So I started going to my boyfriend Fred's United Methodist church. They thought that was ok. A little too liberal, but ok.
After Fred and I broke up, I tried Catholic, Lutheran, and Russian Orthodox churches. My parents were ok with that, too, as long as I didn't tell their Nazarene friends.
During my first year in grad school in Bloomington, Indiana, I joined the Baptist Student Fellowship.
My parents were horrified!
Nazarenes thought that Baptists were the ultimate evil. At least the Catholics and Lutherans were open about worshipping idols and tearing apart the Bible, but the Baptists pretended to be Christians.
They believed the "once saved, always saved" heresy -- once you were saved, you could do whatever you wanted, from going to movies to dancing to saying bad words, and God wouldn't care. Disgusting!
When I was a kid, the older boys at church whispered that since Baptists had no morals, they would "put out" for anybody. So if you wanted a "sure thing" on a date, ask a Baptist girl.
I didn't join the Baptist Student Fellowship to upset my parents; I wanted to see if Baptist boys were also "easy," willing to "put out" for anybody. Especially me.
They weren't. At least at first glance, they seemed nearly as strict as the Nazarenes, exhorting each other to "stay pure" and "resist their urges." Like the Nazarenes, they taught that God hated premarital sex, same-sex activity, masturbation, any sexual act that wasn't intended to make a baby.
Our main project was putting on a musical about a guy who makes obnoxious come-ons to every girl in sight, until one of them invites him to church, where he gets saved and vows to "stay pure" until his wedding night. I only remember one song:
The Devil is alive and well on the Planet Earth.
The Devil is alive and well, and he can make you feel like hell....
Feel like hell was code for Having erotic desires or giving in to them. But church elders disapproved, so we changed the line to "send your soul to hell."
Beginning around Christmastime, we performed for youth groups at various Baptist churches in the area. Not only in Bloomington, but in Columbus, Martinsville, and Indianapolis, cities up to an hour's drive away.
Then one Sunday in the spring, we were booked by a church in Plymouth, Indiana, about three hours away -- too far to get home after the evening youth group. So we car-pooled on Sunday afternoon, and after our performance, church members gave us dinner and put us up for the night.
The four boys in the cast stayed with an elderly couple whose sons had grown up and moved away.
I got one of the twin beds, and Chuck, a rather buffed business major, the other one. A slim, blond chemistry major named Jens slept on a sleeping bag between us and beneath a large window, and the fourth guy, whose name I don't recall, received a cot on the other side of the room. Just like a sleepover when I was a kid, except I was 22 years old, knowledgeable about cruising, and anxious to convince the Baptist boys to try some same-sex activity.
After we stripped down to our underwear, prayed, and started talking about "girls! girls! girls!," it occurred to me that I had no idea how to go about it.
Grab the guy next to me?
Pull out a gay porn magazine?
Say "Hey fellows, does anyone feel like hell??
Completely frustrated, I put a pillow over my head and tried to drown out the other guys' conversations about "girls! girls! girls!"
Eventually the conversation gave way to mild snoring. I peeked out from under my pillow. If I turned my head slightly, I got a perfect view of Jens. He had kicked off the covers and lay on his back, wearing only cotton briefs, his slim pale body bathed in moonlight.
I could see him bulging and...and..well, nothing else.
I continued my vigil, half watching and half drowsing, until, about half an hour after the conversation ceased, Jens began to tent. Then slowly he began to give in to temptation.
He worked slowly, deliberately, listening for any sound: any shift or creak from the beds around him, and he dove under the covers again.
After about a half hour, he finished with an exhaled breath and grabbed a wad of kleenix that he had evidently prepared in advance.
One down, two to go. I turned my attention to Chuck, also lying on his back in the moonlight. I had a clear view of his shoulders and chest, but anything below was lost in shadows. But I persevered, and sure enough, a few minutes after Jens began breathing evenly, I saw a slow, rhythmic movement that must have been Chuck giving in to his sinful urges.
The third guy was too far away to make out in the darkness, but no doubt he waited for the others to finish up, then started on business of his own.I imagined it happening every night, in bedrooms and college dorm rooms all over the world. Thousands of Baptist boys and men waiting for the midnight silence, then beginning an act that they believed God hated, that they couldn't admit even to their closest friends, that made them feel guilty and unclean. Perhaps begging for forgiveness and promising themselves that they would never do it again. But, being overpowered by their desire, night after night.
It was a little sad.
But it definitely helped create my fetish for religious guys.
See also Trying to Escape Church and Cruising Religious Guys.