Poonanny play
I remember one night after we left a meeting of the survivors, Anne gave
a good summary of her feelings. “You know, Jeff, there are times I wish
I could become a nun, I wish I could live in an isolated world where sex
didn’t exist.”
“Why not marry me?” I joked.
“What?” she said, stopping me on the street and staring at me.
“Like you said at the meeting,” I said. “You said you’d always thought
that marriage was a trap to be avoided, that marriage would mean the end
of your sexuality. Wouldn’t marriage be more fun than a convent?”
She smiled at me and chuckled. “It probably would, but you’re so …”
She paused, her voice trailing off. “Damn it, you’re so straight that
I’m afraid I’d offend you.”