It was a constant refrain, a truth that lived deep within me: sex was wrong, desire and lust were ugly, faith and God should be enough to sustain us. A lack of purity was the reason for divorces, infidelity, unhappiness. Adults IРІР‚в„ўd known my whole life gave tearful, heartfelt presentations to my youth group on the guilt they carried over having sex before marriage, stories and anecdotes of the damage that those few moments had wrought, the endless reasons that physical intimacy destroyed absolutely everything about otherwise wonderful partnerships. DonРІР‚в„ўt you value your future marriage enough to stay pure in the present? A few moments of pleasure arenРІР‚в„ўt worth a lifetime of regret and shame. ItРІР‚в„ўs the greatest gift you can give your husband, the preachers would say.

Most important of all, what gave me value, defined my life, made me a true woman of God: I dressed modestly, didnРІР‚в„ўt flirt with boys, and pledged that I would stay pure until marriage. Only applied to religious colleges, so that my technical theatre degree wouldnРІР‚в„ўt be tainted or rendered worthless by РІР‚СљunholyРІР‚Сњ productions. Was part of my youth groupРІР‚в„ўs leadership team, led prayers and Bible studies, sang in my fatherРІР‚в„ўs choir, went on mission trips, memorized verses, met other believers around the flagpole at my public high school wearing my black WWJD bracelet. Listened to terrible Christian rock instead of secular radio, avoided the television programs my parents didnРІР‚в„ўt approve of. DidnРІР‚в„ўt drink or swear, kept curfew, abandoned dreams of a job or a car in favor of having more time to spend on church activities. Went to the church my parents had planted every Sunday and to events throughout the week, took notes while my father preached, helped my mother plan religious events and weddings, volunteered in the nursery and the kitchen. I did what I was told growing up, for the most part. She meant it as a kindness, not a threat. Until then, itРІР‚в„ўs our job to protect you from temptation.

Someday you will fall in love with a boy who loves God more than you, who wants to shelter you and keep you safe. YouРІР‚в„ўre unevenly yoked, my mother told me with tears in her eyes, the flowers trembling in her hands. And attending a school dance with a male friend, no matter how sweet he was, wasnРІР‚в„ўt allowed РІР‚вЂњ he didnРІР‚в„ўt go to our church, or any church, which made him unacceptable as a partner. Good Christian Girls didnРІР‚в„ўt date nonreligious boys, even when theyРІР‚в„ўre kind and courteous, polite and respectful, artistic and gentle. It was an apology and a reminder all in one, a tangible representation of my virginity and my separateness. Every stem had a small card attached with a ribbon, Bible verses of righteousness and cleanliness and virtue copied in my motherРІР‚в„ўs compact handwriting. This bouquet was presented to me alongside tears and professions of love, a way to help me understand the preciousness of my chastity. Pure and sweet, their petals were tight, delicate, guarded. My mother gave me a dozen pink rosebuds when I was in high school. РІР‚СљThe wife does not have authority over her own body,Р”В«ut yields it to her husband.РІР‚Сњ -1 Corinthians 7:4 The 200 Best Lesbian, Bisexual & Queer Movies Of All Time.LGBTQ Television Guide: What To Watch Now.

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