A true Southern Gentleman.

I grew up in the very southern state of North Carolina, and have always been proud of my southern heritage. I love the slow drawl of a really good southern accent (think Dolly Parton, or, if you know me, my Dad), and I love the goodness and the generosity of the culture. Another thing you find in bountiful quantities in the south is religion... good, honest, church-goin people that are always willing to give you the food off their tables or the clothes off their backs. What you don't find a lot of in the south, is my religion. Mormons are somewhat of a mystery to most people. I was one of four or five Mormons in my high school - the only one in my graduating class. I had many friends who were very considerate of my beliefs and understood that while not traditionally Protestant, I was still very much a Christian. And then, there were those that considered it a personal mission to help me see the "light". I often found notes in my locker urging me to turn away from darkness, repent, and accept Jesus.

Ummm, thanks. Already done that.

The thing is, it didn't really bother me. I was very comfortable in my Mormon skin. I knew what I believed, I loved what I believed, and though it very frequently made me different, and occasionally left me standing alone, I didn't mind.

That's why when Brad shared with me how he felt about my faith, all I could do was laugh. I wasn't technically dating Brad. He was 16, I was only 15, and not yet allowed to date. But we were participating in the proverbial "going out" and had a very committed relationship of maybe 10 or 11 days. After spending the day with his family at an antique car show, we were riding home in the backseat of his parent's car. Brad was very, very southern. His slow drawl made it that much more charming when he took my hands into his, looked sweetly into my eyes and said,

"I don't want this to affect our relationship J, but I think you're going to Hell." (when reading, be sure to pronounce Hell as Hey-ulll... we must be true to his dialect, and it's funnier that way too.)

Okay, so you still want to be able to date, and hold my hand and snuggle in the backseat of your parent's car, as long as I understand that you think my soul is doomed to everlasting torment?

Right then. So sweet of you.

I laughed out loud as I scooted myself far into the corner of my own seat. I mean, come on... did he actually think I would stick around after he said something like that?

"Oh please. Kiss me again. Then we can discuss my damnation even further."

I don't remember the details of our breakup, except that I was not, in any regard, heartbroken. I can only hope that in all my wisdom of fifteen years, I was at least able to handle the situation in a manor that did not contribute to his ill opinion of Mormons. Seriously though... what a novel approach to dating. He should teach a class: Wooing with Biblical Insults. I can see it going really far.

*This blog entry was originally posted in May of 2008... back in the day when four comments was a lot. So. I'm recycling. Hope you enjoy.