The Human Paranoia Virus

I was raised Catholic. I have since become a homosexual. Heaven help me.



It took me a long time to realize I was gay. When I fell in love for the first time, the overwhelming positive emotions that came with The Big L anesthetized me from any inherent Catholic guilt that should have swallowed me up. Perhaps my first girlfriend would argue this point, citing my daily anxiety attacks and tendency to burst into hives when she entered a room as evidence for her case; but I think that had more to do with my fear of being labeled a “lesbian” and lumped in with a group I knew nothing about before I even had a chance to sort out my feelings.

Amazingly, the part of my Catholic education that has stuck with me throughout is that “God is love,” and “Love is good.” Therefore, what I experienced with my first girlfriend was good…and perhaps brought me closer to God? I think that’s right. All I knew was something so pure, so beautiful, was in no way a ticket to hell. I knew that Gay was not wrong because it was my way into Love. And God is love, so maybe Gay was my way into God. Holy Shit!

HOWEVER…

Catholicism still plagues me when it comes to my sex-life. I never bought into the whole “sex only for procreation” thing; but I was totally sold on the whole “sex is the most intimate expression of love one can experience” thing... Um, I HIGLY advise against this way of thinking—unless you’re fortunate enough to fall in love young and stay with that person a very long time. Or maybe it could work if you have a really low sex-drive.

I once loved a woman so much I thought I’d burst. She felt like the grout that held my tile-job together (how’s that for a lezzie simile?). However, we did not connect physically. What’s a Catholic girl to do? Well, fortunately, she was an angry drunk, and one night, she punched me. The love wore off shortly thereafter.

I’ve also found myself in bed with women I don’t love at all. And right now, even in the clear-headed head-space I am writing from, I feel terrible for making that statement. But if I fell in love with every damn girl I was sexually attracted to, my “love” wouldn’t be worth much, now would it? That’s not to say I sleep with every girl I’m attracted to, but, y’know, a few?

Herein lies the main problem.

In my twisted, Catholic, guilt-ridden world of too-much emphasis on sex, what happens when the love and the sex don’t align? What happens when you continue to do something you know isn’t “right?” When you’re not in the Big L, but you continue sleeping with someone? I’ll tell you what’s supposed to happen: STD’s.

I do realize this officially makes me insane, but in my f-ed up psyche, my punishment for carrying on a sexual affair without the love-piece sealing us together, SHOULD be some sort of horrible genital infection. I made myself absolutely nauseous with fear and self-reproach until I finally broke down and went to the doctor.

It would appear as though there is nothing PHYSICALLY wrong with me, but she did recommend a good shrink and a meditation class to help with my issues of anxiety. I told her I didn’t need therapy because I blog weekly and when I really need to talk, I do stand-up. She then wrote something on my chart and walked out of the office. It would appear as though I have HPV—but not THAT kind.

The Human Paranoia Virus: common in recovering Catholics with active sex-drives.
Symptoms: anxiety, guilt, depression, confusion, delirium.
Cure: Expressing one’s anxieties to a friend and/or doctor and having them look at you like you’re bat-shit crazy. Also, maybe a standard blood-test from your OBGYN. And maybe therapy. And maybe blogging.