Ah, here's one now...
I first met Angela (not her real name) during my senior year when she was a sophomore at the local Catholic girl's school. But wait. Don't get too excited. Whereas some of my friends at that school were exactly the rebellious type to feature prominently in your fantasies, Angela was that absolute goodie-goodie who inspired Billy Joel's sexually-frustrated angst-ridden early albums. I was always dating someone else, but she and I stayed friends for a few years and kept in contact even after I went away to college.
Over the summer after my freshman year, that dangerous time when you're back home away from all your friends and you have limited prospects in your little black book, I gave her a call and asked her out. Big mistake. While Angela was bright and attractive, she was steeped in Catholic teachings to the exclusion of rational attitudes about, well, pretty much anything in the (then) twentieth century. Well, she was raised Catholic, but her absentee father was Muslim. Genetically she was hard-wired to glom onto whatever dogma entered her head at an early age, and it hardened like concrete in there.
The suggestion that a consenting male and female might engage in anything more romantic than kissing positively freaked her out. She was offended by my off-handed use of the term "fooling around" as it apparently trivialized God's gift of sexuality... which she revered so much she wasn't even going to pick it up and shake to see what might be inside.
One afternoon we were sitting on her front porch talking about her hang-ups in this area. She was going on at length about how sex was all about spirituality and what God intended. Just then, two of her (or her neighbor's?) dogs came bounding through the front yard playing the way goofy dogs do on summer afternoons. Though both were females, one of the dogs tried to hump the other. I was like, "It's all biology." Angela was appalled, especially since if an example to support her argument had been so perfectly timed in its appearance, she would have declared it divinely provided.
The summer semester began shortly after that incident, and I went back to school. We didn't last much longer than a couple weeks beyond that what with her asking me to go with her to her church group and me refusing lest I be handed Kool-Aid at such a get-together. In the fall she started at a nearby Catholic college, then (presumably upon finding the rabbit hole wasn't steep enough to deposit her in a convent) she transferred the next year to another even more cloistered Catholic college in the mid-West.
She's a youth minister at a Catholic school not far from where she grew up. No, I didn't find her on MySpace. What are you kidding? Her only presence on the web was poor scores from a couple students in her religion class on ratemyteachers.com and another random page where she was listed as an attendee a couple years ago at a Catholic retreat (presumably from reality). While she isn't a nun, that's a good description of what her vagina has been getting for entirely too many decades now. She married a couple years ago, and it didn't even last fifteen months. Any guesses why?
When I think about your hot body, I take God's name in vain. When God thinks about how you're letting the hot body He gave you go to waste, He takes His own name in vain. In short, God's going to Hell because of you.
p.s. You'll always be holey in my eyes.
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