Utah is a weird fucking place.
I love so much of it, don’t read me wrong.
We have the best mountains in America. I’m convinced of it. On those mountains we have the best snow. In that snow we have a bunch of awesome skiers, as well as a bunch of snowboarders determined to ruin the slopes (but that’s another post for another day).
We have some of the best people. I’ve done business with people all over the world, and I honestly believe some of the most integrity-filled people are here in Utah.
We have the best landscapes. And the best street system. And the most commonly-tied groups of people.
We also have lots and lots of Mormons, even now after ten-years of what has been a solid mass-exodus from the church.
And those Mormons, many of whom I love very much, are extremely conservative. Like, the kind of conservative that’d make just about any even semi-liberal person’s butt pucker.
No booze. None. Zip. Nada. No beer. No wine even. None of it.
No swearing. No cursing. Many of them won’t even “kind-of swear.” No damns. No hells. No shits. No fucks. They will say twat sometimes, but only because they don’t know what it means and here in Utah people misuse it for the word “twit.” I’ll never educate them otherwise. It’s just too hilarious.
No being perverted. No dropping innuendo. No sex jokes. No jokes about swinging, or swinging naked from chandeliers. No dick jokes. No booby jokes. Not really.
Did I mention no booze? Oh yeah. I did.
Definitely no smoking. No weed. No cigs. I couldn’t even get one person whom I know and love to use my Vitamin-B12 vape because it was “too close to the real thing.”
And booze. They won’t even…
Oh yeah. I already mentioned that.
You get the point.
And that’s fine. If there’s one thing I believe, it’s that every person’s life is their fucking own. If you want to go booze-free and not say sailor’s words, then by all means… Live that way.
But… Dear Mormons…
Dear Mormon friends…
Dear Mormon siblings…
Dear Mormon neighbors…
And any other Mormons who might just happen to find yourself a guest in my home…
Don’t expect me to live YOUR morals in the sanctity of MY home while you’re here, just so that you’re more comfortable.
I will drink, if the occasion calls for drinking.
I will curse, undoubtedly.
I won’t smoke, because I don’t do that, but… I’ll let anyone else smoke out on the balcony who is a smoker.
I will be perverted. And say naughty things. And make terrible jokes, the kind I make with all my friends.
And believe me. I WILL drink booze if the occasion…
Oh shit. I already said that.
You get the point.
The rest of Utah is yours. I watch every single thing I say and do when I’m in YOUR home. I don’t bring alcohol to your house. I don’t curse. I don’t show-off my pervy side. I watch my mouth in general public places, too, because I know how hot the steam is in your ears when you hear that stuff.
But not in my home.
It’s my home.
It’s my sanctuary.
It’s the one place in the whole world where I have every right and dare I say? I even have the obligation to be me, fully me, and all the me I can possibly be.
You’ll survive. I promise.
If that makes you terribly uncomfortable, just don’t come. That’s what she said.
Don’t get me wrong. I won’t go out of my way to make you uncomfortable. I’ll probably even tune-it down a bit from the standard quo that exists when I’m with my dearest friends. I just won’t turn it off and pretend to be someone I’m not.
I would sincerely hope the same is true for you in your home.