(Editor’s Note: This piece comes from issue 150 of Sunstone. It was written by an anonymous author. Subscribe here. The illustrations are by Jeanette Atwood.)
At age twenty-four, I, a female virgin, married a twenty-five-year-old male returned missionary, also a virgin, in the temple of the Lord.
While most modern, non-LDS Americans consider the marriage of virgins miraculous, for my husband and me, it was simply the one true way. After all, we were obedient Latter-day Saint kids with our sights set on eternal exaltation. We were prepared for temple marriage. We were eager to fulfill our duty to be fruitful, multiply, replenish the earth, raise up righteous seed unto the Lord, and fill an Econoline van or two with our offspring.
We were not, however, prepared for sex.
We believed then, as now, that the salvation of our souls depends on our willingness to align ourselves with God’s commandments. So, as an unmarried couple, we followed the sage advice of our church leaders and parents. You know it well: Be in by midnight. Feet on the floor at all times. Never enter the bedroom of a member of the opposite sex for any reason. Don’t touch anything that bulges on your date’s body. Don’t touch yourself.
Admittedly, we paid less attention to the admonitions against kissing. Our kisses were hardly like those between a brother and a sister, and had President Kimball (the prophet at the time) happened upon one of our embraces, he might well have tapped us on the shoulder and said, “Dear children, that behavior is in similitude of the marriage act.” But all temptations considered, our courtship experience was downright wholesome. So wholesome, in fact, it’s a wonder we got married.
But we did wed.
I finally danced with the last uncle on the list, the band packed up, the reception ended, and suddenly we were joining the generations of Mormon newlyweds before us who had raced toward the Moment—that singular moment when two virgins collide atop the marriage bed.
My brand-new husband, who drove in near silence, broke every traffic law en route to the hotel. He was thinking . . . Well, actually I don’t think he was thinking at all. My mind, on the other hand, brimmed with one dreadful realization: Everyone who knew me knew exactly what I would be doing in half an hour. (Of course, that minor embarrassment wasn’t going to stop me.)
Alone in the bathroom of our bridal suite, I slipped into the white negligee I had bought at J.C. Penney with my mother’s credit card. I skipped the blush since I didn’t need it and instead, touched up my lipstick and mascara.
I stepped out into the darkened bedroom. By the light of the muted television, I watched my new husband, clad in his sacred, polyester garments, turn down the bed covers. He came to me, kissed me, and invited me to lie down.
Being a perfectly prepared new bride, I asked, “Don’t you want to pray first?”
His brows pinched and he looked at me like I’d lost my marbles. “No,?” he said and gave me a gentle, downward push of encouragement.
I complied. He stood at the foot of the bed, between me and the flickering television, and slowly removed his garment top—a striptease I suspected him of rehearsing alone in front of a mirror.
As I watched his silhouette, backlit by a muted, late night television show, I worried that we weren’t starting our marriage off on the right foot. My mind replayed the testimony meeting in which the token young-married counselor in my BYU ward had told the story of his wedding night—of how he, as the priesthood bearer in their newly formed family, had insisted that his virgin bride pray with him before they consummated their marriage. He indicated that, to this day, they continue to pray before intercourse as a reminder that sex within marriage is sacred.
My new husband obviously wasn’t thinking about anything sacred. And quite frankly, I was having a hard time myself considering that he now had his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his garment bottoms.
Down they went.
I’m sure my husband expected a squeal of delight, but I’m afraid the noise that came out of me as he pulled down his drawers wasn’t quite that. I had never seen a naked man before, except for that time my younger brother had chased me around the house with a magazine photo he’d rooted out of a dumpster: Burt Reynolds in his all and all.
And let me tell you, Burt’s limp little buddy bore no resemblance to my new husband’s noble Prince Albert. I had no idea Prince Albert would jump up like that.
I didn’t mean to scream. More than twenty years later, I’m still apologizing for it.
To this day, I clearly recall the expression on his face as my shriek subsided. I knew that, at that moment, my husband was having his first complete cogitation since we’d left the reception. Sadly, like mine, it went something like: “This isn’t starting out right.”
In spite of his shattered ego and my shattered illusions, we proceeded on schedule and completed the deal in record time. He rolled over, thanking God marriage is eternal, and I lay, sprawled out on the bed, wondering, “Was that it?”
Though we practiced faithfully throughout our honeymoon, sex didn’t get any better for me, and I began to wonder if God hadn’t made me right.
Needless to say, “it” was not like in the movies—not that I’d ever seen movies that showed detail. But my husband made plenty of suggestions to remedy our problem, culminating in the desperate act of visiting the local bookstore. I went along, but in the end, I found it too humiliating to stand beside my S-E-X partner and in front of “those kinds” of books.
The result? My husband picked the book. I soon found myself sitting beside him on the edge of our mattress looking at sketches of naked couples in the most diverting of positions and listening as he earnestly read instructional excerpts from More Joy of Sex. Somehow I lacked faith in the title.
My husband pointed to one particular pose and said, “Let’s try that.”
I turned the book sideways, then upside-down . . . “I don’t think that’ll help.”
“It can’t hurt,” he said.
I’ve always been a pretty good sport, so we tried it. It didn’t help, and when my husband wasn’t looking, the book mysteriously vanished.
I won’t divulge how long it was before I figured out that my anatomy wasn’t aberrant and that my button could be pushed, but I will say that it was a long time. A very long time. I mean, it seemed like such a really, really, long, long, long time. Interestingly, I didn’t figure it out until I did what a stay-at-home Mormon mom like me wasn’t supposed to do.
I watched TV.
Then as now, the prophetic counsel to LDS women who spend their days at home with small children included the advice to refrain from watching television unless, of course, the show was educational for the children or had to do with cooking or decorating. Those soap operas would put strange ideas into our heads, and the talk shows were godless. But loneliness is a powerful enemy, so I’d leave on the television in both the family room and the bedroom. This way, no matter through which room I chased my little one, I had the soothing companionship of an adult voice.
Generally speaking, though, I tried to be a good girl even with the TV on. I religiously kept away from the soaps and turned off the talk shows that outraced my minivan lifestyle. In fact, on the day of my epiphany, I had changed the channel on the television in the family room when the talk show promised a sex therapist who would give advice to several unmarried couples. When I passed into the bedroom with an armful of clean laundry and a screaming toddler clamped to my kneecap, I reached for the remote, intending to turn the show off in this room as well.
But just as my finger poised over the power button, that sex therapist uttered the sentence that changed my life. She said, “No woman has ever had an orgasm from sexual intercourse alone.”
Stop the presses! Hold the door! Step away from that remote!
I plopped down on the edge of the bed (suddenly a hopeful place). I clasped my hand over my little one’s mouth and tried to listen while he struggled for air. Fortunately, they quickly broke for commercials.
I ran back to the kitchen, filled up a sippy cup and shoved Peter Pan into the VCR in the family room. I returned to my bedroom and drank in every word that therapist said, even though she was giving immoral advice to people participating in illicit sexual relations. Hallelujah and thank God for them. To my consternation, I realized that my husband had had the right idea all along. But now I knew the secret that would make it all better. That night I slipped off to the grocery store, bought my first tube of K-Y, and finally, finally, learned what all the fuss is about.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering what on earth possesses me to air the intimate corners of my life in so public a place. I’ve chosen to do so because I expect that my experience is not uncommon. The topic is on my mind because I have children who walk the straight and narrow and are now approaching a marriageable age. I know that they think as I thought: that since they understand the mechanics of procreation, they know all they need to know about sex. But I also know from discussion with them that they don’t understand the pleasure principle, at least as it relates to women. I think ahead to the time each becomes engaged. How will I broach the subject?
I realize that for most couples in the Western world the idea of receiving sex advice once they are already engaged is akin to telling a child how to use a spoon after he’s wolfed down his oatmeal. But faithful Latter-day Saints are not like most people. We’d sooner starve than eat before the prayer is said.
But once those few magic words over an altar change “No! No!” into “Go! Go!” physical passion ought to become a gospel principle that is freely and openly supported and discussed by our people. We often claim that sacred is not secret. If we believe this, we must, as parents, be sure that our children are prepared to not only engage in, but also enjoy, the intimacies of married life.
I’ve heard it said that you don’t have to teach a hungry person how to eat, but hunger has never been declared a sin second only to murder. As a parent who has been there, done that, I will make sure my children are better prepared for sex than my husband and I were when we married. If that means sitting down with them and their intendeds and drawing a diagram, then I guess that is what I’ll do.
Thoughts of my own children lead me to thoughts about others. I worry about the young LDS women who, like me, enter marriage unaware of how their bodies work. They’re embarrassed, ashamed, guilty, or simply naive. They lie beside their husbands at night thinking that something is wrong with the way God made them. I worry about the young faithful men who risk feeling inadequate and frustrated.
Furthermore, I am unsettled by a story my husband told me about a conversation he’d recently had with an elderly Mormon man—a husband, father, and grandfather to dozens. The topic was lesbianism.
“I just don’t get it,” the old man said, looking squeamish. “What do those women do to each other, you know, to feel good??
Somehow, as I think about the cluelessness of this aged gentleman and what I imagine as the heartache of his wife who has lived for so many decades with a man who believes intercourse alone is what satisfies, my decision to be brutally candid about my husband’s and my youthful sexual missteps seems worth the trouble of “baring” a little more than my testimony. If our culture can produce married men and women who reach old age without understanding the mechanics of female orgasm, something is obviously amiss.
It is difficult to overcome cultural taboos. We can’t exactly call on the Church to produce a video about the topic or to write a handbook to be given to brides and grooms on the way out of the temple. There won’t be a Sunday School class on the subject. No one will ask you to raise your hand to the square and give a sustaining vote to some good, healthy carnality among Mormon married folk. If our culture is to become more open, more willing to discuss physical pleasures, the change can occur only through the attitudes and behaviors of individual members.
Speaking about sexual pleasure with Mormons can be difficult, to say the least. When I get together with my non-LDS girlfriends, we talk sex. Not dirty sex. Marital sex, and we do it joyfully. But when I meet with LDS women, we talk about our kids; we talk about our jobs; we talk about scrapbooking, and occasionally world events, but we never—and I mean never—discuss our personal level of sexual satisfaction, though we might bemoan the frequency of male desire or the resulting painful episodes of childbirth. This lack of frank discussion comes at a price, and, as with most things, the cost is often highest for those least prepared to pay.
I recently had the opportunity to practice what I am preaching. A member of my Relief Society presidency felt inspired to ask me to substitute-teach a lesson that included a discussion about the marital bond. I read a remark by a prophet that referenced “wifely duties,” and we listed on the board what those duties might include. But all the words they came up with were more than three letters long.
So I asked them to think of “wifely duties” as a code phrase spoken by a genteel, nineteenth-century prophet, and then I waited some more. Finally, I drew a hangman on the board with three lines for letters underneath. “Give me a letter.”
Silence. Wide-eyed silence. Jaw-hanging silence.
I laughed and told them the noose I’d drawn wasn’t going away. Then I wrote a great big “S” in the first spot.
Finally, one of our unmarried college students, home on break, blurted out: “I’m not afraid to say it. Sex.”
The response was instantaneous. We had a conversation like none I’d ever experienced in the Church. Fun, but in no way frivolous. The end result was a general agreement that the physical pleasure associated with sex is a gift from God intended to draw husband and wife closer. We concluded that it is a holy thing to enjoy sex.
The Relief Society president may have turned white, but she allowed the closing prayer.
Needless to say, I became an overnight sensation with the elders quorum. I also received an outpouring of appreciation–over the phone, by email, and in person–from mature, married women who confessed to being uplifted in a whole new way. I discovered that my people do hunger to approach the topic of physical pleasure and intimacy with a sense of joy and thanksgiving.
I encourage those of you who are like me–people with more passion than brains–to find ways to open the discourse, both in your families and among your Mormon friends. Go ahead, brethren. Use a double entendre in priesthood meeting. And sisters, if you really want to have fun at the next bridal shower, leave the toaster on the Wal-Mart shelf and wrap up a silky pair of bikini briefs–for him. Then, when the hostess asks you to give the bride some marital advice, skip the rote and boring “never go to bed angry” and “pray every night.” Instead, give a good, solid piece of sex advice. You’ll be at the top of every guest list created by every future bride in attendance, regardless of what her mother thinks. Or, for that matter, knows.
More important, you’ll go to bed at night knowing you have helped a young married couple to sleep much, much better.
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My question on this and many other topics is “Would God’s only true church really be like this?” God created our minds and our bodies to be “naked and unashamed”. In my opinion anyone who really knows the Lord will face life with joy and excitement and the thrill of finding new things. Truth always makes us free. Don’t be afraid to let go of things that aren’t helpful. From a happy ex Mormon Christian believer.
I don’t think you understand the concept of research. Look at the vocabulary used in the “published scientific articles” you posted links to. Words like “may” and “could” are not indicative of concrete evidence. Also, note that in the BBC News article (a very scientific source, might I add) says that intercourse may not be as effective “because of the possibility of contracting a sexually transmitted infection.” Translated: increased frequency of ejaculation may reduce the risk of prostate cancer, and if you are having sex with a woman who does not have an STD, you will get all the same “benefits” of going solo. Looks like your justification for masturbation just went out the window.
I don’t understand how those professing to have testimonies can just go against what the prophetic counsel because it is “old fashioned.” The prophets (and by extension, the Lord) have said that masturbation is wrong and should be avoided. What else do you need? Plus, if members of the church, especially the youth, understand the reasons behind sexual purity (i.e. procreation and sex between husband and wife is sacred due to it’s role in the Plan of Salvation), there will be a lot fewer misunderstandings and hang-ups.
Granted, talk about sex should be better handled in the Church. That is something I hope to change with my kids (when they get older, of course). Intimacy is a wonderful part of marriage, but it is not the only part. Ask yourself, what if my spouse were to be injured so as to make sex impossible? What would you do? Would you still be able to have a successful relationship/marriage? If you don’t think you would, then you might want to consider the current basis of your relationship/marriage.
Please note: Djinn, I could not find any articles supporting your “research” on either DynaMed or First Consult (they are research collaborations available for health professionals-google them).
Willis, I mean no offense, but I feel really sorry for your wife.
I can’t believe that I’m blogging about this, but here is the actual cite to the reference I mentioned earlier (I really really can’t believe I’m blogging about this):
BJU International, vol 92, p 211, stating “Ejaculatory frequency, especially in early adult life, is negatively associated with the risk of prostate cancer, and thus the molecular biological consequences of suppressed or diminished ejaculation are worthy of further research.”
Also take a look a “Prostatic Congestion” in Wikipedia.
Just because something is good for you doesn’t instantly indicate that you get to do it. See red wine/heart attack risk, but neither should they be mischaracterized. Climbing off soapbox now.
Thank you very much: an excellent article. One correction though, and I know that I am not alone among women in knowing this. It is indeed possible for a woman to have an orgasm from intercourse alone without direct clitoral stimulation. It may be uncommon or even unheard of for some or many women, but it is (wonderfully) possible.
My two cents. By the time I reached my wedding night, just about everything I knew about sex and female anatomy came from looking at porn as a teenager. I cleaned up my act for the most part before my mission, and I was a virgin when I took my wife to the temple. I’ve been able to please my wife from day one, but for me sex is purely a physical act. I keep hearing about the deep emotional and metaphysical bonds that are created by two people when they are intimate, but I’ve never made it past the physical part due to the pornography and I’m afraid it’ll keep me from ever having a deeper, more meaningful relationship with my wife.
Great article. I think this is a very common theme among mormon newliweds. As I read, I started to wonder if my wife was the one who actually wrote it. I think we as members need to do a much better job presenting sex in a positive light, especially in preparing people for marriage.
Scott: I think people set aside past counsel from prophets and apostles all the time, and rightly so, when they are old fashioned opinions. (Think about counsel in the past about birth control, blacks and the priesthood, etc…) Everything that the leaders of the church say is not doctrine nor necessarily true. (FAIR has a great article about defining what is and isn’t Official LDS doctrine – http://en.fairmormon.org/Official_Church_doctrine_and_statements_by_Church_leaders)
djinn: Those articles you cite do tend to show positive effects of masturbation. (still lacking are sources showing a negative effect) However, you make a great point, that just because something is healthy doesn’t mean it’s morally acceptable. The two qualities, healthiness and goodness, are independent. Nowhere in scripture are we told that all of the Lord’s commandments will lead to an increase in health. (I like your example of wine). I’ve written a bit about that myself (http://randomramblingsaboutstuff.blogspot.com/2009/02/does-prostate-cancer-prevention-justify.html)
Personally, I fall on the side that Pres. Kimball and others were giving their opinion. I don’t doubt their sincerity. I just think that some of their statements about sex, and masturbation particularly, were based more on social conditioning than on revelation. I still believe he was a prophet of God. But he’s human. We’re all wrong about lots of things.
European mormons are subjected to a different education, first some countries like mine give extended sexual education to children, including the recognition of erogen zones in the body, all spoken in a very natural and analytic way. Second
we are a minority so we are surounded by other lifestyles, Third, our leadership is different, My bishop in sunday school told us that sex is pleasure too between married couple and EVERYTHING is allowed that both husband and wife agree, except for those things as pornography and including other partners. I grew up like that, then moved to America and found myself in the midst of a closed society… this needs to change or the generations of mormons coming from North America will never enjoy life like a litle group of european mormons
Perhaps the most interesting thing about this article and the subsequent blog experience is how much this all has digressed from the discussion of pre-marital education. Not everyone feels comfortable talking about sex or receiving advice. I’m just glad that my husband and I had the chance to both talk about it first. Advice was given to us both and we discussed it, laughed, blushed and even gagged at some of it.
My main point here is that there’s nothing wrong with learning together, in fact that was perhaps what made our honeymoon and now our marriage into something even more wonderful.
I don’t think it is really a question of doctrine. There are great books out there and honestly we all have the right to follow the spirit on this one. Plenty of women do enjoy sex. Some do not, but perhaps part of that is due in part to a lack of communication. No marriage is perfect, but I personally think that sex helps with the communication; and I’m a woman saying it!
Great article, interesting discussion.
I’m a 48 year old convert to the church and was very touched by this artical. I was far from a vergin when I married yet still grieve at the fact that I was so uninformed about relationships and the opposite sex for most of my life. I’m now twice divorced and feel that I may figure it all out by the time the good Lord calls me home.
I find it laughable that the church touts its self as a family church and does so little for married couples. Sadly, JS
I am a single, lds, female in my 30’s and this topic is of great interest to me currently because I am experiencing an out of control sex drive. My body wants to have a baby and I can’t because I am not married but yet feeling this way has made me so confused and guilty. I have done what I felt I needed to do to release the anxiety (I tried changing my diet, exercise, praying, reading scriptures, other things) and I honestly did not know what else to do when all this started about 14 months ago. I was going crazy feeling like I couldn’t do anything about it. Yes, I have become more “familiar” with my body through this experience which I do believe is a good thing and I have tried to read up on this topic on the web to get more of an lds opinion. Bishops seem to handle the topic of sex differently and as a mature woman I feel wierd discussing my sex life with my Bishop. Is it really his business? I understand the wisdom in the counsel we have been given but I am not a teenager anymore. I am grown up and dealing with a natural desire. Doesn’t God understand that I have always been faithful in every aspect of the gospel but now feel I cannot control these phsyical urges? It seems that leaders have never shyed away from addressing sex and young men but have never really addressed the issues with women. I am trying to get past the guilt and accept what is happening. I am going to discuss things with my doctor to continue to understand how my body should function. I definitely agree that the sex education I received growing up wasn’t enough.
Great article. Thank you so much for “baring more than just your testimony” in an effort to help newly-weds and soon-to-be-weds know what they’re getting into. It was very candid and brave of you.
I’m a 23 year old female virgin who’s very excited to get married, eventually. I luckily was smart enough to ask questions about sex while growing up, and now I have no problem talking about it. I tried asking my parents first when I was little, and it was way too awkward. I usually asked my nonmember sisters instead, lol. Honestly, nonmembers usually have a broader range of experience, and I’d have to be an idiot not to use the resources around me. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble on my wedding night.
I do hope Church members get more comfortable with talking about sex. Somewhere between “no premarital sex” and hearing about my sisters’ sex lives, I managed to get a good idea of how it all works. It’s very hard to learn about sex in a wholesome way while still keeping your temple recommend. And for shy people, there’s almost no hope. I suggest asking as many questions as you can. And any help is appreciated. In the meantime I’ll see what I can do on my end to help out. 🙂
It took me a while to get over the guilt too. I still can’t help but feel it’s wrong, but at the same time, I understand that there are much worse ways I could be settling those urges. I for one am proud of you for making it so long without. You’re much stronger than I am. And as for Heavenly Father, I’m sure he understands the depth of your faithfulness. I’m in no position to question God’s laws, but I don’t see how he could judge cases like these too harshly under the circumstances. He’s too loving. Please don’t get me wrong, I can’t pretend that God makes exceptions, but I do know that he understands how hard this is for you, and he sees how hard you are trying. Don’t let the guilt depress you. You’re still doing great. I hope this helps.
I want to be in the OP Relief Society!
I have 2 comments on church doctrine in relation to masturbation,
the first is that the last thing I needed as a young bride would have been a partner who had spent years practicing achieving their own orgasm as fast as possible.
The second is that I have grave reservations about the appropriateness of ym/ym or young adults being asked ANY questions about their sexual behaviors in interviews. The inequality of power between an adult male church leader, and a youthful member is ripe for voyeuristic exploitation and abuse. This is a procedure likely to induce feelings of guilt, whatever the behavior (or lack there of) has been.
Human sexuality is a divinely designed thing, and should draw us closer to each other as a couple. It is a blessing in my life now, and I plan for that blessing to deepen and grow as my relationship with my husband continues to grow into the future. Teaching my children about physical intimacy (or even modesty) without introducing guilt or shame, remains an ongoing challenge.
Anthony, I know this response is really late, but people like you really amaze me. You criticize the LDS faith for things that so many other “Christians” also do, not to mention countless other religions. If you want to ask the question, “Would God’s only true church really be like this?” then I would ask that you consider the history of Christianity and religion as a whole when you ask it (the Crusades, the Inquisition, the treatment of “Christians” towards early Mormons). People like you rail against everything Mormon like it was some kid on the playground who contracted the cooties bug, all while ignoring the same behaviors/doctrines/beliefs from other so-called Christian beliefs that seem to go unnoticed next door to your anti-Mormon church.
Now my point isn’t that Mormons are perfect and that everybody else is wrong. Reality is quite the contrary. I feel that many people, regardless of faith, have much to add to each of our lives, and that to discount them simply because they have a faith that differs from ours is closed-minded and ignorant at best. My point is that a better question would be, “Which, if any of these faiths, is true?” Because if there was a God “He would prefer honest questioning over blindfolded fear.” (Thomas Jefferson)
To the others who criticize LDS beliefs and practices as stifling and sexually crippling: I think you’re missing the point and reality of what the OP was writing about. Doctrine can influence culture, but it is not synonymous.
I was a virgin when I married and my wife was a virgin as well. We had some bumps to overcome, but so does any couple who has sex for the first time whether it be inside or outside the bonds of marriage. I’d rather that my wife and I learn together about sex than with some other person. Our emotional bonds grew in ways that I never knew were possible that way. If I or my wife were to have gained sexual experience with somebody other than ourselves I believe we would have been cheated out of much of what marriage and sex have to offer a relationship.
It is entirely possible to be a virgin, get married, learn the ins and outs of sex that only experience within that marriage can provide, and have a happy fulfilling marriage because of that journey. This is a simplified version of what can/should happen, I know, but I hope you smart people can get the point.
Its like you read my mind! You appear to know a lot about this, like
you wrote the book in it or something. I think that you could do with some pics to
drive the message home a bit, but other than that, this is magnificent blog.
A great read. I’ll definitely be back.
“No woman has ever had an orgasm from sexual intercourse alone.”
So you went from one lie to another. Yes, the easy button works for most women. But vaginal orgasms do exist, and it seems this talk show was as mis-informative and biased in its supply as your well-meaning family in their omission. As a convert to the Church, I find that most LDS members go from one extreme to another, and never find a happy medium, and your story is a perfect example. It isn’t caused by the Gospel but by people’s misinterpretation and confounding culture with doctrine.
Also, I’m not suggesting you go on a quest for the big vaginal O, but I do hope that this show has not remained the only source of sexual enlightenment for you.
I’m also not sure what generation you are. I was born in the 80s and most LDS sisters I’ve met throughout the last 10 or so years in various parts of the U.S seem eager to make almost every get- together into a sex talk session. Some of it’s fun and informative but a lot of it desperate oversharing.
While I appreciate your story, I just would like to let you know that not all people in the Church have the same experience. I know many girls who grew up members who knew full well their anatomy, the nature of sexual attraction and a basic idea that sex is beautiful and pleasurable well before they started dating.
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