Friday, June 11, 2010

Mormon Soaking

I really really wish what I was about to say was made up. Really, I do because I like Mormons. I was unsure what it would be like to live in the Mormon mecca, aka Salt Lake City, but since moving here I'm very pleasantly surprised and happy to report that it's not as weird as you may think.

Mind you, not as is not to say not at all. There's these funny little things like having to buy real beer (more than 3.2% alcohol) at a state liquor store, everyone is married with children even if they're significantly younger than me, and there's a rather schizophrenic personality to the citizens: you're either Mo-Mo and happy-go-lucky or you ain't and you're damn fucking proud of it.

I digress. Mormon soaking.

So here it is: because Mormons are against pre-marital sex, many of the "good" Mormons make it to their twenties as virgins. Heaven help them, they're hell bent on staying a virigin. But...we all know sex feels really really good. Add to it that it's forbidden and now you have a group of hormonally-saturated, unfulfilled virginal, twenty-something-year-olds going off to college, namely Brigham Young University.

See where this is going? How do you have sex without having sex?

You have "soaking," that is, you put your dick in her vagina but you don't move. Not even a single pump, rub, wiggle or jiggle. Nothing. You just lay there, soaking.

Like I said, I wish I was making this up.

I can't in good faith say I've ever experienced this phenomenon first hand because I'm A) not a BYU graduate and B) not fucking retarded. But, I have it from good sources (a few "Jack Mormons," also known as Mormons who were born and raised but no longer practicing, as well as an ex-communicated one).

There you have it folks. The solution to every religious believer's ultimate dilemna: how do you have sex without having sex. Mormon soaking.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

My very own pet stalker

Today's offering is a guest post from "hackneygirl". Happy Dating!

My first ever internet date. Yay! But me being me I should have known it couldn’t go well. And in fact I think I have managed to bag myself my very own personal stalker. WAY TO GO!

I ought to have clocked it earlier but I’m new to this game and his profile was very funny – dry and sarcastic – and his pics were pretty cute. His emails were short and to the point and he seemed keen to meet up rather than spending lots of time exchanging inane emails. My impression: alpha male, possibly quite arrogant but could be a lot of fun. So, to a backing track of alarm bells faintly tinkling, I agreed to meet him for a drink the following evening. And that’s when the trouble started.

8am. My phone buzzes. It’s a text seemingly checking I gave him a real number. Concerning. I reply with a one word affirmative.
8.10am. Another text. This time re-confirming the details of our date later on. I do not reply.

The uneasy feeling persists throughout the day but I am repeatedly reassured that everyone feels like this before their first internet date. Just go along! What’s the worst that can happen? Ok Dr. Pepper, fine, I’ll go!

6pm. Another text. ‘See you soon. x’ SERIOUSLY! I am going to bail if he sends me one more word. I send a matter of fact response. Definitely no kisses.
7pm. (we’re meeting at 8 and I am at this point waiting at a bus stop). Another text! This time saying he’s been delayed at work. So I ring him to find out if he’s a total loony or what. It rings out. I leave a message then head home. This guy has clearly never been out with a girl in his life.
8pm. Buzz, buzz. ‘Just leaving. Can be there in 5 mins.x’ Dude, did you not listen to my message – I’ve gone home for pete’s sake!
8.05pm. He rings me. It takes me FIFTEEN whole minutes to get him off the phone in which time he has repeatedly tried to find out where I live, offered to come and meet me near my house, asked me out for dinner on every single night of the next two weeks (it’s amazing how busy I am all of a sudden) and extracted a promise that I’ll check my diary and get back to him.
10.30pm. Unbelievably, he texts again. Not being insane myself I do not reply.
2am. Yes, you read that right, 2 o clock in the am, he messages me online to explain, yet again, what held him up. I will have to block his profile. He’s not going to like that.

So, I remain an internet virgin and very likely the object of some disturbed fantasy. I am also probably going to have to change my phone number. Do I feel just a little bit grubby and freaked out? Yes I do. Am I going to quit internet dating? Of course not! Or not yet anyway… *

*Since writing this post he has settled into a routine of texting me every morning at 9am with a new angle on why he didn’t make it to our date and the myriad ways he would like to make it up to me. It’s kind of comforting. I might even miss him when he stops.