Towards the end of my teenage years, a time fraught mostly with disaster and misery for my family, I was fortunate enough to reconcile with my mother and repair bridges burned by teenage hubris. She had made plans to leave the country for a holiday, and asked me to look after her home while she was gone, and then continue to live with the family again. An incredibly generous offer, as it gave me an opportunity to remove myself from a poisonous relationship I had stupidly fallen into.
The passage of time can change a few things, and as it had been a few years since I’d seen my mothers home, I was a first struck by a few new decorative additions. Some inspirational throw pillows, a few cross-stitched wall hangings filled with heart warming passages and few copies of the Book of Mormon scattered playfully across the kitchen table. My mother had found God during my time away from the family fold.
This wasn’t going to be a problem, it was simply a surprise. Being raised agnostic at best, staunch atheist at worst, it wasn’t expected. However I was just glad she had found strength in her new system.
Let me take a quick moment to fill you in on what Mormonism means. I’m sure it’ll get covered elsewhere in more detail, but for now let’s understand that Mormons are big on immediate family, big on servicing their extended spiritual family and big on food. For me this meant I got to sleep in on Sunday mornings while other members of the household went to pay their respects at Temple and the in the afternoon a small group of Missionaries would join us to lighten the load with household chores and share a meal. It was like a wonderful Rent-A-Mormon service, where you could get your gutters cleaned in exchange for a roast beef sandwich. Aside from the magic underwear and angels digging up golden tablets, those Mormons are alright.
At the time I had just broken up a relationship with a young girl that was horrible for me in every way, and entered into a rather awkward relationship with another lass, who was also completely terrible for me. Falling in love with gorgeous girls who destroy me emotionally has since become a lifelong hobby.
Rachel, my newly acquired girlfriend was less accepting of the Mormon presence in the house than I was. When she visited they clearly made her uncomfortable, and as she was the owner of some naked parts that I was very eager to interact with, I went along with her whims and would either bait these poor kids into embarrassing conversations, or simply ignore them when they attempted to treat me like a normal human being. I was a horrible bastard, but they were smart kids and I would soon learn that underestimating them would be my romantic undoing.
Rachel and I were sitting down to a meal with my mother and sister, joined by four of our regular Rent-a-Mormons. They always travel in pairs, and are never left alone with members of the opposite sex. I’m told this was to ensure their security and to keep one another honest. The world being full of sin and temptation as it is. Barney and Fred always traveled together and their female counterparts, Betty and Wilma did the same.
We finished eating and Rachel and I decided to excuse ourselves so that I could attempt to impress her by awkwardly rummaging around underneath her lady-garments in an effort to curl her toes. This was back in the 90′s, in a time before Internet pornography had become so pervasive that every teenager with a mobile telephone was never further than three clicks away from something new disgraceful idea to thrust upon their partner-in-lust. Worth noting also was my almost complete lack of real experience with people of the female persuasion at this point in my life. I had rarely been fortunate to convince the objects of my affection to be naked in the same room with me, or often in the same postcode, so I was committed to making the most of this post-dinner tryst.
We had shuffled off to a bedroom towards the back of the house and began negotiating the minefield of bra straps and young-adult inadequacy complexes, when we were interrupted by brisk knock at the door. It was Barney.
“Dan”, he called out. “Dan, I have something for you!”
This was not going to stand. “We’re a little busy in here Barney, another time perhaps.”
We listened intently for signs of life by the door and on recognising none, we decided to proceed with our unchaste pass-time. Clothes began flying and I was absolutely certain that this was going to be a stunning experience. The evening I had been waiting weeks for. My opportunity to finally prove to Rachel what a worldly, impressive man between the sheets I could be. I’d just have to be making it up as I went and hope she didn’t notice me checking the notes I had made earlier over her shoulder. Insert, rotate, cuddle.
I summoned my most dulcet tone and began whispering to her, “Now.. this only goes as far as you-” KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. There was a desperate urgency to the wrapping of knuckles on the plywood fixtures this time around. Barney was clearly a man with a plan.
“Dan, it’s really important. I’ve got to give you something!”
Leaping from bed and pulling on a pair of shorts that had found their way to the floor, I crossed the room in a bound and flung the door open with the kind of frustration one can only muster when their already delicate manliness is on the line.
I was met by Barney, Fred, Wilma and Betty, all huddled together inches from the doorway. My mother was front and centre. If any man can maintain a turgid state when confronted with this kind of picture is a stronger, or much stranger man than I. The mood officially ruined, I pressed for this matter that required my undivided and urgent attention.
“What Barney? We’re a bit busy here.”
Barney carefully surveyed the scene in front of him. The floor littered with clothes. The ruffled young lady staring back at him from bed. My unkempt and miserable face, inches from his own. A look washed over his face that I’d long considered confusion, but on further reflection I think it may have been satisfaction. His timing hadn’t been awful, it had been perfect. His hands flew from behind his back to produce his masterpiece.
“Here Dan, I made you this!”
In his hands he held a balloon sculpture of grand scale. A pair of white doves sitting inside a large love-heart. I was stunned. I had no contingency plan to deal with surprise balloon sculptures. I attempted to brush this off, turning down his hand crafted offer and turned to close the door and at least attempt to return to the scheduled program.
“No, what are you doing? Take it!” Rachel cried at me from the bed, suddenly forgetting her modesty and becoming enchanted with the inflatable anaphrodisiac. I snatched it from Barneys hands and caught his eye just long enough to recognise that look in his eye. Pleased and proud, he had won.
I closed the door and passed the rubbery sculpture to Rachel. She was enthralled and spent the rest of the evening telling me how sweet the notion was. I was never invited into her underwear again. That was the last day I took a girlfriend near the Rent-A-Mormons, and I made a point to avoid circuses and anywhere there might be balloons in future, just to be on the safe side.