I had sex at a Christian retreat centre with Jesus watching over us literally, his picture was in every room above the bed.
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I struggled with my enmeshment with this priest. From the beginning, most professionals I turned to, most Catholics, did not know what to say when I did tell. Sexual victimization exists on a spectrum; and I wonder—in my case—how much farther up the scale it would have to have gone for its primary meaning to me, these decades later, to be one of damage. Nearly twenty years later, is it over?
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The thought that there might be boys among us Father M had actually victimized—such eventualities lay beyond rumor, beyond the thinkable. Before the reception we ended up hooking up in a back room at the church and again before the reception.