Confidential to the Man with the Sign

Confidential to the Man with the “Sex is Bad” Sign,

If nothing else, I can’t help but admire your steadfast diligence.  There is no doubting your absolute commitment to your petition.  Every time I have ever been to the trolley turnaround at Powell Street station you have been there, dressed in a fine suit, with your sign.  The sign too is an expression of your commitment.  While I have never taken the time to read the packed lines in full, I get the gist.  Every square inch of its large surface is covered in letters that appear to be constructed carefully out of electrical tape.  “SEX” is written largest, I can tell that much, followed by what appears to be key phrases about heathens and abortion and homosexuals taken out of context from scripture.

The Girlfriend and I stopped by you, thronged by tourists, waiting for the light to change.  We were holding hands, or maybe clutching arms I forget, like we always do, but like you’re supposed to do especially when crossing the street.  It’s a safety measure.

You looked at us directly and spoke.  I hate to paraphrase you because you have obviously spent so much time calculating words for brevity and impact.  You said something to the effect that Sex Outside Of Wedlock Is Filthy Sin And Homosexual Sex Is Pretty Much The Worst Kind Ever.

Your message, my friend in the Lord, is effective. I do not profess to know your motivation exactly.  You offer your words, both written and verbal, with such cutting precision that the only hoped for outcome is reaction.

To quantify this reaction, let us perform a small calculation.  To sway the results in your favor we’ll be modest in our sums.  Let’s say that I go to the Powell station once a week.  While I was taking ice skating lessons this was true, plus I venture downtown from time to time to get my eyebrows done or buy cheaply made clothing intended for tween girls.  Every time, without fail, I have seen you.  Let’s conservatively (no pun intended) put your weekly toil at eight hours a week.  I know this is far from the truth and the exact figure is probably much higher.  Now let’s guess how many faces pass you by.  This is a very well populated part of town and you seem to hold your post during peek commuting hours.  I’m terrible at this kind of guessing but again let’s use conservative figures.  Let’s say that 25 people were around during the thirty seconds we shared the sidewalk.  Multiply that to the minute, and then to the hour, I think a safe estimate would be nearly 24 thousand people for eight hours.  You spoke to me exactly but your words stand prominent, silently, on your sign for all to see. 

Out of those thousands of people, not including those you speak unsolicited to, how many approach you to hear your message and find the salvation you purportedly offer?  That is your goal, I presume.  To offer salvation.  That the heathens strolling by will exchange their blasphemous ways for purity and light.

Even if only one soul saved would validate your toils?  How many are you ostracizing and further pushing from hearing your message?

When you spoke to me, your overarching goal of inciting a reaction was met.  I reacted.  In hindsight, and for the purpose my letter, I apologize.  My reaction was to grab The Girlfriend in my tightest embrace and kiss her with ferocity and void of shame.  As the light turned and we stepped into the curb you commented something about how Oral Sex Is Included And Just As Bad.  I replied over my shoulder that That Was Too Bad Because It Is Pretty Much My Favorite.

I apologize for this:  I reacted in a way that did not confirm my truth that stands as solidly as yours.  In my relationship with The Girlfriend we pray for each other, and in pursuit to find and live wholly in God’s will.  Our idea of God might be different than yours but we believe, together and independently, in the multifaceted nature of our Creator and trust this Being to protect and guide us.  We believe, again together and independently, that our Creator extends beyond human gender and has bound our paths in It’s glory.  By kissing her so fervently I was not responding to your message as a being of this God, but merely as a reaction to your particular, and I believe, incorrect, judgment on what two (or more) people do together naked.  By focusing on my personal and sexual life I only managed to focus on your message that Homosexual Sex Is All About Desire And Is Meaningless.  I know this because the guys behind us started hollering. 

I admire your efforts, or rather, I admire your risk.  You risk exposure to the elements and having your message misconstrued, while being pretty much guaranteed to antagonize just about everybody.  Your methodology, not to mention your ideology, is wrong and I believe ignorance is a risk too. 

However you don’t see me standing on any corners with a sign, despite the fact that I believe just as adamantly as you do in your opposing view.  Part of this is because the infrastructure of my stance is that it is none of my business how consenting adults responsibly fuck.  I’m sure I’m underestimating your delusion.  If I wasn’t I’d be willing to wager that part of this risk you take is that people will take your message in the opposite way you intend, as I did.

This letter ends on a confession that would be wrong not to mention.  All your talk of God and sex was inspiring.  I prayed right then as a matter of fact.  I thanked your God for being so full of love that I could have some for the girl’s hand I was holding, for being a present reminder even via ass-backwards taped signs, and for compassion.  I prayed for you, that you might not be so full of hate and fear.  And I thanked this very God who you say thinks I’m a heathen, for the opportunity to go home and take The Girlfriend’s pants off.

Amen.