notjustaboutsex

I ‘m finally sticking my head out of the parapet to breathe. The saga of my seclusion now must include my television binging, which to be fair, only happens after first doing a full day’s work of mouse chasing, online vitamin browsing and contemplation of my meal plans. By the time that is all finished, I sit down to join my family. This family is abundant, unlike my own, crazy in ways much different from family of origin, and on the whole good looking enough to captivate. What is different about this family is that they are imbalanced, one man for three wives, and for the most part, people of faith. My own father had faith, but I go in and out with my struggle. I suppose being near-sighted I have skeptical, fuzzy faith, not entirely blind.. I like wearing my glasses. And as far as being one of many wives, I’m much more interested in polyandry as practiced in Nepal…two husbands for each wife. Hmm, a series idea?

Still, I adore this show. It’s not only their obsession with an after life that is intriguing, but all the sex. Family and sex…two things I’ve been deprived of during this Covid period. So every time Bill Paxton joins one of his three wives in the marital bed, I’m alert. The wives, played by Jeanne Tripplehorn, Chloe Sevigny and Ginnifer Goodwin are delightfully cast and very different. They share the sister wife syndrome of petty jealousies and the historic problem of what happens in 3’s. There’s always one other person to gossip about with a third. It’s classic and the show is so well written, you’re never quite sure who’s going to be picked on when.

The perversity of “Big Love’s” Fundamentalist’s “prophet”, Harry Dean Stanton, really keeps the saccharine family life in check…there’s always a spider ready to come down the spout and sting.

I really enjoyed Jon Krankauer’s book Under the Banner of Heaven about the LDS and the murders within the fundamentalist, polygamist branch, FLDS. My personal experience with followers of regular Mormonism has been only positive, both on a white river raft trip and the research library in Salt Lake City. But the darker side of what can only be described as an anti-feminist convention is fascinating and has for the moment taken my mind off of this pandemic, so that my nightly dreams are haunted by characters other than Trump and Fauci.

That two of the actors share my birthday cannot be accidental. Paxton deceased way too soon at 61 and Grace Zabriskie are May 17thers and thus I feel a spiritual connection.

Am I living a soap opera fan’s existence? Call it binging, I am devoted to this fiction on a small screen. I’ve become a virtual sister wife and for the time being, they are the family with whom I’ve chosen to hunker down. No masks needed.