq_ECILKEhnACLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="200" height="240" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G6HrXcZyp0I/YAnidt_dSEI/AAAAAAAAAvc/feFbKjds0FE0HTtKP8ZXXOq_ECILKEhnACLcBGAsYHQ/image.png" width="190" /></a></div><br /><b style="color: #222222;">It is cliché to say "life is short" or "Life is </b><b style="color: black;">preciouses</b><b style="color: #222222;">." As a writer </b><span style="color: #222222;"><b>I'm</b></span><b style="color: #222222;"> longing for something more poetic. How about this.... Life is like male pattern baldness. No one really knows how it works. You can spend your life obsessing about how to fix it. Or you can embrace the </b><span style="color: #222222;"><b>inevitable</b></span><b style="color: #222222;">.</b></span></span></div><div><span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><b style="color: #222222;"><br /></b></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><b style="color: #222222;"><br /></b></span></span></div><div><span><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif"><b style="color: #222222;"> </b></span></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="color: black;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="color: black;"><span face="arial, helvetica, sans-serif" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></div>
ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-8447804483026099412019-01-20T07:26:00.000-08:002019-01-20T07:26:57.505-08:00Perspective Illness Picking up from 2016<br />
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"I wish you would eat with your mouth closed.", Said Alex, "Its discussing."<br />
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My left eye was burning and dripping constant tears. My head had been pounding for over a month. I was not enjoying this brunch, I was enduring it. Why? I only left the church a little over a year ago. Alex and I had been seeing each other for almost a year. Maybe that was long enough. He was handsome and I did tell him I loved him but right now I love my spinach omelet more. Alex dropped me off at my messy apartment. Of course he had to comment on it. Yes, my apartment is messy but I'm also in agonizing pain, not that you give a shit.<br />
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I closed the door and thanked Eloham he was gone. I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, "Hey! I'm young, I'm hot, besides my leaking eye, but that will heal. It's time to end it with Alex. Time to find a new exciting never Mormon adventure. Time to unwrap a few more Penises! Once I get these weird attacks under control I'll send him packing". I had been dealing with these debilitating migraines for over a month. They should get better soon, right?<br />
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I was thriving in my new reality. I was killing it at my sales job as the top sales person. I was losing weight. I went from being a 27 year old Mormon spinster to a sexy young ex-mo temptress. Being desired is not part of Mormonism. Yet even with a boyfriend men were throwing themselves at me. Well... more of an awkward drunken stumble, but I liked the attention! All my mormon life I was never what men wanted. In the never-Mormon world I was the dream. I was naive and new. Alex was starting to feel old. Alex was not a bad guy. He is the first guy I slept with who I liked. It was settled. As soon as I felt better Alex was history.<br />
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I did not get better. I got much worse. The subtle burning in my eye turned into a volcano of never ending pain flooding over my face. As the doctor visits became more frequent Alex became more concerned. One day I was at the doctors again. He shot me up with the medicine that would give me a few hours of peace. Only this time it was much stronger then I could handle. The pain melted away but so did my ability to function. Alex left work to come save me from my loopyness.<br />
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"It could be a brain tumor. I'm going to schedule an MRI." Said Doctor Killmenow.<br />
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There is nothing like facing your own death to really put a damper on the evening. Alex put me to bed and started cleaning my apartment. He made me some dinner. Though eating was painful, I slowly chewed. I worked so hard to be independent of my parents and the church and here I was curled up in Alexs arms. Funny only a few weeks ago I was going to dump this guy. Now it looks like he will be the one dumping me. I wanted to save him the guilt of being the bad guy.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2LrQC7DCpfg/XEN8496bgzI/AAAAAAAAAq0/88DpamFXH_IfSlDv_VmvFVCUzGg9uTdTQCLcBGAs/s1600/picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1240" data-original-width="1600" height="248" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2LrQC7DCpfg/XEN8496bgzI/AAAAAAAAAq0/88DpamFXH_IfSlDv_VmvFVCUzGg9uTdTQCLcBGAs/s320/picture.jpg" width="320" /></a>"Your really quiet. Say something.", Alex Said.<br />
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This was it. Be nice and give him the out.<br />
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"Alex I know this has been a lot. I want you to know that it's okay if you can't do this anymore. I wont blame you if you want to go your own way."<br />
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There was a sharp pause.<br />
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"Don't even talk like that!" He said. Alex pulled me in tighter. "Come on! Talk about something else. You can chew with your mouth open, just keep talking."<br />
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In all my years taking about the importance of marriage with church firesides, etiquette night, singles mixers, marriage prep and temple prep classes, I was not prepared for this. This was love. Not the flowers he got me on valentines, not the dinners he made me, or the orgasms he gave me. This was something else and it had nothing to do with weather or not I had a temple recommend.ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-10846882663064515622019-01-19T10:30:00.001-08:002019-01-19T10:34:36.990-08:00Radio Silence Broken<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HzRohcF-StI/VrolYvOVftI/AAAAAAAAAlc/H5MdHSmxbxQ/s1600/7f4a3d659913049db40a9c346ebe3843e2fe87ffc657c1c1b4763ce14f6819b1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HzRohcF-StI/VrolYvOVftI/AAAAAAAAAlc/H5MdHSmxbxQ/s320/7f4a3d659913049db40a9c346ebe3843e2fe87ffc657c1c1b4763ce14f6819b1.jpg" width="320" /></a>You may have noticed my blog has been silent for a while and you probably thought I was dead. Well I very nearly was! I got a horrible Migraine that was unrelenting. It lasted a day... then a month...then five months then a year. The word Tumor was throw around by my doctors. Every day of my life was agonizing pain. I fell into a suicide depression. I almost lost my job and my life. Luckily with the help of Web MD I was able to correctly diagnose myself with Cluster Headache also knows as "suicide Headaches". Can you guess why?</div>
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Luckily the treatment is working. My eye sight has returned and I am ready to take on life again. Much like our fabled father I have raisin. </div>
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Once I found myself healed I decided to focus on writing my play. About 2 years ago I embarked on making this blog into a play. I spent over 1,000 hours writing this show. I produced it with a local theater company and played the lead role bases on myself. This was a life goal to take my story and put it on a platform everyone could enjoy. The show ran for a month and sold out most nights. It is the most important thing I have ever done. You can watch the recording <a href="https://breakingmormon.blogspot.com/2019/01/i-have-professional-recording-of-my.html">HERE</a>.<br />
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So now I'm really back to give my Blog an ending. So so much has happened. So much healing. I will be rewinding the clock to fill in the blanks.<br />
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The most interesting development was that of a man I thought I hated...</div>
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Something happened and only one person would have the info I needed...my Mormon Ex-boyfriend. A man who I have resented for about 3 years. I have called him a lot of names on this blog but now I will call him Ron. Ron was the guy I moved out to Utah for in a desperate attempt to find eternal bliss. Like many 26 year old single Mormons I sadly made my trek to the breeding ground. If I didn't marry Ron I was going to find another Mormon to marry. I had too. My Mormon life depended on it. </div>
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The thing I hated most about Ron was that he saw through my bull shit. He called me out for swearing. He judged me for not serving a mission or wanting too. When he dumped me he told me it was in part because he worried I might drink Alcohol someday. I was not living up to the churches standard for me and deep down I liked it that way. </div>
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When I unblocked Ron on Facebook I was expecting to see him in a white shirt and tie. I pictured him standing by his lovely Mormon wife holding their lovely new born baby. I imagined his page riddled with Elder Bednar quotes. What I was not expecting to see was Ron wearing ladies makeup covered in rainbows with purple hair. Turns out my Mormon-Ex is now an Ex-Mormon. All these years I resented Ron because he got to live the Mormon life. I loved being Mormon. The choice to leave I felt was forced on me. The "shit or get off the pot" mentality. Either get married and be Mormon, or question everything.</div>
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Reconnecting with Ron helped me let go of the jealously. The frustration that I could not blindly kneel at the alter and let the prophet tell me everything I need. Apparently Ron and I were both fighting the same fight. Ron now live in Portland Oregon and is exploring who SHE is. Thats right, Ron is a she. She is a pan sexual lesbian. She luckily married a beautiful woman who saw through the bull shit and they left together. Ron is now one of my favorite people to talk to when the church pisses me off. She is a really great gal. My anger toward the church was made into an Ron effigy burning with hatred. Sorry Ron, you were actually the perfect last Mormon boyfriend. </div>
ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-26906927975890596702019-01-18T07:59:00.000-08:002019-01-19T11:40:40.197-08:00Playing Catch Up<br />
The purpose of this blog it to help people dealing with the trauma of leaving the Mormon Church. Specifically younger single woman or men sheltered by overbearing ideas of a controlling lifestyle. Best to start with my first post and read your way back to front. <a href="https://breakingmormon.blogspot.com/2013/04/is-this-thing-on.html">Start here</a>. My fist post was 2 days after I realized I could never be a Mormon.<br />
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<br />ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-16225874789163236742019-01-09T14:32:00.003-08:002019-01-09T14:34:17.200-08:00WATCH MY PLAY HERE!<br />
I have a professional recording of my play! I would love to see another theater pick it up. I have it copy written and would be thrilled to see it done on any scale. The theater that produced my show is a not for profit. The links are below<br />
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ACT 1<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Wz2Sv8t-Lc&t=310s">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Wz2Sv8t-Lc&t=310s</a><br />
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ACT 2<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JsUhtBM7-pk&t=15s">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JsUhtBM7-pk&t=15s</a><br />
<br />ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-37652669611596923212018-02-17T11:58:00.001-08:002018-02-22T10:58:47.661-08:00I WROTE A PLAY!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I must say I am extremely proud of this show I wrote. It was picked up by a local theater and has been a huge hit. I spent literally thousands of hours writing this show. Lots of healing as well. Almost sold out every night with tons of laughs. And the best part is I wrote it, I play the lead AND it's about my true life experiences. </div>
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Check out the Trailer for the show here. And if you live in the Midwest make you way out! </div>
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<a href="https://vimeo.com/254974194">https://vimeo.com/254974194</a></div>
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ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-20206047256227011452016-03-11T13:51:00.002-08:002016-04-05T07:34:27.081-07:00Blessing in Disguise <span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So hear is a question for you. What would you do if you got very ill...and not just a flu or an upset tummy...like truly awful "do I need to make a will?" ill. Your parents arrange for you to get a priesthood blessing. What do you do? </span><br />
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When my mother told me she had contacted some Mormons in my town to give a blessing there was a large part of me that wanted to say "No thanks. I already rubbed a magic onion on my head." But when the word tumor is floating around Doctors offices you tend to back off form biting remarks. Did I believe that a priesthood blessing would stop whatever was happening in my head? No, tho I really wished it would. I admit I wanted to get back to God simply so I would not feel sick. I wished I had drowns of Mormons to come over and make me dinner, and talk to me, and tell me some dude in the sky was going to make everything okay.</div>
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I decided to let my parent arrange a blessing for me. My sister came over with her husband and an old family friend. It was really nice to see how much my family cared about me. I felt a little awkward participating in a blessing. They asked me who I wanted to say the main blessing and I wanted to say "My Sister!" How cool would that be for me to totally shake the establishment and have a woman give the main--Ouch oh i'm in pain!... It's hard to be rebellious and desperate at the same time. </div>
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I did really enjoy the comfort that came with the laying on of hands. People visiting me and asking me how I was feeling. Knowing my family was doing everything they could to keep me together. Helping me with food, cleaning, Doctor appointments, and anything else I needed. They were there fighting with me God or no God. </div>
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Thankfully the white light at the end of the tunnel was just a tiny doctor flashlight. I did not die of a brain tumor and after 7 months of doctors and drugs I'm back. </div>
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I think there is nothing wrong with letting your family support you in their own way. However, it did open a door. Yesterday some ass stole my guitar out of my car. The guitar I have had since I was a teen. My most sentimental possession. I called my Mother crying. I was a mess. Right there over the phone my mother insisted we pray that it is found. She stared praying while I frantically ran around my apartment. I was really annoyed. Like I was a 5 year old being told to say a prayer. </div>
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Turns out the "ass" who stole my guitar found it outside a bar and figured out my name, and gave it to the bar manager who was holding it for me...soooo yeah. I am the ass who forgot to put it<i> in</i> my car. My boyfriend Alex was the one who recommend I retrace my steps and call the bar. When I called my mom relived the Guitar had been found my mom said "Well it's a good thing we prayed". That annoyed me more.</div>
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I said it was a good thing JJ told me to call. My mom and I went back and for trying to figure out who <i>really</i> found my guitar? Was it me? Was it JJ? Was it God? Deep in my heart I know who found it. The credit goes to a mysterious man I have never seen before. He might have a beard, and might even ware sandals. One thing I know for sure... he likes Christie's Bar and Grill. </div>
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So hear is my question. Can you allow yourself to get a blessing one day and then argue that God doesn't exist the next? I don't regret letting my parents get me a blessing, but have I opened an annoying God door I can not close? I know thinking you are going to die and losing a guitar has a slightly different elements of urgency. How do you balance sticking to your beliefs against keeping the peace? </div>
ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-60321137558501692612016-02-09T09:45:00.001-08:002019-01-19T11:39:29.864-08:00Perspective Illness<br />
"I wish you would eat with your mouth closed.", Said Alex, "Its discussing."<br />
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My left eye was burning and dripping constant tears. My head had been pounding for over a month. I was not enjoying this brunch, I was enduring it. Why? I only left the church a little over a year ago. Alex and I had been seeing each other for almost a year. Maybe that was long enough. He was handsome and I did tell him I loved him but right now I love my spinach omelet more. Alex dropped me off at my messy apartment. Of course he had to comment on it. Yes, my apartment is messy but I'm also in agonizing pain, not that you give a shit.<br />
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I closed the door and thanked Eloham he was gone. I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, "Hey! I'm young, I'm hot, besides my leaking eye, but that will heal. It's time to end it with Alex. Time to find a new exciting never Mormon adventure. Time to unwrap a few more Penises! Once I get these weird attacks under control I'll send him packing". I had been dealing with these debilitating migraines for over a month. They should get better soon, right?<br />
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I was thriving in my new reality. I was killing it at my sales job as the top sales person. I was losing weight. I went from being a 27 year old Mormon spinster to a sexy young ex-mo temptress. Being desired is not part of Mormonism. Yet even with a boyfriend men were throwing themselves at me. Well... more of an awkward drunken stumble, but I liked the attention! All my mormon life I was never what men wanted. In the never-Mormon world I was the dream. I was naive and new. Alex was starting to feel old. Alex was not a bad guy. He is the first guy I slept with who I liked. It was settled. As soon as I felt better Alex was history.<br />
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I did not get better. I got much worse. The subtle burning in my eye turned into a volcano of never ending pain flooding over my face. As the doctor visits became more frequent Alex became more concerned. One day I was at the doctors again. He shot me up with the medicine that would give me a few hours of peace. Only this time it was much stronger then I could handle. The pain melted away but so did my ability to function. Alex left work to come save me from my loopyness.<br />
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"It could be a brain tumor. I'm going to schedule an MRI." Said Doctor Killmenow.<br />
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There is nothing like facing your own death to really put a damper on the evening. Alex put me to bed and started cleaning my apartment. He made me some dinner. Though eating was painful, I slowly chewed. I worked so hard to be independent of my parents and the church and here I was curled up in Alexs arms. Funny only a few weeks ago I was going to dump this guy. Now it looks like he will be the one dumping me. I wanted to save him the guilt of being the bad guy.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2LrQC7DCpfg/XEN8496bgzI/AAAAAAAAAq0/88DpamFXH_IfSlDv_VmvFVCUzGg9uTdTQCLcBGAs/s1600/picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1240" data-original-width="1600" height="248" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2LrQC7DCpfg/XEN8496bgzI/AAAAAAAAAq0/88DpamFXH_IfSlDv_VmvFVCUzGg9uTdTQCLcBGAs/s320/picture.jpg" width="320" /></a>"Your really quiet. Say something.", Alex Said.<br />
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This was it. Be nice and give him the out.<br />
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"Alex I know this has been a lot. I want you to know that it's okay if you can't do this anymore. I wont blame you if you want to go your own way."<br />
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There was a sharp pause.<br />
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"Don't even talk like that!" He said. Alex pulled me in tighter. "Come on! Talk about something else. You can chew with your mouth open, just keep talking."<br />
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In all my years taking about the importance of marriage with church firesides, etiquette night, singles mixers, marriage prep and temple prep classes, I was not prepared for this. This was love. Not the flowers he got me on valentines, not the dinners he made me, or the orgasms he gave me. This was something else and it had nothing to do with weather or not I had a temple recommend.<br />
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ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-38563894702890277652015-06-09T08:31:00.000-07:002015-06-09T08:31:10.422-07:00Pro of Leaving<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
I was flying back from Utah having just attended my sister wedding... from the side walk (see: <a href="http://breakingmormon.blogspot.com/2013/05/off-white-wedding.html">Off White wedding</a>) It was unfortunate timing that only a month early I had learned the truth about Joseph Smith and now I'm back in Utah. With my sister wedding I was in no position to break the news. I was surrounded by Mormons for a whole week smiling and thanking Joseph Smith for protecting them from the world. My tongue almost fell off from biting it. I boarded a plane thrilled to leave Utah and once again join reality. The ride out I sat next to an older Ex-Mormon with tattoos and a real "go get um kid" attitude toward leaving. I was hoping for a similar bonding experience on my way back. </div>
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"Maybe I will sit by an older Ex-Mormon woman", I thought, "who has actually had sex. Or better yet an Ex-Mormon man my age with blue eyes and a newly discovered sex drive. yumm..." </div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">As I was fantasizing about my my <i>Poisoned</i> </span></span><i style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">Peter Priesthood </i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">I noticed a pail slender man with the biggest smile shuffling down the isle. He was happily chatting with strangers and even helped an older woman with her bag. </span></span></div>
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"Oh God a Mormon!" I thought. "Please don't sit by me." </div>
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He was checking his ticket and looking right at me. His hair parted down the side his face perfectly shaved. This man had elders corm president written all over him.</div>
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"Looks like this is my stop", he laughed and sat right next to me. </div>
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Frantically I began digging in my purse, but before I could secure my ear buds I was bombarded with a load of questions. </div>
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"Hi I'm Tim. How are you today? Where are you headed? I like your shirt, where did you find it? Have you been to Utah before? Have you ever heard of-"</div>
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"The Book of Mormon. Yes. My sister is a Mormon. That's why I had to fly out here so I could NOT attend the wedding." I laughed. clearly my tactic of pretending I was not a Mormon was only inspiring more questions.</div>
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"Has she ever told you about what Mormons believe? I'm sealed to my wife. It's wonderful. Have you ever attend a ward meeting? Sorry, ward is just another name for church congregation."</div>
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Alright I was not doing another two hours of this. I'll just come clean and watch the fireworks. </div>
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"Yeah I know what a 'ward' is. I actually graduated from Brigham Young University but I'm not Mormon anymore." I said with just as big a smile. </div>
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Like a pro Tim change his tactic. But instead of defensive religious prodding he flanked me with a "Oh that's interesting. We all have bumps along the way."</div>
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Now I was getting defensive "Bumps? No no. I'm just not a Mormon. I'm just a normal person now." Before you know it I was were wrapped in a deep conversation about everything Mormon. And I was actually enjoying it. I had never been able to talk with someone about the church and have fear no repercussions. I was honest about my opinions. </div>
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Tim had an agenda. However, it was not to prove the church was true. He just wanted me to think about why I was leaving. He made some good point that at the time I had not considered. I confessed to him that leaving was hard and there were many aspects of the church I missed. </div>
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"Well why don't you make a list. Pros staying in the church and Pros of leaving." I Laughed at him, made some joke about him trying convert me. I took his pen and wrote. </div>
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As I wrote I got nervous. I could think of many reasons to stay Mormon. The stress of figure everything out was over whelming. </div>
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Then I moved to <i>Pros of Leaving </i>and I wrote "I get to be myself". I stopped. How can you top that. Of course there was other benefits but by caparison nothing beats being genuine and honest to who you are. </div>
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I'm grateful I met Tim. He was respectful of my choice and even helped me confirm it.You can not blame Mormons for trying to bring you back into the fold. Some people actually find happiness in the church. It's hard for me to believe but I guess they feel they are being there most genuine self...and I respect that. </div>
ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-39281762915858507952015-05-15T08:54:00.000-07:002015-05-15T08:54:05.779-07:00Story Telling<div style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I have recently taken up story telling. Professional storytelling is a fun creative way to tell your story with the expectation that it be hilarious. It's like stand up with Soul. I will post the podcast of the story here once I can. But for now here is what I preformed last month. abut 200 people were there. it was really fun!</span></span></div>
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I recently became un-engaged. The man I loved, the man whose life became the focus of my own gone. I was not good enough for him, or his money, or his religion. I was 26 and convinced I would die a virgin. As an escape from being single again, I boarded a plane to Europe. 2 of my best girl friends joined me. We saw Castles of Scotland, the Big Ben, The Luve and the Effie tower. Due to a mix up with our flights I would end the trip alone in Italy Rome. </div>
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The coliseum hung from they sky and sunlight cascaded though the archways. He dumped you. I marveled the the ancient architecture. It's over. Columns and fountains and statues. You blew it. Not good enough. Not Godly enough. The cobblestone streets were buzzing with venders but I couldn't hear them over my own thoughts. </div>
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"Chow Bella I have special price for you? How you lika take a walking tour? 35 Euros. includes a map with free gilato" </div>
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I buzzed past him...gelato...Maybe I will feel better. I circled the plaza 3 times in search of gelato. Finallys asked an old woman. </div>
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"sucie do you know where this gelato." </div>
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Suddenly up from over a bench lept a 6 foot 2 curly hair Italian man. </div>
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"You have come back Bella!"</div>
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It was that persistent tour guide. </div>
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"No...no no. I'm just trying to find this"</div>
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"Gelato? Come come. I know it-"</div>
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Before I could protest he had grabbed my hand and we were off. He spoke some rapped Italian to the store owner and then two massive gelato were handed to us. We sat at the grassy hill but this curly haired Very handsome sicilian seemed less interested in his dessert. </div>
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"why you so sad bella?"</div>
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"I'm fine. I'm just enjoying Rome" I lied. Gosh I thought. How am I going to shake this guy.</div>
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"I know this look. Please I beg you."</div>
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I smiled wide "I'm fine really...So what's your name?"</div>
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"Eiron" </div>
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My smile fell. </div>
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"Oh... that was my Ex's name"</div>
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"Oh my God! It is Destiny."</div>
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"what...No he was not a good guy." </div>
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"Oh yes I hate this Aaron! Stupied Aaron!" he yell on the top of his lung. People riding scooter watching him jump up and down "Stupid Aaron!" </div>
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This man was ridiculous. It felt good laugh</div>
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"those scooter look like fun. I wish I could zip around Rome on one of those"</div>
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"I have a scooter." We stared at each other for a moment. "Bella come with me and I will show you all of Rome?"</div>
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I'm not stupid. I recognize I am a single naive woman is a unfamiliar city sitting next to a very passionate stranger. I weighed my options, Sit here alone and think about the man who broke my heart or Take a crazy life changing scooter and maybe I might get Murdered. </div>
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"Lets do it!"</div>
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And we were off. Darting down the narrow streets. orange yellow white green blue brick building sped past. Nearly colliding with a Fiat Erion blasted his horn. I held him tighter my arms resting over his chest. We snapped a photo at forum, we buzzed passed the Boca. as we drove he yelled "Destiny" he yelled as went "Destiny"</div>
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but then he started to drive up into a neighborhood. seemed rather far from the tourist places. </div>
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"Where are we going?"</div>
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He did not answer. Dang it Lisa, I knew I was going to get murdered. I started trying to plan my escape route. Then we pulled into an enclosed dark parking lot. There was no where to run. He stopped in front of a large large green door. </div>
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"Bella come. I want to show you something." And he pointed to a notch in the door. </div>
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"Why?" </div>
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"just look"</div>
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"Why? Whats in there?"</div>
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"just look, please" </div>
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slowly I crouched down and peered into the hole. </div>
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"Wow...Wait. What is this?" I said. </div>
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"Look again" Deep lush green trees tunneled down for a mile and then there at the end perfectly centered the dome of st peter's basilica. We we miles away and it was clear as day. The most spectral site I had ever seen and it all fit in the size of a quarter. </div>
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What is this place. </div>
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"It is Italy's secret garden. Owned by the wealthy church. God himself told them it was to beautiful to hide so they gave us a peeking." </div>
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"This is so beautiful." </div>
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"No...Bella you are."</div>
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"Oh gosh, Your so cheese" Face flushed red</div>
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"Wha? Cheesy Bella you break my heart."</div>
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I laughed "Come on take a picture of me" And I posed by the door giving him my sexiest flirt-est smile. </div>
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Suddenly overcome Erion dropped the camera."Oh My God" Slipping one hand on my lower back the other behind my head and he... shoved his tough so far down my throat I couldn't breath. "Oh I'm sorry! I could not help myself"</div>
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I laughed And we kissed in front of the Green door we kissed at the forum. and we kissed at the coliseum... and a few Asian tourist. </div>
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And I felt something....Passion, Excitement, Shattering the shackles of my Mormon up-bring I allowed myself to feel. Whatever this was it was awesome. All my life God was watching me. Guilting me, Shaming me</div>
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Why would God give the gift of passion and to take it away. Giving us only a glips of what others experience. </div>
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ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-15521099051148129502015-03-17T15:26:00.001-07:002015-03-18T06:47:05.588-07:00Elna Baker<br />
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Today I was planing on writing a chipper piece about the finality of life and how all things eventually come to a terrifying end. But as I was trolling Youtube I came a crossed this...<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0uL_CKL9wg">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0uL_CKL9wg</a></div>
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...and was deeply deeply saddened. I'm not sure why I clicked on this link. Was it because I have always had a fondness for the storytelling art form? No of course not. God wanted me to click on this link and remember how I used to be...a sad and lonely Mormon girl, completely isolated from the world. </div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">The link is a funny story from Moth Storytellers about a Mormon Girl. She describes what is is like being a Mormon in the big apple. In the story she tells the story of buying a sexy lacy slip and only imaging some day she could ware this in front of a boy. She meets an amazing man who she clearly has a strong connection too. However, he is an atheist. As you can imagine the relationship falls apart. She insists he turn to God and he can't. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">There is a part in the story where she recognizes the end is coming. She comically described her wearing the lacy slip in front of him. The mental battle of wanting love and wanting Mormonism was supposed to be funny but just made my stomach turn. I was a 25 yr old virgin living in the NYC. I used to think I was saying "yes" by saying 'no". I used to settle for men I sort of like so I could keep my standards. I used to buy sexy underwear thinking no one would ever see them. I used to identify myself as "A Mormon". Everything in my life revolved around my sister of Zion identity. Joseph Smith was a bad man and it was painful learning about the filthy roots of the church. But the most damaging part of the Mormon faith was how the church infused itself into the fabric of what makes you YOU. I could see as she spoke how her love of the church was sustained by her fear of living without it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Her story of trying to seduces her Boyfriend, and failing miserably, reminded me of the first times I attempted to have sex...and failed miserably...</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Her story has reminded me how lucky I was to get out when I did. I </span></span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">saw my own cognitive dissonance and had the presence</span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> of mind to leave the Mormon Faith.</span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> Yes! There are still single sad Mormon woman out there. but they are not me. I got out. They have a choice to leave and they choose not to. I need to just forget people like her. Blindly giving up every-hang on...Wait a Minute..</span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">.Hold please...</span></div>
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BREAKING NEWS! <span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> Elna Baker left the church. A woman I just barely learned about saw her own cognitive dissonance and has had the presence of mind to leave the Mormon Faith. Phew!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> So apparently this girl is living her dream. After a little Facebook stalking I found out she still lives in NYC and works in the arts AND we have six mutual friends! Now that i think of it I'm pretty sure I met her briefly at a church activity. I remember her telling me the story of getting matching black eyes with a boy on a movie set. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">She made it out. I guess there is hope for Sisters of Zion living outside the temple box. </span></span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> </span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Here is a link to her story...</span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><a href="http://www.rookiemag.com/2012/04/losing-my-religio/">http://www.rookiemag.com/2012/04/losing-my-religio/</a></span></span><br />
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ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-23185538315896289002015-02-03T09:15:00.000-08:002015-02-03T09:15:03.363-08:00Loooong Term Love<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">
One year ago I walked into a bar alone. I had just moved out of my parents basement and out of the Mormon church. I was starting my new life, new job, my whole new world! Mentally my mind was still a mess of Mormon phobias. But determined not to fall back into the "loving" arms of the Mormon cult I pushed myself to participate in non-Mormon activities. This bar was doing a musical open mic night. I was to nervous to actually get up in front anyone so I had planned to just sit and listen. Thats when I met Alex. The rest is history....History?....<wbr></wbr>HISTORY....AHHHHH!</div>
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Alex and I have history. One whole year of history! I am freaking out. When I was Mormon I was always very judgmental of the non-Mormon tradition of dating for multiple years before getting married. I really thought less of the women who allowed this to happen. In Mormon culture 6 months is really all you need to know if he is the one. Maybe one year if you are "taking your time". God! I'm hunted by the numerous condemning conversations I have had with Molly Mormons about this. One story in particular pops out. </div>
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Mandy is getting married? But she has been living with her boyfriend for like 3 years...So then what are we celebrating? She has already had sex with him. They are acting married. Honestly I thought less of her for "giving it up" without a ring on it. What an idiot she was. Its so funny how she is excited to get married. As if it even matters. </div>
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Well now I'm a little Mandy in the making. I feel a tightness in my chest Just saying that. I can't help remember my one year rule. If I didn't know I wanted to marry a guy after one year I would be done. Engaged or it's over. </div>
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When you leave the church you have to replace so many old thought with new one. But some of the ideas you held on to subconsciously don't spring up until you are smacked in the face with them. Alex and I have been dating a year and I don't have a 100% idea of what our future holds. I simply can not comprehend a relationship past a year. </div>
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Every day closer to the one year mark brought me more anxiety. I felt I was supposed to do something. But then I had a moment of clarity. This is a problem I can not think my way out of. 20+ years of conditioning does not fade away. How did I undo my fear of Non-mormon men. I got to know them. How did I get over my fear of sex...I had sex. How did I learn to break out of everything. I tried new things everyday. Dating someone for a year is a new thing. </div>
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So I guess I have to lean into it. I'll admit the thought of dating someone for a year sounds like death. I hate the feeling. But I love Alex. </div>
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ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-36750200435092458072014-12-22T17:53:00.000-08:002014-12-23T10:27:10.211-08:00XXX-Mass It's that time of year again. Christmas trees all lit up, family togetherness and a little time off work! That is what Christmas means to me anyway. Of course that is not always how I felt. I forgot about the whole celebrating of the virgin who gave birth to the son of God thing. I find it funny how many Christians have selfishly decided that only christian have the right to enjoy this holiday. That it's wrong for people to focus on the joy they get from giving and receiving gifts. Don't forget how important it is to God that you sit in his church and learn the purity of some woman who was TOTALLY a virgin....Riiiiight. We live in a world that revolves around work and money. Well fine, I'll thank God I'm getting a few vacation days. <br />
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PHEWWW.....Okay okay I'm calm....But before I turn this post into a bitter diatribe about the religious grip of the X-Mass season I'm going to stop myself. This is not a post about God or Christmas. This is about family and how to navigate the crashing of worlds...and of course sex. <br />
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This is my first Christmas as a non-christian. My family has not even been in town for 24 hours and I have already been interrogated about my belief in Jesus and my sexual status. Here is where I had to take a breath and look back at <a href="http://breakingmormon.blogspot.com/2013/08/coming-out-ikea-mormon-closet.html">THIS</a> post from when I was first learning how to place boundaries.<br />
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Yesterday I walked into a Mormon church for the first time in a year. My family was all going to sacrament meeting. Just sacrament. I did not wish to go to church, but being the only non-Mormon home for the holidays I decided one hour would be doable. I wore pants and a purple sweater. Not as a protest but as a convenience. How liberating it feels to walk into a sacrament meeting with no concern for the opinions of other. I must say I'm very proud of myself. I didn't really pay attention to the speakers. Not out of defiance but rather out of boardom. It felt nice not to feel about the church.<br />
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Then I had a tiny moment of victory. A moment that warmed my heart only way being yourself can. <br />
Sitting there next to my brother sacrament plate appeared. There was all that torn up bread. This is the first time a sacrament plate had been placed in front to me since my de-virginizing. Naturally I thought, "Oh I should not take this." My hand jerked away from the plate. Then almost as fast I snatched up the biggest piece of bread I could see. "Fuck that!" I thought, "I'm not a bad person and also... I'm hungry." That bread felt good going down. Almost as good as it felt going down on my boyfriend the night before. mmmm....yummy.... dressed up like and Elf with a green a red panties. Striped knee socks and a Elf Hat. "Santa baby, I'm very good at making toys, would you like to see my wood working skills." HAHAHA! LOVE SEX PUN. They were flying like Santa's sleigh last night.<br />
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Alex and I did have a wonderfully fun and sexy night together. I made is snow and he plowed my driveway. We talked a lot and shared our love. I like dressing up for him. I'm lucky that I was able to leave the faith without being permanently scared by the Mormon chastity belt. I enjoyed all of my naughty thoughts as the deacons continued passing sacrament. <br />
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When the tray of sacrament water cups arrived I grab one and like a jello shot. I threw it back and slammed it. "Ah! That's good stuff " I said to my Mormon brother.<br />
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He pused a little shocked. Then he said, "That is weak, I could down a whole tray."<br />
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It's nice to see my brother join in the fun. Even if its just for a moment. I would say it was my best sacrament meeting ever. <br />
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<br />ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-55563523419205626452014-11-18T12:13:00.002-08:002014-11-18T12:13:17.097-08:00Suicide Awareness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I recently read an article posted by one of my Mormon Facebook friends about suicide in Utah. As you may know suicide in Utah is a real problem. The percentage of deaths due to suicide is 30% higher then the national average. The article was trying to claim Utah higher depression rate was due to the high altitudes. A nice theory but I think anyone who has lived in Utah knows the real reason. </div>
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Whether you are gay or straight the pressure to live your life by the churches standards is a heavy burden. One that many people choose not to endure by leavening. However, the stress of trying to leave sends many into a spiraling depression. When I was in collage I suffered greatly with the cognitive dissonances of the church. I made an attempt on my life to escape the reality of a Mormon life. That event has stayed with me. You can read my story <a href="http://breakingmormon.blogspot.com/2013/04/life-or-death.html">Here</a>.</div>
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I recently became aware of a group who are trying to help. They are hoping to spread the word far and wide -- even if its among exmos because they can reach out to their family and friends who may still be active. <br /><br />I really support this Idea. Luckily I do not live in Utah but that dose not mean I can't participate. Here's a link to the facebook event: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1717769221782323/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/<wbr></wbr>events/1717769221782323/</a> If you know anyone personally affected, maybe write up a tribute to them.<br /><br />As far as participating in the event, a lot of the people are exmormon, so they won't be attending church, but we're trying to group people by local area so they can do candle light vigils, feed the homeless youth, etc... in their own community.<br /><br /></div>
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ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-21461307157341325862014-10-26T11:26:00.004-07:002014-10-26T11:27:39.264-07:00Porn and Potato; The Secrets of Love <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial;">I have sat here for about 20 minutes trying to find a clever way to start this post. I've considered Shakespearean quotes and flowery poems. I wanted my intro to reflect the sentiment of the topic but clearly it's falling short. From cliches to come on's nothing feels right. This post is about love. Plain and simple. Not dating, not sex, and not the awkward in-between of forced laughter and fake organisms. I have talked a LOT about dating on this blog. I have experimented, and hypothesized what it would be like to date a person who was not Mormon. But I have not really discussed love. </span><br />
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Well I must confess something to you my friends...I'm slight uncomfortable with the topic of love. Maybe it's the expectation of heighten emotion, or maybe its the vulnerability required to maintain it. Never the less, I love my never-mormon boyfriend Alex. </div>
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"Emma!" You say, "Why did you keep this from us, your loyal BreakingMormon cronies?"</div>
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I guess I just wanted to make sure it was real. I held on to the idea that all men outside the church were immoral sexual predators. After all that is what I have been told all my life. Alex is nothing like the monster the church has made him out to be. He is a sweet and caring person. He is honest...sometimes a little too honest, but that's one of the things I love about him. </div>
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I think the most penurious weapon the church uses is the way they paint Love. "Love is wonderful and eternal", says the church "but also that love is dangerous. Do not let yourself fall in love with a non-Mormon. Love must be controlled. Do not express love with your bodies. Love is conditional. If your spouse leave the church he dose not love God and can't love you." The list of expectations goes on and on and it is tragic to watch two people lose love over it. </div>
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Here I flashback to my youth. Sitting in church staring at poor Sister Anderson. She is married but her husband has left the church. Teachers in class would use her life as a warning to the dangers of love. So alone she sits. "How sad", I think "Her husband must be such a bad and lazy person. A fat slovenly man with potato chips strewn a crossed his pot beer belly." </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--kw0F7k_9_c/VE07T6mpf6I/AAAAAAAAAj8/l32EEf_I7Cg/s1600/potato.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--kw0F7k_9_c/VE07T6mpf6I/AAAAAAAAAj8/l32EEf_I7Cg/s1600/potato.png" height="185" width="200" /></a></div>
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Ladies and gentleman you must not let the church use love as a weapon. You must escape the fear surrounding non-mormon love. I know you are scared because dating in the modern world is frighting. You have been told many lies about sex. You are afraid, I know, I was too. You are imagining that potbellied man sitting on your couch eating potato chips and watching porn. and I will tell you he exists! but you do not have to date that man. You are smart enough to see the wolf in sheep's clothing. Will men use lies to get you to sleep with them. Well, they will try. But I will let you in on a little secret. Those same men will be lazy. If you proceed with caution and only do things when you have established trust in the relationship that porn and potatoes man will get bored. He move on and leave you alone. The man(or woman) who will truly love and care for you will be there. Even after the 17th make out session. Will he want to have sex with you. Yes! dose that make him bad. No! Will he watch porn? Yes! Will that make him bad? Not really. That makes him human. </div>
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In short you must trust your own judgment and move slowly. Love is out there my friends. I found it and it's amazing! Now it's your turn. </div>
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ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-33691488089560343512014-10-16T17:54:00.002-07:002014-10-26T09:34:35.979-07:00Ordain Woman <br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lRjtMWifosA/VE0ifpWL1uI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/0-2Jbz8-nVg/s1600/Ordain.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lRjtMWifosA/VE0ifpWL1uI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/0-2Jbz8-nVg/s1600/Ordain.png" height="166" width="200" /></a>What would happen if Woman were given the priesthood? This woman has a pretty good idea. She has figured out 4 simple step to survive Woman in the church work place. She my be a Mormon but she get it and she has a since of humor. I got to give her props for this. Though she is probably brainwashed she has enough of a mind left to recognize how the church leaders are better at controlling people then trusting them to think for themselves. The church leaders are just stupid old men who wish we all would stop using all this new fangled technology and go back to a simpler time where TV had 3 channels and only a white male property holders could vote. Ahhhh yes the good old days. <br />
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<a href="http://www.the-exponent.com/but-what-if-everybody-has-sex/">http://www.the-exponent.com/but-what-if-everybody-has-sex/</a><br />
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I'll admit when I hear about all this Ordain Woman nonsense I just think "Ladies LEAVE! How can you be so close to freedom and yet stop short! Keep going, freedom is just one ex-communication away!" <br />
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I understand how the relief society president with her perfectly modest skirt can fall into the "role of a woman" crap. But how can there be so many wonderfully beautiful woman who recognize the sexism of the church still attend? Not only to they recognize it, but they want more. More sexism! I'm sure if woman got the priesthood the next step would be letting us get our own planet in the after life. Or maybe the enjoy a monogamous afterlife with our husband. On rare occasion I attempt to understand the Mormon woman perspective. I'll admit it is a nice community but besides that...<br />
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If you have any idea how these half robot woman exist in the the church feel free to enlighten me...Please leave a comment... Because I'm stumped.ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-68757866813424460322014-09-29T11:23:00.002-07:002014-10-26T10:12:05.703-07:00Moving Out<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
We all know how hard it is to tell your friends and siblings you are letting go of the Iron rod. You know what they are saying behind your back. You notice they distance themselves. I have even heard stories of people being shunned and ostracized. It is a sticky wicket. But nothing compares to the challenge of telling your parents. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bHuGVgqBQK8/VE0rHiOIccI/AAAAAAAAAjg/dPi0PJMdFn0/s1600/dress%2Bup.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bHuGVgqBQK8/VE0rHiOIccI/AAAAAAAAAjg/dPi0PJMdFn0/s1600/dress%2Bup.png" height="320" width="148" /></a>I spent months hiding from my parents. I was living with Mom and Dads home trying to get my life together. Being recently dumped, unemployed and on suicide watch I decided not to add heathen to my list of failures. It was a tough act. Every Sunday morning I would put on a dress and "drive to church". Luckily we had a <br />
Singles Ward I could "attend" so my parents never suspected. I usually stopped at a gas station and changed into my street clothing. I usually sat in my car and drove around for a while. Maybe stop in a bar and watch people living normal lives. Occasionally I would drop in on the Singles Ward. Like a moth to the flame. I actually enjoyed seeing all my old friends and getting all that attention. Many of them knew I was questioning. Having been a staple in the ward they all worried about me. "I'm Just really busy" I would say with a smile. I usually ended the service hiding in the bathroom fighting tears.</div>
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This went on for months. It was hard enough leaving my friends. The idea of telling my parents was terrifying. I worried if they knew I would be throw out of the house. Left to fend for myself. I figured I would wait until I moved out. But the game of Church Hide and Seek was getting harder and harder to play. I started dropping hint. Saying I had doubts. Asking inappropriate questions to the home teachers. Then my mother discovered my copy of "No Man Knows My History" (See: <a href="http://breakingmormon.blogspot.com/2013/05/mother-may-i-so-mom-i-was-making-out.html" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">http://breakingmormon.<wbr></wbr>blogspot.com/2013/05/mother-<wbr></wbr>may-i-so-mom-i-was-making-out.<wbr></wbr>html</a> ) She became more and more defensive of the church. Insisting on nightly prayer and Family Home Evening. It was time for the truth to come out. </div>
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It was a Sunday evening and I was still in my Sunday dress. My parents started asking me about my job search trying to give me advice. How could I interview for jobs when I was such an emotional wreck? I had no idea where my life was headed. I was still silently suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was not sleeping and felt so alone. </div>
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"Maybe if you just spent more time at church you could clear your head," My Mother said. </div>
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Suddenly I just blurted it out "I'm not going to church!" There was a moment of silence. I took a deep breath. "Mom, Dad I need to tell you something. Can we sit down?"</div>
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I told them I did not believe Joseph Smith was a prophet and that I would no longer be a Mormon. It was a short conversation and my parent were relatively understanding. Of course more long winded and frustrating conversation were yet to come but for the time being it was okay. My parents respond with love and understanding. They still supported me and did not kick me out. That felt nice. The important part was I held my ground. I did not allow them the fantastic idea that I would come back. </div>
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For those of you who have yet to tell your parents I recommend you break it to them over time. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a few months. But tell them and when you do do not leave them any room for hope. In the long run you will just hurt them more. Live your new life with excitement and pride. I know you probably feel you are disappointing them. Well let me ask you this...do you plan on living in your parents basement for the rest of your life? No. You want to move out and they want you to too. They would be disappointed if you never moved out and built a life for yourself. Letting your parents believe you may one day come back to church is like emotionally sleeping on a futon in their basement. Your parents had you so they could watch you grow and become your own person. You may not get the job they think you should have, or date the boys they pick but they can take pride in the fact that they raised someone who could think for themselves. </div>
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If you are struggling with coming out I highly recommend you watch this TED talk. My sister sent me this link as I was leaving and gave me a lot of courage! </div>
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<a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/ash_beckham_we_re_all_hiding_something_let_s_find_the_courage_to_open_up">http://www.ted.com/talks/ash_beckham_we_re_all_hiding_something_let_s_find_the_courage_to_open_up</a></div>
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ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-48728518535083862242014-09-15T14:30:00.000-07:002014-09-15T14:30:19.874-07:00An Unexpected Rant<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">I
was recently sent a survey from my old Ward in NYC. They
explained they were going to do a series of lessons on marriage and
they wanted to get an idea of the general feeling towards
relationship from the NYC Mormons. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="line-height: 100%;">I
decided to fill out the survey for mostly for my own masochistic reasons. Most of the question were typical Mormon </span><span style="line-height: 16px;">stereotypes</span><span style="line-height: 100%;">. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, serif; line-height: 100%;">There
was a multiple choice question I found indicative of their true
purpose in sending out this questionnaire, the question is very
telling of the attitude of those in the Mormon faith towards
marriage. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: 7pt;"><b>What
answer below best reflects your feelings on dating and marriage?</b></span></span></div>
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<li><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="color: #262626;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: 7pt;"><b>I’m
ready to be married now, get me out of this dating game now</b></span></span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="color: #262626;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: 7pt;"><b>I’ll
get around to dating when I have time, but for now I’m chasing my
dreams</b></span></span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="color: #262626;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: 7pt;"><b>Dating
is fun, but the idea of getting married is terrifying</b></span></span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="color: #262626;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: 7pt;"><b>I
feel like my dating life is in balance with the other aspects in my
life</b></span></span></span></div>
</li>
</ul>
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<span style="line-height: 100%;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="line-height: 100%;">#1
is a statement I heard countless times while in the church. I
wouldn’t be surprised if this was the most frequent response from
their young, single adult audience. There is an idea brewed in
the minds of the young and sexually frustrated that the moment they
say "I do" everything in your relationship is all taken
care of, and that you will always be perfectly in love and happy.
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="line-height: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="line-height: 100%;">Alex, my Never-Mo boyfriend, and I have been together for
almost a year and we are in no rush to seal the deal. This is
the first relationship I have been in where time is no issue. We’re
already having sex and we both have independent lives. This is
also the first time I have been dating someone where
relationship milestones are not reached every week like
clockwork. The romantic comedy element adds a lot of excitement
to Mormon relationships. I have noticed that it feels like our
relationship is lacking in </span><span style="line-height: 16px;">excitement</span><span style="line-height: 100%;"> merely because he is not shouting "Marry
me!" But that is simply a reaction to developing a healthy relationship based on common Interests not getting into heaven. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, serif; line-height: 100%;">By
taking our time and removing the threat of unrealistic expectation,
we are able to develop a healthy, loving and honest relationship. So
when I reached the final question on the survey I could not resist
answering honestly.</span></div>
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<ul>
<li><div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Is there anything
you would like the bishop to know?</b></span></span></div>
</li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">Here is what I wrote…</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>
<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;">"When I was Mormon the
pressure to get married was horrible and I was unhappy. It's
not the Bishop’s fault. The church as a whole has an idea of
relationships that is unhealthy. Getting married is a choice
some make. Not getting married is also a choice. When I was a
Mormon the men were all under sexed and over-stressed about the idea
of getting married. They had unrealistic and, frankly, childish ideas
of relationships. The relationship was less about love and more
about what their wife was going to do for them. Now, as a Non-mormon,
I have learned a lot about what makes a healthy relationship. It’s
not about finding the most church going, reverent, a-sexual
person you can find. It is about opening yourself up to loving
yourself and owning that. If you are a Mormon who drinks and
does not attend church find someone else who lives life this way.
Don't try and change who you are for the hope that you will get
married and have sex. Be yourself...not what the church tells
you to be. I filled out this survey as if I was still Mormon.
But then I thought it would be better to be honest and tell you
the truth. To show you that love outside religious expectations
is real true and awesome love!"</span></div>
<br />
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<br />
</div>
ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-71382557883609204532014-08-29T06:49:00.000-07:002014-08-29T06:49:06.310-07:00My "Thing"<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">When
I was in college I was very active. I was consistently involved in
projects, theatrical plays, movie making, open mics, dating, dancing,
exercising, skiing, long boarding, classes and Divine Comedy. I
had so many "Things" going on and I loved it. My activities
were a great distraction from the occasional spat with depression,
suicidal thoughts, or sexual frustration. I had a full and
mostly happy life. </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Since
leaving the church I feel like my "Thing" is Mormonism. I
find it ironic that it took me leaving the church to identify myself
by it. My stand-up comedy is all about Mormonism. This
blog...obviously is all about Mormonism. My life story is Mormonism.
Every person I meet wants to know how, why and what Mormonism
is. The church’s isolation tactic makes socializing outside the
cult very difficult. </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">My
boyfriend Alex is a very talented guitar player. He is in a Van Halen
Tribute band. Music is his "Thing." My roommate loves
to read and talk about reading. That's her "Thing". My
co-worker is all into yoga and he loves buying stones and mediating
with them. It may sound goofy to some but it is his "Thing." </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I
used to have so many "Things" but lately I feel I have
nothing. </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Oh
Emma, that's not true." I tell myself. "You love your
job! Car sales are really fun and fascinating and perfect for your
personality." </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">And
it's true. I do love my job, but some days my job does not love me
back. My job can’t be my only love in life. Some days at my
job people will ask me about my past and Mormonism will come up. I
don't love those days. </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I
have spent the last few weeks contemplating this loss of personal
development. I had a bad day at work and the walls of
self-loathing started closing in. I'm ashamed to say I started
falling back into my old habits. Depression, and suicide
idealization. I tried to snap out of it. I went for a
run but as I ran my eyes were scanning the city skyline for tall
buildings to jump off of. I began to shut down. I began to cry
in broad daylight, nervously pulling at my hair. I was having
what felt like the beginning of a nervous breakdown. It was
frightening. I called a few people but no one picked up and
when they tried to call me back it was too late. I had fallen
so deep into depression that I hid from everyone. That night I
drank a few beers to try and knock myself out. At work I was
barely present. My managers noticed I was not my normal happy
go lucky self. But I just kept quiet.</span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">When
I was Mormon I felt this way often. I spent many nights in
solitude crying and hating myself. I did not want to talk about it
but desperately needed to. After a particularly bad night of
negative thinking I decided it was time to talk to someone. I
opened up to one of my managers at work who I trusted would
understand. Talking about my struggle made a big difference and
I was able to get back to functioning at work. </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>
<span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I think the biggest advice I
can give at this point is be patients with yourself. It's not
my only "Thing" in my life but it is a big part and that's
okay. I do have other interests and it's important to continue
looking for new adventures and hobbies. Yes, leaving Mormonism is
hard but look and the progress you have made. There was a time where I
thought about killing myself on a daily basis. Now when I do
feel suicidal it’s an abnormal feeling, and one that is easily
dismissed. That's called progress my friends and if progress is my
"Thing", well...I’ll take it!</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-74794237997227811292014-08-08T07:06:00.002-07:002014-10-26T10:23:56.509-07:00MBA or MRS?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>Gather ‘round friends and I will tell you a terrible tale. A true ghost story. It all started at the BYU’s Women and MBAs introduction dinner. The events you are about to read actually happened. MUAHAHAHAHA! </b></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;">I was fresh out of an </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">engagement</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: arial;">. A</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: arial;">n </span>unmarried<span style="font-family: arial;"> 26 year old. The </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;">possibility</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> were endless? Ha! I was sexually frustrated and lacking any real skills to get me a job. This boy was supposed to take me to the next level. Married Ward. I could be married and enter a new phase of life. That was when I saw the invitation. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">"Welcome ladies,” said a cheerful woman in a business suit, “My name is Bethany and I am here to tell you a little bit about what BYU's MBA program has to offer you. We are so glad all of you have taken an interest in forwarding your career at this blessed University. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">So sit back, enjoy your Christmas sparkling</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> grape juice while we tell you why BYU's MBA program is right for you. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;">The dinner started out great. Different professors from the program all stood up and talked about the different classes and tests you would be required to take to apply for the program. at </span><span style="color: #222222;">first</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: small;"> I felt hope. Maybe I could take care of myself without a husband? But something felt off, the room seemed sad. It didn't become apparent just how sad until later in the evening.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Ladies," said Bethany, "We have a special treat for you. Tonight we have with us three women who graduated from BYU’s MBA program. They are going to come up here and tell you a little about themselves and their experience." </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">What happened next was the most horrifying display of self-loathing I have ever witnessed. The first woman took the stage. She had long </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">stringy hair and and was wearing what looked like a funeral dress.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">"Hello, my name is Tiffany," She said "I decided to get my MBA because I realized I was turning 30 and I wasn't married. I never planned on having to make a living for myself but I figured if I had to work, I should further my education." I almost did a spit take as the other zombie women were all shaking their heads in agreement. Tiffany continued to tell of her menial job and how she hoped it would someday help her find a husband. She also commented that God may not have wanted her to get married and she will have to except that. What a rousing way to conclude your motivational MBA speech.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The next woman took the podium. She was</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> very smiley and very pregnant. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">“Hello everyone, I’m Melony. I was so excited when BYU asked me to speak today. I had great success getting my MBA. Much like Tiffany I was a little worried about my future because I wasn't married yet. So I decided to get my MBA, and it’s actually where I met my husband.” Melony then proceeded to tell us all about how she met her husband and just how wonderful he was and how wonderful being married was. She concluded with, “Well…as you can see, I’m not actually using my MBA but my husband has a great job. We just bought a house!” </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Melony Waddled off the stage. Finally the most terrifying speaker was announced. The woman sitting next to me was called to the stage. She was absolutely beautiful and seemed very collected. But her tale was the most tragic…</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“Hi my name is Suzanna. After I got my MBA I was offered a job at Google.” Wow! I was impressed! “…but I turned it down because my boyfriend at the time said he wanted us to get married and I would have to choose between him and Google. After we broke up I spent two years working for a company in Africa. I spent some time in DC where I…” and here she listed quite a few accomplishments. Though I was impressed, I could not quite get past her irrational turning down GOOGLE for a boy who clearly was not that into her. She now works for a company in DC but confusingly she lives in Salt Lake City. “I do spread sheets for a company all the way out in DC. I can work from home in my PJ’s.” she said with a laugh. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Hmmm like a hobo" I thought. Things got more awkward when she returned to the table.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> “Good job.” I said, “That’s really impressive that you lived in Africa.” </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“Ha yeah!” She said bitterly, “It was great but you do feel the pressure. I mean I’m 35 now and I just got dumped again. I could have been dating for those two years you know…” </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“Um yeah I guess”, I said.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ktBt4NAQWOE/VE0sVsgNb6I/AAAAAAAAAjs/Xcy9lhcgCTM/s1600/dress%2Bup.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ktBt4NAQWOE/VE0sVsgNb6I/AAAAAAAAAjs/Xcy9lhcgCTM/s1600/dress%2Bup.png" height="275" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“I mean I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong. Dave and I have been together for 6 months. And about a month ago we were in the temple and he said he was praying for a sign…you know, like, if I was the one…and I guess right when he prayed is when I got done in the bathroom. So I came out and he saw me. He told me it was a sign we should get married! But then last week he said he felt the spirit tell him maybe not…but I’m like, what about the sign at the temple bathroom, you know?” </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Suzanne spent the rest of the night analyzing every man she had ever dated. All the other young woman at the table chimed in with similar concerns. All of them were single too. All of these woman were recently dumped...all of these woman sounded like...</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"> I then had a hair raising sensation. As if I was being watched by someone who knew my fate.... IT WAS ME! Everything she was saying and had said sounded like my life. I was sitting next to my Ghost of Christmas Future. Some pathetic girl, unsatisfied with all the good she had done because she was still single. Including, but not limited to, giving up her dream for a man. The reason I was at this dinner is I had been dumped after moving from NYC to Utah for a man. If I continued down this path I would become Suzanne. My tombstone would read </span><br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><b>Here lies a chick who </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>has seen</i></span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> the world but </i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><b>she never got married. </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i><b>What a shame. </b></i></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I felt sick for days after that dinner and I wish I could say it was the food. I decided against the BYU MBA program. I figured there are many better ways to deal with being single. </span></div>
ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-47795163648237048332014-07-23T16:51:00.001-07:002014-07-23T17:46:04.159-07:00Fairy Tale Ending<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Okay," I said, sitting in
the hallway. Then I began putting my boots on. I wasn't going to
cry and this was not going to be one of those 5 hour break-ups. He wasn't worth
it. When he dropped me off at my apartment I told him to wait, I ran into
my apartment and grabbed our book. It was our fairy tale. The book he had
driven 10 hours to deliver to me. It held the story of our relationship
spelled out in hand-drawn pictures and inside jokes. I had continued the story
with pictures of of my own and together we built our enchanted romance. It was
the cutest thing anyone had ever done for me. I had felt like a princess and he
had been my prince charming.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0i1UJiVtoZw/U9BXQrFFN2I/AAAAAAAAAi4/Tzx3KCn3nJQ/s1600/prin.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0i1UJiVtoZw/U9BXQrFFN2I/AAAAAAAAAi4/Tzx3KCn3nJQ/s1600/prin.png" height="320" width="192" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Take this. I don't want
it." I said, throwing it at him. He protested but I gave him no choice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As I turned to leave, a thought
struck me, "You know what Aaron? I'm so glad that this is done
because I don't have to pretend anymore. I'm so tired of always acting.
So tired of hiding" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I don't think I even knew what I was
saying on that very late October night. Only months later did I realize
how dedicated I had been to the role of Molly Mormon. So much of me was an act
to impress these priesthood holders. That was the last time I saw Aaron and I
have not missed him once. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now here we are, about 70 blog posts
later, and I'm living in a different world. A newly minted Ex-mormon! I
have a steady job and a stable self-reliant life. My life is my own.
I'm not the slave wife to my “prince.” But I have played the part of a
Mormon princess for so long it is hard for me step off my pedestal. As I
mentioned my previous Mormon love stories were whirlwind romance. When
you have post Mormon romantic epiphanies they hit hard and fast. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Alex and I have been dating for a
while….and guess what? We just keep dating. How can we still be dating
you ask? It's been 6 months, you say? By Mormon logic we should either be
broken up or engaged…right? Strangely enough, I don’t want either. This
concept of dating someone longer than 6 months was in conflict with everything
I've ever experienced. I still can’t quite comprehend it. It is kind of like
trying to understand how the universe is infinite and it is also
expanding. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Eventually my uncomfortableness of
our situation started to show, and my inexperience in non-mormon dating started
to bubble to the surface. I started thinking irrationally, trying to find
problems in our relationship and exploding them in my mind. One night,
Alex sent me a smilie face emoticon :) instead of a winky smilie face ;) I used
this textual symbol as fuel to exacerbate our clearly failed relationship.
Unfortunately Alex is way to cool, collected and sweet to let me imagine
problems. We talk and I soon realized I was just freaked out. Scared that i was prolonging something only to watch it burn in a year or three years. How can anyone take such a big gamble on love. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Love isn't a fairy tale anymore. Now
I realize that you can't just marry someone and be done. Even after you get
married you have to still work at it. What "it" is I’m not entirely
sure. I'm frustrated and disappointed. I don't want dating to be a slow and
carefully thought out process. I want it to be fast and exciting…What
happened to my whirlwind romance where you meet and you just know? I have
been dating Alex for over 6 months and I feel like there is so much I don't
know about him. When I look at him I don't just see a perfect man with no
flaws. Where is my prince charming? Where are those rose-colored glasses the
church gave me? My fairy tale life is ending. I've lost the ability
to mindlessly go through a romance with only the end goal in sight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">OR… Maybe I’m coming to the harsh
reality that love is a journey not a </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">fairy tale</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">. :( <o:p></o:p></span></div>
ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-9616398874048629332014-07-14T20:30:00.001-07:002014-07-23T17:40:59.460-07:00Romantic Diarrhea<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">It was late at night and I was
sound asleep in Alex's bed. After a decadent dinner of leftover ribs and gas
station pizza, Alex and I had drifted to a cozy sleep. What a breakthrough. I
usually hated sleeping in a bed with a man, but Alex was different. I didn't
feel trapped. I didn't get the knot of guilt in my stomach that normally
accompanied my sexy sleepovers. It just felt nice to be close to him.
Around 4:00 in the morning I awoke to that sick feeling again. I tossed
and turned, my mind racing, and I began to sweat. Was this another panic
attack? Alex could feel how distraught I was. He wrapped his strong
arm around my stomach and held me close. Although it was a nice gesture,
it did not help. I threw his arm from my stomach. although he’s a
sweet man, I couldn’t shake the nasty sick
feeling I had woken up with</span><span style="color: red; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Suddenly,
without warning I found myself running down the hall of his apartment. Right
into the bathroom, where I threw up the contents of my stomach. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-osytotCwTDI/U9BWDbFsSEI/AAAAAAAAAis/7kFq75O8TJ8/s1600/puke.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-osytotCwTDI/U9BWDbFsSEI/AAAAAAAAAis/7kFq75O8TJ8/s1600/puke.png" height="293" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">It turned out I was not experiencing a panic attack, I was
simply food poisoned. And it wasn't long until Alex joined me in my misery.
Here we were practically strangers, taking turns vomiting into the
toilet…and nether one of us knew what to do. We googled food poisoning
and I even called my mother from his bed for advice. Of course I did not tell
her Alex was there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">"Well do you have diarrhea?" She asked over the speaker phone,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">"yes" I admitted, embarrassed as Hell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">My mother recommended that I drink Sprite and lots of water. But
Alex didn’t have any Sprite. I would have to walk down to the corner gas
station. I began to get out of bed when Alex stopped me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">"I'll get it", he moaned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The next 24 hours was spent puking, and trying to distract
ourselves from puking. We learned a lot about each other from this experience.
When I think about the important moments in our relationship it would be fair
to say this one is at the top of the list. Alex and I have been dating for
almost 5 months now. At this point I would even call him my boyfriend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">When I visit the ghost of relationships passed I am reminded of
the exciting and dramatic turning points in our relationships. In Mormon
land the process of finding your eternal lover happens very quickly.
Romantic milestones are constantly being reached. It is like falling in
love in a movie. You ignore the communication problems, and just
focusing on the fun of the journey. Before you know it, the movie is over and you havent even finished your pop corn! In <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.88888931274414px;">Mormon land Alex and I would be engaged by now! </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">It was hard for me to decelerate into a more healthy
relationship pattern. I was used to seeing my boyfriend every single day. When
you only have 6 month to decide if he is "the one" you take every second you can
get. One day after hanging around at his place all day Alex said something very
strange to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">"You know…sometimes I just need some time to myself."
I could tell he was trying very hard not to hurt my feelings. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I, of
course, was hurt. I took the hint and hopped in my car. I spent the next
few days processing what he said. Clearly he didn't like
me anymore. I figured it was time to cut ties and start
over. There were plenty of guys out there who would actually want to spend
every waking second with me. But before I put the EX on our relationship I
thought I might want to do some Non-Mormon dating research. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I sought advice from my modern female friends. Mindy had
been dating my co-worker and she explained it best. "Oh yeah, I
really like Devin but I don't need to see him every day. That would
drive me nuts. So I usually just let him play video games while I get my
stuff done." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Hum...I thought back to how many times I had gotten in my car
and drove down to Alex’s place even when I sort of didn't want to. Don't get me
wrong I always enjoy spending time with Alex but sometimes I felt obligated by
an outside force to forget my own needs and focus on "US." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The church is so focused on paring off. Singles are
discriminated against and made to feel guilty. Unmarried men and woman are not
“whole.” It’s strange to come to the realization that I'm a whole person
all on my own. I have a job, a savings account, and I can decide how I
spend my free time. I rent movies I know he won’t like and watch them by
myself. I go swing dancing, and do comedy. Basically I have my own life
besides just him, and that is okay. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I no longer feel obligated to spend every waking minute with
Alex. It is actually quite empowering. In the church single men and woman put
all of their love and devotion and free time into the relationship. They
cling to each other from the moment they meet. And that's great if you are
a parasite fish that feeds on a great white shark and you hope it never eats
you. But in the real world normal relationship are composed of mixed emotions,
complicated agendas and the occasional romantic night out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-80714845606787267522014-06-09T07:51:00.003-07:002014-07-20T19:49:17.759-07:00The meaning of it ALL<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Ah
here it is. Another post attempting to tackle the ever present
question we all ask ourselves, “What is the meaning of life?” I'm
here sitting at my desk completely angry, frustrated and stressed.
Maybe it’s the newly started birth control I’m on because,
according to my sister, being "pro-choice" is not a
sufficient form of contraception. Perhaps I am blinded by the light
at the end of this long-ass tunnel. Whatever the reason, I keep
trying to catch the meaning of my existence. After a perfect storm of
stressful downfalls from work I found myself too upset to cry. That
coupled with a very stressful moving process and a woman who decided
to just be mean to me for no reason, I have become a stoic
and un-feeling representation of myself. I guess it’s a lot
to expect I will <span style="font-size: small;"><u>always</u></span>
be happy. But when I am in an emotional tailspin it is good to
not only get out of it but also figure out why I have fallen so fast
from being happy. In times like this I am reminded of my
favorite inspirational thought. If you have not seen this video
please watch it. It's a comedic poem that so perfectly
illustrates "the meaning of life". </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YpEiEh_HmI8/U8x-vVUHkHI/AAAAAAAAAic/VeSIQraiiOo/s1600/mof.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YpEiEh_HmI8/U8x-vVUHkHI/AAAAAAAAAic/VeSIQraiiOo/s1600/mof.png" /></a></div>
<span style="line-height: 100%;"> </span><span style="color: blue; line-height: 100%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhGuXCuDb1U">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhGuXCuDb1U</a></u></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><i>"Isn't
this enough? Just this world, beautiful...complex...wonderfully
unfathomable natural world. How does it so fail to hold our
attention that we have to diminish it with cheap man made myths and
monsters."</i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I
truly have had an extraordinary life. I was raised in a ‘ma and pa’
Ice-cream shop with the most amazing family a gal could want. I was
able to experience the fame of Hollywood through my sister Julie on
the “Real World.” I have played major roles in massive
musical productions. I have traveled all over the states, lived
in the city that never sleeps. I've backpacked through Europe and
stood in awe of the never ending wonders. I have loved, lost loves
and repeated the process time and again. And now, in the wake of the
earth shattering discovery about the church being wrong, I'm able to
start again. It’s almost as though I get to try two lifetimes. Not
only that, but I have more appreciation for the freedom I have than
most Americans have had all their lives. Why just this morning I
spilled coffee on my paycheck. The paper turned that foggy brown
color of coffee-soaked paper and I realized it was the first time I
have ever spilled coffee on something. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So,
when I find myself down, I ask myself "Isn't this enough?"
Whatever stresses I experience at my job or unpleasant people
who cross my path I've created a life for myself, full of caring
people who will help me move on from my past (or in some cases, just
move.) From one apartment to the next. One job to the
next. From one friend to the next. From one adventure to the next.
One life filled with nexts. Maybe the meaning in life is just
to see what will happen next.</span></div>
ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902252566256208652.post-9442780205656914442014-05-29T17:10:00.004-07:002014-06-29T14:08:36.842-07:00Bedtime Story<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Congratulations to
me! I have been sexual active for about 5 months. I
recently crossed into a new realm of sexual enjoyment, and I’m
going to tell you all about it…aww yeah! </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Alex and I
clicked. (See: <a href="http://breakingmormon.blogspot.com/2014/04/outliers.html">Outliers</a>) Finding a guy who understood my
ex-religious turmoil was rare. Since he was still in the closet
as an ex-catholic, he related well to me. Not only do I find him
fiendishly attractive, but I also really like his personality. He
genuinely makes me laugh, we have many common interests and he seems
like an all-around good guy. But there was a tiny road block standing
between us. Sex. You see, at this point I have had sex with two men.
Both Dahan and Brian were nice enough guys, however, the only part
about them I really cared for was the part between their legs. Though
I was having sex with them, I kept both men at arm’s length. I
wouldn't spend the night and purposely had an air mattress so an
overnight guest would be impossible. Our “dates” usually started
as a movie but would quickly turn to banging, and then going home.
And that just fine with me.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">So, needless to say,
my walls shot straight up with Alex. We didn’t even kiss for about
a week. One night we stayed up till about 3:00 in the morning just
talking. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Well I better get
going.” I said.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">If you want you
could stay the night?” replied Alex, and although there was no
expectation in his voice, I knew what overnight meant and grabbed my
keys. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Later that week I
stopped by again. Alex made the first move by putting his arm around
me. Then, when the sexual tension was too much to bear, Alex
went in for the kill. We began making out hard. But then Alex’s
hands migrated down to the zipper on my blue jeans. I jumped off
the couch and left Alex in the push up stance.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">You okay?” he
asked,</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Yeah, I just
think I had better get going.” I said. His face was complete
confusion so I figured I had better explain. “Sorry I really want
to…you know…do all that….stuff, but it’s just that I actually
find you really attractive.” I said apologetically. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Alex's head fell
with disappointment for a moment and then looked back at me even more
confused than before. “Wait, what?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Yeah is just that
I like you so I don’t think we should do anything…you know…”
I said</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I’m sorry I
just don’t understand…you like me? You find me attractive? And
for that reason you don’t want to have sex?”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Right.” I
affirmed, relived he understood. “Whelp! I better get going.”
And with that I yet again left him sitting alone on his couch. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FDRZfrEKpxs/U7B-iEx5iWI/AAAAAAAAAiM/8W9MWSCgOrI/s1600/jj+couch.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FDRZfrEKpxs/U7B-iEx5iWI/AAAAAAAAAiM/8W9MWSCgOrI/s1600/jj+couch.png" height="273" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">A few days later
Alex came over. It did not take long for me to jump on top of
him and force my mouth on his mouth. He smelled so good and his
short, sexy beard grazed the tender skin of my neck. I was
digging my lips into his and thrusting my pelvis. Back and forth and
back and -Suddenly Alex slapped his hand to his forehead, “I don’t
understand how this is any different from having sex.” He said
(almost to himself.)</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I instantly curled
up into a ball at one end of the couch. I didn't know what to say. I
was scared. We talked about it and I guess I said something that
sort of made sense. Alex seemed okay with my reason for not
popping out my ta tas. But…as I was sitting looking at him a
phrase from my good friend Devin came to mind.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Look, you are
going to make mistakes, but that’s how you learn. You can’t
live your life afraid that you’ll screw up. If you do that,
you might as well go back to church.”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I took a moment to
collect my thoughts. I </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u>did</u></span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">
like this guy. I wanted to have sex with him for the enjoyment of
it. I guess I was just worried that I would instantly fall in
love with him, and I knew I couldn’t control if he was one of those
guys who just want to bang me and then never talk to me again. I knew
it was highly likely he would be this way due to the fact that he was
not a Mormon and we all know how “devious” any non-Mormon man is
when it comes to sex! But, if he was willing to stick
around this long, maybe he actually wasn’t an evil sex fiend. With
the conclusion of that thought I popped my shirt off and he chased me
into the bedroom where we, eventually, had really great sex. It
actually didn't take too long. Just about a half an hour of me
lying face down on my air mattress in my underwear scared shitless
and then another half hour where I learned that not all penises are
created equal.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Some are much… much…bigger. </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Alex and I are, to
my surprise, still seeing each other. He is not bored with me
just because he fucked me. I did not “fall in love” with
him. In fact, the next morning I almost felt indifferent to
him. Sure, I still liked him, but if he never called again I
knew would move on. The sex was good and I was glad I at
least got to...how you say..."tap that.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.02in; margin-top: 0.02in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">So what have I
learned from all this you may ask? I learned that waiting to
have sex until your wedding night is a gamble. You are giving
your hormones too much power in the situation. It’s better to
get the sex straightened out so you can focus on the more important
aspects of your relationship. Maybe if it gets really serious
you’ll deflate the small air mattress and get a real queen size bed
for two. </span>
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ahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00670002501316447739noreply@blogger.com2