This morning I’m dwelling on certain resentments. A perfectly happy Instagram image of my godchildren with their half-sisters brings on an animated imaginary conversation with their mother that isn’t very nice.
In other news, wait until you hear what I’ve got planned for Christmas! After my visit last weekend with my niece and her husband and getting clear that climate change, racism and income inequality don’t really register on their list of priorities, I think it’s time to bust another move with the evangelicals in the family. Since my niece’s husband has performance issues and their relationship seems nonsexual, they’ve decided the best way to adapt to their situation is to adopt (while somehow digging in their heels on the love-the-sinner-hate-the-sin stance on sexual orientation). There isn’t anyone in my immediate family that I’m aware of (or anywhere else for that matter) that doesn’t have sever-ish sexual hangups.
I think the best setting would be when we’re all together at the dinner table after everyone is served and grace is said. “Who here loves to have sex? …besides me?” I’ll snort. That’ll get everyone’s attention and likely generate some discomfort.
“Being people with some pretty serious issues regarding their sexuality sure doesn’t stop some of you from being vocal and self-proclaimed experts on the subject.” I let that right punch to the face distract them while I follow up with the left hook to the jaw, “God and Jesus could give a FLYING FUCK… who I fuck!” That’ll have mom gasping in protest and the evangelicals guffawing piously while I conclude, “That language, by the way, isn’t half as perverse as your beliefs about sexual orientation.” Then I’ll underline it, “Why don’t we all just lay this phobic bullshit on the slag heap of bad beliefs and try to get on without it. We’ll all be a lot happier. I know I’ll be.”
Days & Hours of a Recovering Sex Addict 