I’ve heard more than a few people declare that “God should be in the bedroom.” I’m not religious, which makes me a little slow when it comes to understanding what the pious crowd is trying to articulate. Bear with me for a sec.
It’s just…I guess I’m not enough of an exhibitionist to want a third party in the boudoir with my lover and I. When someone says “God should be in the bedroom,” I immediately picture the dark, shadowy silhouette of Jesus sitting in the corner, camcorder in one hand, dick in the other, fervently spanking the monkey and breathing raggedly as I try to enjoy some personal time with my partner. Awkward.
“Oh Britt,” you might scoff, “You know damn well that people simply mean we should behave as though God is watching our every move; therefore, the only person you should copulate with is your opposite-gendered spouse, thereby attaining sanctity from the great Santa in the Sky.”
I gotcha…although I suspect that all the priests who had sex with altar boys would prefer to keep God out of THEIR private chambers, as well. Just saying.
Author: Britt Warner
