I’m dating this new guy and he’s always talking about church. I’m not against it but I’m not exactly Christian either. Have you ever dated a religious man? I want a good man but I don’t want his religion getting in the way of our romance.
—Losing My Religion
Dear Losing My Religion,
It was an impropriety imperceptible to me at the time. My search for love took me to church without leaving the house. Sin and syntax integrated in text messages, as a bead of sweat seeped from my forehead. After two missed connections, we finally connected like an ad on Craigslist.
We actually met on Grindr, my go-to app for like minded gay guys looking to text or have sex based on your proximity. This streamlined process took the bars and beer out of the mating dance. David worked as a Jr. Delegate for the U.N. General Assembly. Oh, the things I was willing to do to find my inner world peace.
He had a full-time job, which made him a great candidate. Before him, I had the predilection of meeting unemployed guys with nothing to offer but high sex drives. I contemplated having casual sex will someone I liked. We both agreed, that it didn’t have to be a seedy session, but a love-making moment with no strings attached. Talk about diplomacy.
From the U.N. to intercourse, faking emotions with someone you don’t know can be satisfying in the moment. What happens when that moment becomes a memory?
One shot and an outfit selection later, I hopped out of the shower in a Hennessy haze. I met him at the door dressed in black. He was tall and dark, like his photo. “I’ve been here before,” he said. “Do you know John?”
I did. John was a roommate of mine for a few months until he jilted us without a 30-day-notice or his share of the rent. He sang in the church choir—and at home—struggling through hymns that I heard through the wall. They never shared a bed, but a church bench.
While mid-coital, his phone rang. He reached over my head and answered it. There was a surgery emergency with a church member, causing the need for an impromptu prayer. David administered scripture while draped in the protection of a condom. It’s amazing how he could turn his church accent on and off. We committed a half-dozen sins. Getting down on my knees this night took on a new meaning.
I fellated a man of the cloth and didn’t even know it. He sermonized on Sundays as the church’s pastor. This was the closest I had been to a religious breakthrough in the empire city. Thoughts turned to Bishop Eddie Long stuffed in spandex like a pack of hot dogs. May he rest in peace. I tripped, pulling down my leather pants to receive the gospel according to David.
I wondered if he had a wife. He said he didn’t. Yet, I considered what it would be like to be in her shoes. I imagined her to be like the one on Greenleaf, donning chic two-piece suits with matching shoes. Oh, the secret lives and well-kept wives.
Gay pastors were as ubiquitous as food stamps. Could our premarital sex lead to gay marriage?
He hoisted up his jeans and headed towards the door. “Let me hurry up and get to the hospital so I can head back,” he said. I never heard from him again. And like that, the pastor became my past. I couldn’t have anything serious with a dude so devout. All we could offer each other was sex.
The next day, I deleted his number. And I pray to never have that happen to me again.
But that’s not to say that the same thing will happened to you.
Make sure to also checkout previous Love Walter columns here
Got a question? Email your letters at [email protected] His advice column will appear on Wednesday.