unholy thoughts.

During my third year in college both I and one of my closest friends went through elightenments of sorts: I found my way out of the closet and Jami found her way to the teachings of Joseph Smith - a spiritual conversion that was mostly in response to the house full of baby faced missionaries that lived next door and with whom she frequently [and secretly] visited.

As Jami's fondness for the boys increased mine followed; There is just something about those white shirts ... that doe-faced innnocence ... the promise of a cyclist's perfectly muscled legs under those church issued black trousers...

If we spotted the boys sunbathing on their porch, Jami (the new and ever holy Mormon girl) and I would drive by and honk the horn just to see the boys stand and wave. My-oh-my, Jesus had blessed these boys with perfect chests to hold the hearts that beat for only Him!

Jami has since fallen out of favor with the LDS, but like me, her fondnes for those aptly and sublty named boys lives on...

I am reminded of this because of a recently found secret:



It's refreshing to know that Jami and I are not alone. Thank you Mr. Smith, thank you.