Fort Worth, Texas, has become the epicenter of a sexual revolution among American housewives. "Passion Parties" are cropping up like herpes outbreaks, and like the incurable virus I don't suspect they'll be going away any time soon.
Today's Fort Worth Star Telegram carries a story about Joanne Webb, who is under criminal indictment and will soon be facing trial for opening up her home for a $60,000 a year business of peddling potions, lotions, trinkets and doo-dads which promise to kick up the average couple's sex life Emeril style.
I don't suppose there is anything inherently wrong with chocolate frosting, fluffy cuffs, zappers, zingers or zippy-zerts; but I am concerned about groups of women getting together to snicker and jabber about their marital (or non-marital) intimacies. And surely there is nothing criminal about it. And I'm sure their husbands (boyfriends) appreciate the extra special attention being paid to make the bedroom spin with a little more than candles and Barry White, but a pornographic pyramid scheme is just unsettling to me.
What you do in your love chamber is your business (within biblical parameters, of course...even then, I'm not sure I want to hear about it)...and it should be fun. But silly women gathering in coital conclaves to discuss their sexual appetites among friends, buying and trading sex like it was a tupperware dish or a Mary Kay lip liner is just wrong. And apparantly these parties are being marketed especially for the most sexually repressed among us, evangelical housewives. At least Promise Keepers never marketed a line of love stuff for purchase in the accountability groups the movement spawned.