Broken Daughters

Picking up the shattered glass of fundamentalism

Meet Mr Smith: The Imposter

2 Comments

As I mentioned in the introduction post, the first part of the book is exclusively Eric’s tale. After Leslie’s short preface, he starts his section with a chapter called “Imposter Sex”. Now, I wasn’t sure if I should dedicate an entire post to this chapter because it is both very short and very rambly, but I couldn’t think of a way to incorporate it with the following chapter, so I finally decided on an individual post.

The major reason for this is because this first chapter sets the stage for the entire tale, yet is somewhat unconnected to it.

In this first chapter, Eric described the ‘process’ and ‘reason’ for writing this book:

“Just yesterday I sat down at a Starbucks in downtown Manhatten and had a very uncomfortable three-and-a-half minute conversation with Sex.” (p. 3)

As you can see, this is very much a narrative – as the entire construction of Eric’s tale is. What strikes me in this first sentence of the book is the way he manages to incorporate and enforce common stereotypes about sex with his choice of words: “very uncomfortable” and “three-and-a-half minute”. Why is this relevant to him you ask? Well, because he doesn’t express this as a stereotype about sex in general, but about imposter sex. What follows is a several pages long (fictional) story of how Eric wrote a letter to “Sex” (an actual, living person in this narrative), asking for an interview and some rambly thoughts about the word itself. I’ll spare you the details, because he really doesn’t say much. Let’s jump to the day Eric is sitting in that Starbucks, the day of the meeting:

“Although the environment wasn’t much to sex’s liking, seeing as how I had threatened to expose his impostership, he arrived, nevertheless, with two bodyguards and a haughty smirk splattered all over his face, as if he had left the lid off the blender that morning when mixing up his daily dose of self-importance.” (p. 6)

Sex doesn’t seem so nice now, does it? Note how Eric connects Sex to self-importance here: This is a very frequent image (or connection) in the purity culture. Sex, or better, having sex, is not an expression of love, emotion, physical connection – it is merely an act of glorifying the self above anything else. This focus on self-importance vs denial of the self is a central theme in all of the Ludy’s writings, and we didn’t have to read more than 10 pages to arrive at the point where Eric points out just that – the very first thing that strikes him about “imposter-sex” is self-importance.

“I was quite surprised at his appearance. Seeing as how this guy is all about glitz and glam, I’d expect a handsome, well-formed leading man sort of fellow – you know, Tom Cruise meets Russell Crowe. However, this guy was more like a smarmy Elvis impersonator. He was almost cartoonish in his form – tall and lean, but with a blubbery beer bulge up front. Although he had a rather attractive face, his hair was greasy black and he even had a set of long sideburns a la “the King”.” (p. 6)

Bet you didn’t see that one coming! So, what I get from this description is that Sex really can’t be as hot as you would think it is. I find it fascinating that a book targeting young women for the most part would work with such descriptions. I don’t know about you, but after reading this, I can’t help but imagine a guy like this in my bedroom – and it’s not a very nice image. Clearly, the major idea is building negative associations. So, how would you react if you saw a guy like that? Stay away from him? Let’s see what the people sitting at Starbucks do:

“As Sex entered, it seemed the entire room stopped and looked. You would have thought a Greek god was humbling himself and dining among mere mortals. “He’s gorgeous!” I heard a woman whisper from somewhere behind my right shoulder. “That dude is a dude!” said a male voice near the coffee pickup counter. I thought it odd that someone so unimpressive to me was receiving such accolades from these coffee trinkers.” (p.8)

Ok, so it seems Eric is the only one in there who can see Sex for what it really is – that greasy, disgusting figure. The rest of the world – or at least a large portion of it – sees this Sex guy as someone impressive, sexy, desirable. This small section has something very patronizing about it. Eric implying that he can see the Truth (something he states a few lines later), but most others don’t. Eric has the authority to speak because he can see the world for what it really is. In what follows he has a conversation with Sex, telling him that he met his “nemesis” and experienced “his work firsthand”. This makes Sex very angry, and he leaves, telling Eric that he will never go away.

“Sex. Strangely, these three letters weren’t always smarmy, conniving, and falsely debonair. I know this may be difficult to believe, but Sex wasn’t originally coupled with strip clubs, nudie magazines, adulterous antics, and sipping rum punch in a penthouse apartment near Hollywood and Vine. In fact, there was a time when Sex was a clean-shaven gentleman, mature, dignified, bearing roses, and speaking in poetic rhymes with a hint of a British accent. There was a time when Sex worked humbly and selflessly to bring about something good, pleasurable, fun, noble, and pleasing to God.” (p. 11)

Alright, where do I start? I hate to say this, but I have a feeling that Eric hasn’t really read the bible. When was that supposed age where Sex still was the way Eric describes here? In genesis, with Noah? With Tamar? With Sodom and Gomorrah? Or maybe after Jesus died, and Christianity started to form? We have plenty historical proof that this is not true. Prostitution is one of the eldest businesses on earth. “Strip clubs” have always existed in some form.

Also note that “real sex” speaks “poetic rhymes”. I find this interesting in the light of the warrior-poet-construct. There’s another similar line, right after Eric explaining that he knows true sex because he has experienced his work:

“He doesn’t have an Elvis-like flop of hair and long side-burns, he doesn’t have a jiggling bulge around his middle, and he doesn’t swivel his hips – I’d say he’s more William Wallace meet Lord Alfred Tennyson, with a dash of Jimmy Stewart and a dripping dollop of Sidney Poitier.” (p. 12)

What’d I tell you? This is an even clearer rendition of the warrior-poet image, clearly linked to good sex (also note the twisted Braveheart-reference!). As I mentioned in the introduction post, Eric has a very specific image of what this warrior-poet is and uses the term consistently. I will go into details in another post, but I just want to point out very clearly how important he feels this image is in connection to good sex.

After some more rambling about the word sex, Eric concludes this little chapter:

“Imposter Sex thrives off ignorance. But he shrivels up and fades away when we expose him for what he really is – a shameless wannabe.” (p. 14)

So, what can I say to conclude this chapter? Honestly, I find it very difficult to sum up anything other than Eric obviously believing he knows the truth, and that “imposter sex” is gross while “real sex” is super-awesome, warrior-poet style. As I mentioned earlier, this chapter is more an introduction than anything else, but since it stands quite isolated and really doesn’t contain anything, I had to post this separately. What I can promise you is that in what follows, we will finally find out more about that warrior-poet-sex guy, and it’s going to be good. Next up: Selfishness! That’s always a good one.

2 thoughts on “Meet Mr Smith: The Imposter

  1. This just gives me rage! I was homeschooled for a couple of years, and grew up with a fundie mother, who found god when I was young, so I was quite aware of expectations of purity, and relatively sheltered until long after if left home. Since that time I’ve spent many years trying to catch up on the cultural reference points that I missed, and working out who I am and what I believe. I found your blog through Libby-Anne’s blog, and both of you have opened my eyes to some of the things that were not so great about my (generally very happy) upbringing, but how much worse it could have been!

    In this blog post, the self-importance of the narrator really struck me – he is the only one who can see through to the true and unpleasant nature of sex. It also made me feel sad, though, because presenting true love/sex as all poetry and flowers and chivalry seems to be setting young women up to be disappointed with their spouse, which is hardly going to lead to happy and respectful submission(!). While I think that intimacy, love and experience add a great deal to sex, all people are different, and it seems unfair to try to force both husband and wife into such restrictive roles and expectations of each other. Why can’t they just allow people to be truly 3-dimensional instead of trying to flatten everyone into just two dimensions so that they fit neatly between the pages of the Bible?

    I think I’m going to get a copy of this book so I can read along with you!

  2. Oy vay, “real sex” described by a fundamentalist…

    Real sex (really good sex) is two people who have a profound need to combine DNA. At the cellular level, their bodies are screaming “MUST MAKE BABY NOW!!!” and the tough part is, a lot of folks get married to people they don’t like that much. It’s especially FRUSTRATING for a woman (I estimate), because she’s stuck with a guy who likely will want sex pretty darn often.

    Not trying to break sex away from romance, but the chemicals in our brain play by far the biggest role, Mr. Ludy. You cannot choose who you are attracted to. A lot of girls would be creeped out by his “real sex” guy.

    I just can’t shake the feeling that he hasn’t, uh… actually had real sex. You know, the sweaty, heart-pounding, high-fives at the end kind of sex.

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