The Ick

So when did Christianity first give me "the ick?" And why am I such a hater that if I hear you say something about- "our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ," I start to cringe inwardly? I can probably track the exact moment, if I squint hard enough. As I mentioned before, Catholicism was always a struggle for me, and they were the original Christians. But Catholics aren't "Christians," if you catch my drift. Not the weird ones. Not the ones who made me pray around the flag pole my sophomore year of high school. Let me set that scene for you. I was innocently trying to make my way to my 0-hour typing class, (at the very UNgodly hour of 7am,) when I was accosted.

"Hey Colleen! HEY! Stand here with us. Something really cool is about to happen." (Observe how they wouldn't just TELL me what was going to happen, they had to spring it on me, like a trap. It was giving Hun-trying-to-sneak-a-pyramid-scheme-past-me-energy.)

I 100% would've blown them off, too, and told them I had to get to class (cuz what cool thing could possibly be happening around a flag pole at 7am?) BUT they had weaponized my crush against me. This was my first gay crush (he was gay, not me) in a series of five, truly debilitating gay crushes that would carry on throughout my college career. (Obviously another topic for another blog post.) The first, (and definitely the most obvious.) However, as a sixteen year old in the 90s, he was neither out, nor had I yet to develop my razor sharp "gay-dar' which was going to need a LOT of honing apparently, but after all that I've been through, trust me, it is now finely HONED.