A group of religious sisters I know once introduced me to an old gay couple. Many of them started celibate. Eventually they moved on too. Never miss a story from Be Yourselfwhen you sign up for Medium. I imagined myself cooking a meal as my partner came home, turning and punching him in the face while Tony Bennett crooned in the background because he forgot to pick up milk on the way home. Some are small, ethnic, strip-mall pop-ups. I became just another person in the pew they enjoyed shaking hands with on Sunday.
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Forget going to hell. They close the sexual act to the gift of life. Because it strikes me that our relationship with our masculinity is much more complicated, intense and potentially troubling. Soon, I could feel, they would snap. Churches who ask celibacy of their gay members take on the assumption that while it might be difficult, with God, a celibate life is at least possible.
I watched all my friends fall in love and marry and move on. I remember staying seated as my friends walked down the aisle, my head in my hands and tears streaming down my cheeks. There had to be something better than killing myself. We are not so incapable of humanity that if we fall in love we must commit some herculean act of charity to convince God not to abandon us forever. We all have our issues, all have our sins.