 |
| {via pinterest} |
I'm serious.
it's everywhere.
I'm serious about that too.
but you know something else?
it's also a really big secret.
{especially in church}
I grew up in a world where gateway drugs weren't seven-leafed plants held rolled and drooping between teenage fingers. it was the fingers themselves that were the problem. because if skin touched skin, that was the start of a slippery slope...
...a slope that led to bodies and skin and nakedness and words that were alluded to, but rarely spoken aloud. just in case there was someone listening. and the idea of it being mentioned in church? never. just in case God might overhear.
we talked about purity, of course. about guarded hearts and the mystery of a man with a woman and the way it should be for marriage. but what, exactly, should be for marriage? we were never sure. not really.
it was all a mystery. until churches and white dresses and rings slipped onto sweaty fingers and hotel rooms where the door shut with a heavy thump...
...and then it was still a mystery.
because it was a secret until that minute, except that everyone seemed to have forgotten the "sex kitten" potion that was to transform a blushing new bride and a nervously fidgeting groom into ravenous sexual creatures. they forgot about what happened when the door closed and we stood there with shuffling feet and the acute awareness that there was nakedness under our clothes.
this is the part where I am supposed to present a solution.
the only one I have is for us to talk.
we have to stop making little words that start with "p" and "v" and "s" into dirty unrepeatables that linger like forbidden fruit squashed into pulp on tongues. we have to find that line and realize that it's written in the dirt, not carved into rock.
we need to talk.
with words, not euphemisms and "when you're married, you'll understand."
because it doesn't work that way.
we need to talk.
about sex.
about penises and vaginas and hormones and sex. hear me say it. sex.
because the most important thing is a heart.
not a hymen.
