the one where I talk about sex

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I want to talk about shame.

I want to talk about how good it tastes, how easy it is to cut off a slice and take bite after bite, decadent and bloating until your very soul feels as though it will choke.

I want to talk about Beyonce. I want to talk about marriage. I want to talk about sex.

I want to talk about double standards.

I want to ask questions.

maybe I would ask, why so much shame in sex before marriage that we rush to point fingers, gawking and whispering like Ham, son of Noah, running to bring others to look and comment and take a bite of the shame? 

and then of course another question would follow. why so much shame in sex after marriage that we make a point to turn our heads so we don't see, stopping all conversation at the church doorways, making sure we never cross the thresholds with words like orgasm or sensuality?

these questions of mine keep coming, marveling at how we make sex so forbidden, making sure to laud marriage as the ultimate and only place for sexuality, except we freeze it out and make it odd and matronly, using words like intercourse, all the while forgetting that the word used in Scripture is knowing, deep intense provocative knowledge of the one whom your soul loves, and it doesn't get more sensuous than that.

and then Beyonce and Jay-Z performed at the Grammy Awards and the internet exploded and the church rose up in arms. I watched them tear one another apart, throwing mud and stones at the couple's actions, words, lyrics, wardrobe, and I sat in awed confusion.

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because I didn't see something raunchy or scandalous. I saw something transformational. they're celebrities, rubbing shoulders with people who last barely sixty days into a marriage before filing for divorce. they live in a world that tabloids feed on, plastered up and down the grocery checkout lanes where separation, break-ups, and divorce are bread and butter to that brand of so-called journalists.

this April is six years of marriage for them, six years of til death do us part in a world of broken vows. yes, this couple and their faith differ from mine. yes, their actions in the public eye were far more erotic and intense than I would venture with my husband between the eggs and the milk of the local grocer's.

were there issues with the words, a few rough edges regarding a metaphor or two? were they explicit to the nth degree? yes, and yes again. but in this world, promoting it all before and nothing but ice and high collars afterward, that love is refreshing and inspiring.

there is no shame in nakedness. there is no shame in that passion, that marital lust that flows when skin touches skin and eyes meet. I'm no Beyonce, and he's no Jay-Z. but there's music when we meet that rivals theirs in beauty. when I get behind the door with my husband and I hear that latch click, there's no more veils there.

and you won't be hearing any apologies from me. you might just hear a little Beyonce.