recollection

I had written a response to the local paper to some zealot who was convinced that pornography was destroying our youth. (I was myself fourteen at the time)
After my comment appeared in print, the zealot called me at home, and after some initial praise, she proposed that I meet a priest that she knew who was as interested in youth issues as I was.
So, with all my youthful vigour, I made an appointment.
We met.
Eventually, he got me to admit that I was gay.
He was understanding but adamant that these feelings should be accepted and never manifested.
Then he hugged me a little too long.
And he gave me a book on how to rid myself of this disorder.

I remember, it was winter.
And as I fled the priest's tiny civilian apartment, I threw the book as far as I could throw.