My Christian Romance Novel

christian romanceI’m seeing lots of these on Amazon. Honestly, never read one. That’s a good thing. It leaves me un-jaded. Here’s my version.

Book Title: Sex for Jesus

Author: Hugh Jorgan (Yes, a pseudonym, silly.)

Introduction: Bethany and Justin are two adults trying to find their way as a loving couple that lives by rules laid down by misogynistic old fucks way back before central heating. Hormones are a-raging, as they typically are for people in their early 20s. The lovers struggle to decide how to satisfy their desires, without offending some cloud-pillow riding pervert, who really should be sending food to Africa instead of watching these two bone.

Bethany: “Oh, Justin, my little love button longs for your touch.”

Justin: “Let me check the rules. Hm. Here it is. Yes! I am allow to stroke your love bean. Hooray! But, then what about my flesh pipe?”

Bethany: “I imagine I could give it few yanks without offended our Lord and Savior.”

Justin: “I don’t know. Better check. Let’s see–yes, a few dozen yanks are permitted as long as there’s no condom involved. Thank God for that. I mean, literally.”

Bethany: “Fun! Wait. Should I be wearing gloves?”

Justin: “Heavens no. Let’s lie next to each other and play the organs.”

Bethany: “Why, Justin, that feels quite nice. Oh, my. I really want you inside me, but we’re not married, so in the eyes of our Lord, that would be a sin.”

Justin: “Fuck. Ooh, sorry. Need to remember that one for confession. Hey, that’s it! Confession. Holy shit! We can do just about anything, then simply confess it on Saturday, and we’re good to go.”

Bethany: “Really? Is the punishment for intentional sins more severe than for accidental ones?”

Justin: “What do you mean?”

Bethany: “Well, for example, if we do some completely legal grinding–let’s say with our chonies on–and due to all the friction and slop, they happen to accidentally slip to one side and, by golly, if your dinky-do happens to do something accidental, like enter my love tunnel, it would be a sin, but not a severe one. I’m thinking five or ten Our Fathers should cover it.”

Justin: “Sounds like a plan. But, now that we’ve discussed it, if it happens, it probably leans more toward the intentional sin thing.”

Bethany: “Fuck. Whoops. One for me too. Can you look up the premarital sex penalty?”

Justin: “Sure. Not so bad–a few dozen prayers. We’re not allowed to use condoms, though. Ooh, and look here in the fine print: anal sex is not covered.”

Bethany: “Sorry, mister. I’ll take the few dozen prayers over a sore, leaky butt hole.”

Justin: “Cool. Let’s do it.”

Ten seconds later…

Justin: “Oh, Christ … sorry … I’m about to explode. What should I do? I think if I spill my seed upon the ground, it’s bad.”

Bethany: “Wait. Hold on. No spilling for another twenty minutes, at least. If I’m blowing an hour of my Saturday, I’m getting an orgasm out of this too.”

Justin: “But, I can’t hold back. Could I spill my seed upon your boobs?”

Bethany: “No, damn you!”

Justin: “Unnngoooooeyarggh.”

Bethany: “Fucker.”

…and they both lived crappily ever after, trying to fight their natural urges by following primeval rules.

Fine. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.

My adventure in writing “Mommy Porn.”

In order to complete my coattail-riding parody, I’ve been forced to read the Fifty Shades trilogy. I’ve made it through the first two. “No great accomplishment,” you say? I disagree. Making it the entire way through one of these books–keeping in mind that I have external ovaries–is like running a marathon … in mud … in high heels … after eating five Doritos-shelled tacos.

I haven’t cringed so much since I saw Joe Theismann’s leg snapped.

Still, life is best lived with an open mind and an open heart. Perhaps one day I would enjoy taking the virginity of a hyper-orgasmic punching bag. Doubtful.

My greatest concern lies around the first post-Fifty sexual encounter I have. (Been on a bit of a slump, lately. Sorry, Coach.) Chances are Ms. Next will have read the trilogy, and is unlikely to be familiar with my parodies. Here’s a list of things that could happen:

  • She’ll fantasize about Christian Grey and yell out his name, which will cause instantaneous deflation.
  • She’ll murmur any-fucking-thing.
  • She’ll moan into my mouth. (I just burped-up a little.)
  • She’ll begin using safe words before I get her jeans off.
  • She’ll want to be face-down on or about Chapter Ten before permitting penetration.
  • She’ll expect me to own a helicopter with a silly name like Barney Slapnuts.
  • She’ll request me to kick her boss in the kerbangers or buy out his company, if she has a bad day at the office.
  • She’ll scare the piss out of my cats by making guttural sounds.

Thanks to that evil James woman, I’m going to have to rewrite my sexual playbook. The plays that worked pre-Fifty, simply won’t do. I’ve had to tear this page out and shred it:

  1. Drink bottle of wine.
  2. Watch The Notebook, or something similar.
  3. Go to bedroom.
  4. Light candle.
  5. Disrobe.
  6. Kiss.
  7. Go down on her.
  8. Hint for her to return the favor.
  9. Mount, poke taint, concede to guided insertion.
  10. Flop over.
  11. Be mounted and play with boobs.
  12. Orgasm.
  13. Think of clever things to say.
  14. Fetch towel.
  15. Wipe.
  16. Find clothes in dark.
  17. Walk out to car.
  18. Kiss.
  19. Speak words of appreciation.
  20. Sleep.

The post-Fifty playbook needs some Bill Belichick shit. What’s a man to do? How does one fit anything that won’t cause yawning? I’m at the drawing board, making room for:

  1. Butt plugs.
  2. Fungo ass paddles.
  3. Vodka enemas.
  4. Hiney beads coated in mint jelly.
  5. Super Soakers.
  6. Brass balls that are inserted … Fuck, I have no clue how this is possible or pleasurable.
  7. Remote controlled vibrators.
  8. Whips.
  9. Fake stock portfolio statements showing seven digits.
  10. Nipple clamps.

This could drive me toward early retirement.

It’s time to put the man back in romance.

Hey, what about us? We feel neglected as we stare at a sea of Hallmark cards full of words we’d borrow to keep your fire burning. Love is more than just a blowjob, you know. We could use some non-sexual treats too. Think of the stress we go through at the florist’s counter.

“I would like some flowers, please.”
“All right, which ones?”
“Real ones?”
“I mean which types of flowers? Roses? Tulips? Lillies?”
“Um, yes?”
“OK. Let’s start with the recipient.”
“My girlfriend.”
“The occasion?”
“I see. Budget?”
“Whatever it takes.”
“I have no way of knowing that, sir. Can you give me a ballpark?”
“Jesus, not as expensive as a ballpark.”
“Baseball joke. I get it–you were speaking metaphorically. What can I get for twenty bucks?”
“A pat on the head from a disappointed lady.”
“Fine. Fifty?”
“We can create a nice arrangement for fifty. Would you like a vase?”
“No, I wouldn’t. Would she?”
“A vase it is.”

Can you feel the turmoil? This poor lad is knocking years off his life with chores like holding doors, tucking chairs, remembering important dates, and delivering jewelry. Where’s the reciprocation? He deserves something more than permission to squeeze boobies.

Here are the top ten suggestions for romancing your man:

  1. Bacon – It doesn’t matter what it comes with, just make it crispy.
  2. Kegerator – We’ll even keep it in the cold basement or garage.
  3. Bathe Us – Ah, to be surrounded by suds. Add a frosty mug while you’re at it.
  4. Wings – See #1.
  5. Headphones – Really good ones that help us ignore things … not you, of course.
  6. Women-Only Weekend – We trust you. Can you take the kids too?
  7. Fine Cigars
  8. Single Malt Scotch
  9. Nine Uninterrupted Innings – If you want to know what HBP stands for, Google it.
  10. Neck Rubs – Extra points if you do it topless.

There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?


The decisive moment arrives after a few dates when it’s time to adjust your strategy. Depending on how much you like the person, you should pursue, trail slightly, or lay way back. Be careful though as you can scare away your prey if you’re reckless. Then again, if it is your intention to ditch the datee, your actions could inadvertently create a love leech.

For example, if you are frightened and falling for this person, your tendency to overdo it could leave you sobbing. Therefore, men, if this is you, don’t:

  • Buy her jewelry.
  • Say those three words.
  • Book any fancy vacations for two.
  • Tell her or any of your male friends.
  • Buy her a puppy.
  • Introduce her at a work function as your girlfriend.
  • Ask her father anything other than which scotch he prefers.
  • Send flowers to her workplace.
  • Tell her she’s the best lover you ever had.
  • Over-call or text her.

Ladies can play this game poorly as well. It’s OK to tell your mom, sister, and best friends “he might be the one,” but for fuck’s sake, don’t tell him. Also, don’t:

  • Leave anything at his house other than a hair pull. That means no underwear, toothbrushes, or lotions.
  • Show up unannounced at one of his boys’ nights out.
  • Discuss finances.
  • Forget to take your pill.
  • Touch his penis while he’s driving. Wait. OK, scratch that one.
  • Ask strangers to take pictures of the happy couple, and if you already did that, never freaking ever make said picture your mobile phone wallpaper or profile picture.
  • Book a couples massage.
  • Rearrange his stuff or clean anything.
  • Ask how many lovers he has had. You don’t want to know and he’d lie anyway.
  • Email him love quotes.

Trailing the object of your desire is the most successful method. It keeps the other person engaged without feeling pestered. Do this by:

  • Not sending more than two unanswered texts or anything over 140 characters.
  • Maintaining nights where you are unavailable.
  • Leaving before breakfast.
  • Resisting the urge to check his or her cell phone and keeping yours inaccessible.
  • Leaving your online dating profiles visible, but inactive … for now.
  • Using the “I was drunk” excuse to cover your ass when doing or saying something stupid in the heat of the moment.
  • Suggesting you each do your own thing and maybe meet up later.
  • Maintaining radio silence while attending a bachelor/bachelorette party.
  • Insisting there is separation of lovers and relatives.
  • Leaving some of the ex’s belongings around the house to be discovered.

Chasing the next ex away is simple. Be sure to add a sprinkle of meanness into the breakup so the person doesn’t become that stray animal that follows you everywhere. Here’s a great line you can borrow:

  • “There’s no chemistry so if your phone doesn’t ring, it’s probably me.”