Rating: NNNNN
Walking down Queen West with a zillion other Catholics last Saturday, I suddenly found myself beside two butchy-looking nuns.I may never have another chance to have a one-on-one with a nun on my turf, I thought, so I turned to them.
I told them I was born and raised Catholic. Attended Catholic school for 10 years. That I am close to my family and friends and have been at their side through several tragedies. In fact, I can honestly say that I’m respected by everyone I know except the Catholic Church, because I am a lesbian.
“Do you think the Church will ever change?” I asked them. They stopped dead and cast their eyes down to the ground. One of them piped up. She said the fact that I’m lesbian should never keep me from God.
I said, “Believe me, Sister, I have a good relationship with God. It’s your Church I don’t get along with.”
She said the reason we’re here is to procreate.
Even if I were straight I wouldn’t have kids, was my comeback, so…?
She said, well, it’s really an issue of promiscuity.
Promiscuity? What are you talking about. I was in an eight-year relationship and have been single and pretty much celibate for three years. Promiscuity? It isn’t that easy to get a date in this town, Sister!
Anyway, this kind of talk went on for a bit until she asked, “Do you mind if I pray for you?”
I said no — thinking she meant later. And holy, if she didn’t grab onto me and start praying. The other nun did likewise. They both had death grips on me like they were trying to exorcise the Devil out of me. It was in no way a warm and loving hug. Their fingerprints stayed embedded in my fleshy arms for about half an hour.
I was trying to be cool about it. Then I saw my friend the oh-so-sexy and friendly bartender from the Rivoli with her eyes and mouth wide open in disbelief. I rolled my eyes, thinking, How long can this prayer take? It went on and on.
When one of the nuns finished, the other continued to pray for me — in Polish! By this time, everyone on the street, even the Catholics, were looking at me.
It all came to a merciful end eventually. They said they were happy to have met me and to have given them things to pray and think about.
I said, “Nice meeting you, too, but nothing has changed for me,” and off we all went.
Minutes later I was enjoying a cold stubby at the Q Bar in the midst of all my so-called rock-and-roll derelict friends. I’ve rarely felt so free.
Kris Abbott is a guitarist with The Pursuit of Happiness.
