Mormons Attack

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Okay, not really. I actually just sat on my couch next to a nicely dressed boy and he asked me questions.

Has anyone ever attempted to convert you? It’s kind of like someone is hitting on your soul.

I was in my living room reading A Brave New World and waiting for Girls Night to start when my newest roommate came home with her boyfriend and his brother. “My home teachers are coming, just so you know.” She warned. (Home teachers=male members of the ward that are assigned to a family unit. They come over once a monthish and teach a lesson/see if you need anything.)

Okay. I kept reading. When the home teachers arrived in their Sunday dress clothes I ignored them, but they didn’t ignore me.

“And what’s your name? Are you in the ward too?” one of them tuned to me.

I admitted that I wasn’t a member. There was an immediate shift. He was drooling at me like my soul was in a wet T-shirt contest. “Oh, really? Well you’re welcome to listen as we share our message.”

“I’m reading, but I might you know, eavesdrop a little bit.” And went back to my book.

At this point all 6 of us were sitting comfy cozy on the couch. My new friend sat right next to me.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“San Diego.”

“Really? What part?”

“East county.”

“Which city?”

“El Cajon.”

“Ohh, okay.” he said, as though we were now blood brother-sister, “I’m from Murrieta.”

Then he asked if I’d been to church at all and told me how we’d have to fix that, and have I spoken to the missionaries yet?

He wasn’t anything fanatical or anything, but he was even pushier at the end when he stood in my doorway, promising to be back so we could “hang out.”

“It’s not an option.” he said.

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