Takin It Back, Tuesdays #4

The Mormon

I googled Jews in hell...
and Rachel Berry popped up.
I love her.

In honor of it being Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year to all the goyim), I decided to write about the first time I realized religion might matter in a relationship. Oddly, The Mormon is the one boyfriend I had that everyone remembers. My family treated him like their own, my friends all met him, and even my family in Chicago remembers "that one guy with the tongue ring." Yes, he was a Mormon with a Metallica tattoo and a tongue ring. I was 19; don't judge me. He worked at Dave & Busters...what do you expect? Note: he still works there, I think. Dodged a bullet!

I'm gonna go right ahead and say that The Mormon didn't come from a family with a strong moral background like I'd always imagined in Mormonism. His mother was an adult convert...after leaving the Hell's Angels. She HATED me because I am Jewish. And because she knew I had a tattoo (two at the time). You can't even imagine how much this would shock me. I mean, I'm a parent's dream girlfriend for their son! It was a constant battle with The Mormon, because he never believed she had it out for me.

One day after The Mormon's mother "treated" him, his twin brother, and me to a Del Taco dinner, she asked me a very strange question.

MM (Mormon Mom): "Are you nervous?"

Me: "...about what?"

MM: "Going to hell when you die."

Me: "Well actually, Jews don't believe in hell. So it's all good!" No that was just in my head. What I really said was, "Umm..what?"

Geez I really hated her. And you know what? Her son wasn't exactly the perfect Mormon role model. He had a tattoo she didn't know about (but he never defended mine). And he definitely didn't follow the whole, 'no sex before marriage thing.' Every time I pass that big ass Mormon temple on Santa Monica Boulevard, I think of how bizarre that relationship was. Where are the nice Jewish boys at??

Happy New Year!