Good Vibrations Magazine

Virgins, 72 of them, black eyed. That’s the promise. Martyr yourself for Islam and they await you in heaven.

But come on, what kind of a promise is that? Virgins, 72 no less, all clenched fists and closed eyes? No, no, no. If I’m going to invest in the system, if I’m going to hand over my life for the promise of future reward, I want choice.

72 you say?

I’d like 25 sluts, no, not sluts, promiscuous women. They don’t need to have slept with hundreds of people but they’ve been out in the world. They’ve acquired knowledge. They’ve learned how to move their hips, not use their teeth, and get themselves off. I want them to be able to teach me things. It’s always good to be a student.

Next I’d like 15 recovering Catholics. Though this may sound like blasphemy to a devout Muslim I highly recommend it. There’s nothing like a woman finally entertaining all the sexual thoughts and urges she used to repress. Nothing like a woman running full-speed to crash through her taboos. Nothing like a woman proving she is no longer constrained. And nothing beats her proving it on you every night.

3 librarians. It’s my own thing. The A-line skirt, blouse, pencil through her hair, stacks of books. Well, stacks of books to bend her over. “No, no,” she cries. Then shushes herself. Her eyes fall on a copy of Lady Chatterly’s Lover. She releases, becomes wild with abandon, Skirt goes up, pencil falls and I shush her.

7 porn stars. When embarking on any journey it is always preferable to have a few professionals along. It’s not just for me. It’s for the other ladies, stories to be told, tips to be shared, and someone is going to have to lead the workshops. That’s the worst part about heaven, there are still all these workshops going on: How To Be an Authentic Angel, Tips For Handling Your Mother for Eternity, The God Voice: Silent Non-Violent but Still Hurtful Communication.

But we could shake things up a bit with my porn stars: How To Make That High-Pitched Anime Squeal, How To Strap-On, Flexibility 101. That’s a heaven I’d like to be in.

For those of you counting that brings us to 50.

I think I’d like 10 sweetie pies. Sweetie Pies are those women who like to go on picnics with gingham blankets. The kind that when you’re under a tree and you put your hand up their skirt, push it away. Sweetie Pies are the women who think they shouldn’t, but they do.

5 virgins. Yes, virgins have their place. It is not something to be particularly prized but if I fancy the role of student I also like to take on the role of teacher now and then. To be the one who knows what’s going on in bed can be a fun experience. To shepherd another into the world of sex, to make it a good thing, a soft thing, to help them look forward to more; that is an experience I enjoy.

Now these women can come in all shapes and sizes. I’d also like them to be from all over the world, though I might put in a special request for Argentineans.

I know, the bean counters out there are saying I’ve only specified 65. That is because I want to make a deal with god. I am willing to give up my last seven in exchange for the ability to turn myself back into a virgin. On any given night I can wipe clean my memory and make it my first time.

F. Scott Fitzgerald once put it this way, and I am paraphrasing here. The matron longs to return to the time before she was married. But she is mistaken. What she wants is to relive her wedding night. I do not want my innocence back. I want the pleasure of losing it again. That would be heavenly.

And there you have it, my counter-offer to 72 black-eyed virgins: 25 sluts, 15 recovering Catholics, 3 librarians, 7 porn stars, 10 sweetie pies, 5 virgins, and the ability to relive losing my virginity. If one or two of them could have borderline personality disorder that would be excellent. Borderlines survive by intuiting what you want and giving it to you. It makes them amazing partners in bed. God help you everywhere else.

Now, even if offered all this, I would still not martyr myself. First of all, as my mother often told me, nobody likes a martyr. And secondly, I’m white and live in California, why would I possibly want to martyr myself? The real question is why would 72 virgins be an incentive for young Muslim men to strap on explosives, walk into cafes and detonate themselves?

There are academics that argue that the promise of virgins is a misreading. They say the word in question, houri, has a different meaning is Syriac, a dialect of Aramaic. In Syriac the word means white raisin. In fact, young men are being offered 72 white raisins, a delicacy way back when. This might very well be true but let’s be honest, who’s going to blow themselves up for 72 white raisins? If you’re going to blow yourself up it’s going to be for pussy. But why virgins?

I can hear the argument that virgins are pure, that they are holy, and that for an act of Jihad, holy war, one is given a holy reward. But young men are young men and the promise of holy just doesn’t cut it. There’s something about those virgins they’re finding attractive.

Before I go any further I must say I know no one is martyring themselves simply for the virgins. But I believe that much can be gleaned from this promise, even if it’s only metaphorical.

Innocent and pure is one way to look at virgins. But here’s another. They are disempowered, lacking in knowledge, lacking in experience. For two generations of Arab men who have been humiliated by the West, heaven is 72 women who don’t know any better, it’s 72 women who don’t know much of anything. Disempowered men wish to disempower their women. Nothing else is specified about these women. They are simply virgins. Are they virgins in thought as well? The promise of 72 virgins is the promise that women will remain silent.

How much better to fill heaven with a variety of women; better still to give women their choice of 72 men or women to fill their heaven with. And best to take all of this out of heaven and simply say, “Here we are.”

If you look at my counter offer you will see it is filled with sexually empowered women or women in the process of taking ownership of them selves. They are women with voices, even when they’re shushing you. When that is a man’s heaven a culture thrives.

My wish for the Arab world is that one-day a young man will not be asked to martyr himself. Instead he will be offered heaven on earth. He will ask how this is possible. He will be told, listen to your women.

72 virgins? No.

25 sluts, 15 recovering Catholics, 3 librarians, 7 porn stars, 10 sweetie pies, 5 virgins, and the ability to relive losing my virginity. One or two Argentinean borderlines would be excellent, too.