On this high holy day of thank-yous, I figured you can’t thank someone more important than God. Yeah, I mean, thanks to the pilgrims and Indians for the whole Thanksgiving thing, but this year, even though I’m not what you’d call a religious person, I wanted to thank God because despite some really awful things happening, we have a healthy little baby and the love of our family and friends. All joking aside, we are very lucky.
The last time I sent a direct message to God was before my friend’s wedding this summer when the priest invited the wedding party to go to confession. I went, but it was annoying because instead of just letting us confess our sins the usual way, like, kind of in a stream of consciousness, the priest asked us pointed questions. This was frustrating because I really had specific things I wanted to get off my chest.
This is how it went:
“Have you lied?” Yes, of course.
“Have you had impure thoughts?” Oh yeah.
“Have you stolen?” Yes, if wireless counts.
“Have you gone to church?” Oh hell no.
“Have you had premarital sex?” This one confused me because I wasn’t sure if he meant now or when I was a teenager. I said no because any sex I have is marital and I figured there is a statute of limitations on anything bad I did over five years ago. He gave me a look like, “Sure, lady.”
And then the kicker:
“Have you masturbated?” Uh, seriously? An old guy asking this? Ew.
So instead of being happy I got all my sins off my chest, I just kept thinking how perverted the priest was. (I asked the other bridesmaids and he blindsided everyone with that little doozy by the way, so at least his creepiness wasn’t just reserved for me).