You were recommended to me by
an acquaintance familiar with your column and podcast. I am a
20-year-old male, and as such have certain desires that almost all
20-year-old males have (desires of a sexual nature). However, I am
deeply religious. Religion has been for me a source of strength in my
times of weakness, a rock in the times of storm, and above all a home
to return to when I have lost my path. In the teachings of my
particular religion, to indulge the particular desires I am
experiencing will condemn me to fates too grotesque to mention. I am
rational enough to realize that there is no way that I can “pray away”
these desires. My question is this: How does one prepare for a life of
celibacy and solitude (as that is what is required of me to remain a
member of this particular faith)? Based on what my...
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...and solitude (as that is what is required of me to remain a
member of this particular faith)? Based on what my friend has told me,
I know you have little respect for religious practices and beliefs.
However, these desires are not exactly something I can talk about with
other members of my spiritual community. And while I am currently
seeking counseling related to other issues, I was wondering what a
so-called expert on sex and sexuality would have to say.
Clever Acronyms Escape Me
Get over yourself, faggot.
If it’s possible for you to act on your
unnamed-but-easily-identified desires in an ethical manner—if you
desire to do whatever it is you desire to do with consenting adults who
desire to take their turn doing it to you—this so-called expert
on sexuality thinks you should crawl down off that cross and find
yourself a boyfriend already. (“Pray away” the gay? I’m guessing you’re
Christian, probably Catholic.) And if you experience a moment’s anxiety
the first time you stick your ass in the air—pull the Jesus stick
out first!—just remind yourself that things have been crawling on
top of each other and madly humping away for 850 million years.
Sex came first, then humanity (200,000ish years ago), then religion
came along tens of thousands of years after that. Which may explain why
religion, when pitted against sex (really old) and human nature (pretty
old), always loses. Always.
If you’re on the cross, CAEM, it’s because
you put yourself up there. Which means you’re not some poor mortal
trapped between a cosmic rock and an existential hard place; you’re
just another closeted cocksucker with a martyr complex.
Look, kiddo, you get one life, one chance at
happiness. If it gives you a spiritual semi to fantasize about a God
who created you gay but forbids you to act on your emotional and sexual
attraction to men, knock your damn self out. But you can have a
boyfriend and Jesus, too—look at the pope—you just have to
do what people have been doing since the first terrified idiot invented
the first bullshit religion: improvise. Find yourself a
brand-new religion or sect, or jettison the bits of your current faith
that don’t work for you. If you know anything about the history of
Christianity—and it sounds like you don’t—then you know
that the revisions began before the body was cold. No reason to stop
And finally, CAEM, there is no God—you
do realize that, right? No hell below us, above us only sky, etc.
I’m an only child, male, born
to a single mom. I’m about to turn 21, and I’ve been with a great guy
for over a year. I may be in love. We both have steady jobs, and we
want to move in together. He came out to his parents after we started
dating, and now I think it’s my turn. Problem is, I don’t know how to
break it to my mother. She’s a tiny Mexican woman who isn’t afraid of
smacking me. I’m afraid to tell her. She always talks bad about the gay
lifestyle because she considers herself Christian, although not the
churchgoing kind. When and how do I break the news that she’s not
getting grandkids from me?
Her Only Male Offspring
Your mom is my favorite kind of “Christian.”
She’s not the “churchgoing kind,” as that would require some personal
sacrifice on her part (of her Sunday mornings, at least). And she
certainly didn’t let her faith interfere with her sex life (I’m
assuming your conception was something short of immaculate*). But when
it comes to other people’s lives, when it comes to your
sexuality and mine, HOMO, then her Christian values kick into
high gear. How convenient.
Okay, HOMO, lots of us have come out to
hostile moms and dads and watched in awe as they morphed into the
loving, supportive parents we didn’t know they were capable of being.
For some parents the process is quick, for others it’s slow, but it
can’t start until you come out.
Now here’s when you come out: The sooner the
better—but don’t come out to your mother while she has the power
to harm you, i.e., if you’re dependent on her for a place to live or if
she’s paying for your education. And here’s how: by U.S. mail. Don’t
give your mother the chance to smack you. Write her a letter, include
the contact info for the PFLAG chapter in your area, and tell her
you’ll discuss this with her after she attends a meeting, not
Finally, when I came out to my mother, the
first thing out of her mouth was, “I don’t ever want to meet any
boyfriends.” She said the word “boyfriend” like it had been
dipped in shit. On her deathbed, my mother told me to tell my boyfriend
that she loved him (“like a daughter”). My mom came around, HOMO, and
so can yours. But not until you tell her.
My husband and I got married
recently. His first pick for best man was his older brother, “St.
Paul,” a seminary student studying to become a priest. When my husband
asked, he started crying and said he had hoped my husband would return
to the church. We are both liberal ex-Catholics. For a wedding gift,
Paul gave us a book called Man and Woman He Created Them: A Theology of
the Body, 700 pages of dogma by JP2. In the five years I’ve known him,
he has rarely said more than one sentence to me, yet he speaks boldly
in favor of the church’s most conservative doctrines at family
gatherings. How much of his bullshit do I have to deal with? I’m a huge
fan of yours, and I know that you’ve had some issues reconciling your
own life with loved ones within the Catholic Church. Your advice would
Man… so intolerant.
I’m talking about you, TS, not your
brother-in-law. Don’t get me wrong: Your brother-in-law sounds like
total douchedrizzle. But he has a right to his opinions and a right to
express them. You have a right to your opinions, too, of course, and
just as much a right to express them. When St. Paul goes off on
premarital sex or the ordination of women or the gays and their Prada
loafers, smile and tell him he’s full of shit. You don’t see him too
often, right? Tolerate his bullshit—that’s what family
does—and count your blessings.
And don’t complain about every word that
comes out of his mouth and then gripe about how little he has to
say to you.
* Note to Bill Donohue: Yes, I’ve confused
the virgin birth with the Immaculate Conception. So sue me,