Day 27: Book lovers never go to bed alone

I made an art form of imagining sex — though, to be fair, I knew very little of what sex was actually like or what it entailed (beyond the obvious anatomical fitting together of two different but complementary pieces). For me, in that way back when, the excitement of the act amounted to little more than a slow stripping away of clothing. And I mean slow. Button for button. Sock for sock. The excitement building ever so incrementally. (I told you: an art form.)

The best part was that, if I did it just right, there was no guilt. After all, this was my honeymoon. We were married for god’s sakes!

But to keep the purity of my imaginative act intact, there did remain one final challenge: how to keep those wandering hands of mine to myself. [Note to editor: insert here literary equivalent of winky-face emoticon.]

(This is Day 27 of a 100-day project. For more about When I Was Mormon, read the introductory post. To access older posts, visit the archive.)