Thursday, July 8, 2010

Losing His Religion

It was a Sunday, I had gone to church, enjoyed the service, took in the word, and headed out to meet friends for brunch when I saw him. He was walking down the opposite stairwell, but I spotted him immediately as did he me. Once out on the street, he approached me, asked if I enjoyed the service, how long I'd been attending. I recognized him from being one of the ushers, one whom I'd tried quite diligently to keep my eyes off of while actually in church. He introduced himself as "Rev." We parted ways, stating that we'd see each other next Sunday and off I went.

The following Sunday, Rev found me on the sidewalk after church and asked if I had brunch plans. Oddly, my plans involved rushing home to walk my dog and get on top of a very put off deadline. The dog and deadline could wait, though. Rev was baby jesus cute, so I accepted and we set off to Toast on the UWS. The conversation was seamless, he was equal parts kind and funny, had enough charm to make it into heaven, and just the right amount of intellect-ie he didn't spout off political propaganda like it was his last supper (it was an election year). In a nutshell, we had a great time and decided to see each other again the next Sunday and eventually the other days too.

There was one thing about Rev. A thing that me feel incredibly heathenistic because my desires weren't nearly as easy to ignore. Rev was celibate. Fine, no prob, Bob. At least that's what I told myself and I did everything I could to abstain right along with him. I liked him a lot and it wasn't like he was asking me to do crystal meth in the middle of the FDR at rush hour. He was asking me to do better in the name of my faith. And he was barely asking me to do that, in fact, it became increasingly clear that Rev wanted to leave his abstinence on the back burner altogether.

I told him I supported his quest, told him it wasn't a problem, joked that my vibrator had titanium batteries. In other words, I'd be fine. But as our cuddles on the couch turned to rolly pollies on the floor and headed closer and closer to the bedroom, I knew we had to have a serious talk. I didn't want to be the reason for his celibacy sabbatical, but he assured me it was okay. That he wanted to be intimate with me.

Looking back, I shouldn't have taken on that responsibility, I didn't really feel solid about it anyway, but one night, when my libido took over like a fallen angel, we went all the way like two teenagers losing their virginity's. And somewhere between ooh and ahh, Rev started to cry. No, not a single tear while he looked into my eyes and declared his love for me (which would've been really lame), but ferocious tears. Tears for fears tears. He was hysterical and I was all the way freaked out. We stopped, of course, and I asked if he was okay, had someone miraculously sprayed bullets through his seventh floor apartment window, catching Rev in the leg? Rev explained that it was just the first time breaking his vow, the next time would be better. I was not feeling it at all and it was almost another week or two before we tried again. This time, he tried pressing his face into my neck, but his muffled sobs filled the room, vibrating through my body. He tried incessantly to calm himself, told me to hold on a second and just when he started to actually chill out, he flipped, started screaming:"I can't! I can't do this! I can't do it, oh God, I can't!" And he shouted all this while still right there on top of me. I didn't know who felt worse. Between me, him, and the holy ghost, there was one too many in Rev's bedroom.

I pushed him off, jumped off the bed, and, while dressing, told him, "Actually, no. I can't do this. This is too much. It's just too much." I apologized, for what I am still unsure, and blew that popsicle stand. There's taking it to the next level and then there's taking it to a level that's beyond anything I'm able to humanly deal with. Instead, I left that to Rev and God. That relationship was way more in need than I was and way more deserving of that kind of commitment.

That bitch stole my line,

Blackie Collins


  1. aww i kinda feel bad for him! but sheesh, hysterically crying on top of you? how did you not die laughing in his face?!!

  2. Sooo this is the tale of dating a religious/preacher/church dude you reference to in a previous post (I dont remeber which post that you mention of this). Never be the first to be with a celibate person. You feel like a the full size devil off his shoulder. Another thing, he shouldnt have put himself in that type of situation if he knew he couldnt go thru with it.

    - A.D.

    Oh, the doing meth in the middle of FDR during rush hour....hiliarious!