I dated a Catholic boy once, just for a few months in the late 80s. He was more honest than most I had dated as yet in my young life in that he told me, flat out and from the beginning, that he didn’t love me. Which is cool, because I didn’t particularly love him either. Sure, I convinced myself I felt something, but like nearly all my partners at the time (and some would say even now), he was convenient, good in bed, and paid for dinner.
A persistent issue with us was that when we had sex, he hated that I called it “fucking.” Nevermind that we were, indeed, fucking.
He, insistent and upset: “We make LOVE.”
Me, the smiling devil’s advocate: “But you don’t love me, so how can we be making love?”
He had no response and, to this day, I think that question eventually wore him down and caused the break up. His main reason for dumping me, however, was that I was a naughty girl; you know, the stereotypical, banal, mundane Catholic boy’s madonna/whore complex. I was good enough to play with and good enough to fuck, but not marriage material. Good girls don’t suck cock on living room couches. Good girls don’t say “fuck me harder” at the crest of an orgasm. Good girls don’t make bets on the Superbowl for a steak dinner and public sex.
I never have - and will never be - a good girl. He knew that, too, which is why he was clear about his intentions from the start. I just don’t think he was prepared for the lack of guilt I felt, a guilt which probably wracked his soul each time we “made love.”
Anywho, I got to thinking about him today and his last name - which I thought I had completely forgotten - popped into my head. So you just know I had to hit Google, right? Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t bother, but I’ve spent 15 years not having a clue about this guy’s full name and then POOF!, a cobweb falls off the right place in my brain spontaneously … ?
Seriously, you can’t ignore that kind of sign.
Turns out he is now a securities broker with a major company in California, but here’s what got me:
[Name removed for obvious reasons] is past board chair of the American Red Cross [location removed], cubmaster for Cub Scout Pack [pack number removed] and a youth soccer coach. He and his wife [yep, that’s removed too] have five children and are foster parents.
Five children and foster kids? Yikes. Pre-marital sex notwithstanding, some Catholic boys do grow up to be hard-working, family-oriented, upstanding Catholic men. Then again, those were exactly the types of men I saw regularly when I was a professional Dominatrix, so maybe I shouldn’t assume anything here. He certainly enjoyed our time together way back when and it’s this very fact that has had me wondering all day:
Am I in his spank bank?
Catholics aren’t supposed to do that, either.
