Spill the Veritaserum

I met a guy who questioned my faith.

It started with me being more intentional with my Bumble swiping, taking into account the whole profile as opposed to just the photos, and it got me contemplating the qualities that would make me swipe right.

I can tell you one thing: I always swipe left on Catholic guys.

As a Catholic myself who has watched my mother, godmother and aunts devote themselves to their families in the name of religion, I never wanted to fall into the same trap. The trap of losing one’s self for the sake of keeping a front of having the perfect Catholic family.

But as time passed, I met some other Catholics along the way who shared similar sentiments and I thought, there should be some men out there who are of the same wavelength. And so I began to swipe right on Catholic boys again.

And I met this guy. Let’s call him Conservative Catholic, CC for short. CC was different because there was a comfortable familiarity, especially since the opening line was “Are you Uncle Gomez daughter?” Barring the typo on “Gomes”, this was someone who knew my dad and matching with a few days before his death anniversary felt like a sign of sorts.

I came to learn that dad and CC’s dad were longtime friends. I remember this man in our house when I was 5 or 6, measuring the walls of the kitchen in our new home to install cabinets. I also remember him being around growing up as dad’s friend, and I also knew that they had a falling out before he died.

In true gentlemanly fashion, this guy welcomed conversations about dad, which helped with my grief that was at an all time high. And it was nice talking about dad to an almost stranger. But at the same time, it came with an undertone of discomfort I couldn’t quite put my finger on. 

“It could just be the discomfort of calm and peace,” I thought, because I’ve always known chaos, passion and excitement when it comes to dating. This was slow, calm and not forced. But I couldn’t shake away that undercurrent of anxiety.

***

At this juncture, perhaps I should explain my stance on Catholicism. As a child, I was raised to be the model Catholic — fasting during lent, knowing the 10 Commandments by heart and in order, believing that prayer was the only thing that stood between me and my destiny, which consisted of either becoming a nun or marrying a good, Catholic man. 

This continued well into my teens. I was very active in the church’s Alpha Course and told anyone who would listen that this was the path to renewing one’s faith in God and in return, salvation will be written in their books.

And while most of the time I preached of God’s word on blind faith, it was during the weekend away for the Alpha Course where I witnessed my first personal miracle. 

When I was 4, I was diagnosed with psoriasis. It covered 80% of my body and it flared up every time I was stressed. It was uncomfortable as a child to feel the itchiness and discomfort, but as a teen, it was a reminder that I wasn’t the same as everyone else and had to try harder to get people to look at me.

That, coupled with being on the chubbier side, dating was a nightmare. But, I was lucky to have met and dated some sweet boys who loved me for me. While I was never complimented for being beautiful, I “had beautiful features,” as one of them said.

But when I was 18, during my first year of college, we went for the Alpha Course’s weekend away and during the charismatic prayer session, in the depths of my heart I prayed for God to take away my psoriasis. That I may start this new phase of life fresh and new, without the physical struggles of my childhood. And so I will not have to endure the shame and ridicule I experienced from my peers growing up.

I remember praying, swaying, immense heat encompassing my body, my knees buckling and eventually, sitting down on the floor, gasping for air. 

We were asked to share our experiences in our respective teams later on, but I chose not to because it seemed superficial. I chose to pray for my vanity over the men, women and children who were suffering across the world, waiting for basic survival necessities. I felt like a fraud. I felt very un-christian. Very un-Catholic.

But within a month, the psoriasis that used to encompass 80% of my body was reduced to only 10%, tucked away in hidden areas that no one would even notice. Taking into account the fact that I was in college and in the company of likeminded people who saw and accepted me for who I am, it can be argued that the societal pressure was a stress that was significantly reduced and thus, facilitated its cure.

But I choose to believe that God heard my prayers that day and granted it. The day I realised how clear my skin was also the day I told myself to trust that God will show me the way and bring the right people to me and some day, the right man to marry too. I just needed to trust Him. And I just needed to look for a good, Catholic man.

But God decided to show me life instead. 

Still somewhat pious, I made a conscious decision to only consider exploring sex once I reached the age of 21. This was also to make sure that I was an “adult” before I made any decisions and if anything were to happen, I would be responsible for myself.

And I had a guy best friend (let’s call him AK) that I’d known since I was 13. We grew up in the same kind of environment, always pressured to be the perfect student in school, to be a model Catholic and to someday, marry a Catholic partner. But we always felt like our potential far outweighed the box we were trying to be shoved into by our parents.

I went away to study in the UK when I was 20, coming home twice a year for end-of-term and Christmas breaks. And it was during these short trips home that I found comfort in this friend, who grounded me in my Catholic faith while the makings of the western world challenged everything I knew.

We were both seeing other people (or rather, I was pining over someone else) and we shared our troubles over tipsy whisky and beer sessions. And one night, one vulnerable night, after having a few too many drinks, I found myself crying into his chest, asking him what was wrong with me for no one to see me for who I am. To love me for who I am.

It was that night that AK told me he loved me. I thought he meant it as a brother but he said his soul recognised mine. Devoid of anything romantic up till that point, I lapped it all up. It also felt so nice to be finally seen. Except I didn’t know that it was a clever disguise for him to take advantage of a silly little virgin girl, a quest to add to his deflowering trophies.

We kissed, made out and continued in his car. He tried to touch me but I stopped him. We’d talked about me wanting to “get it over and done with” but I still wanted it to be meaningful.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked.

“I do… but it doesn’t feel right.”

This was when the coercion happened. I say coercion because he knew me so well that he used our history, our trauma bonding and our Catholic faith to form the foundation of comfort and familiarity.

As soon as I conceded, he drove us to a motel in Kota Damansara, got us an RM50 room and we did the deed. And what was meant to be an important night for me changed the way I viewed relationships and my body completely. I guess in the grand scheme of things, it was still an important night for character development.

Because despite countless times of telling him to not finish in me, he did anyway and I was so scared it would result in a child out of wedlock. It wasn’t the responsibility of the child that scared me, it was the “What would people think?” thoughts that was crippling. More importantly, what would the church think of me. The onus was always on the mother, not the father. And although I am someone who is pro-choice, I know that I wouldn’t be able to terminate the pregnancy, having been a child of adoption myself.

But thank God for good friends who showed me the morning after pill and alleviated all my worries the next few weeks.

He? He was sweet to me at first but the post-nut clarity was brutal. He said that he admired my body since we were young and wanted to know how it felt. He said while it was a good relief for him, it wasn’t the best he’d had and that I should practice more to “get better at doing sex”.

But the thing that hurt the most was upon returning to the UK, he told me that he couldn’t be with me and when I kept asking why, he blurted, “You’re only good for your body, there’s nothing else worthwhile about you.”

That broke me. “Was it true?” I thought. And I believed it was true because AK wasn’t just someone I considered a confidant, he was also a man of God and a man of God would not lie to me like that. But alas, they can, and he did. And this was the first step I took in distancing myself from Catholic men, and by extension, the Catholic faith altogether.

***

But back to the present day story at hand — CC was different. While he seemed rooted in the rigidity that came with Catholic indoctrination, he seemed harmless. And besides, our fathers were friends and I figured we would make good friends too.

There were no red flags, at first. He listened to me and pointed out things about myself which made me a tad bit uncomfortable because people don’t usually notice things, like how I chew on my inner lip when I’m thinking or twirl my hair when I’m waiting for a gap in a conversation to pounce in with enthusiastic thoughts.

“I see you also have a bit of a childlike, playful side huh,” he said at one point, after I told him a story about my childhood and let out a cutesy pout.

“Oh, yeah I guess I kinda do. Sorry I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Nothing to be sorry. It’s cute. I like that your inner child is coming out.” That made me smile because Little Nessie wanted to have a safe space to roam too and he brought that out for a little while.

In between conversations about love and life, we had some pretty interesting chats about the stances of the Catholic Church that was ingrained in us since we were baptised as babies. It was one that was left open, with no real certainty, because the world is not as rigid as the Catholic faith.

“Maybe I was right to trust my instincts and to try dating Catholic men again,” I thought.

There were many other instances where he saw me for who I was. I didn’t need to filter my words of dumb myself down to accommodate to him. And in between some pretty serious conversations, he would subtly compliment me. Perhaps he thought I didn’t notice, but I did. And the little girl in that hotel room thought perhaps this was proof that not all Catholic men are the same. I was slowly healing and didn’t realise it.

It was going well for a few days. He asked me out and I was excited. But something still didn’t settle under the surface.

We had more conversations about the religion, one that was also grounded in certainty — the path to marriage and abstinence until that day comes. The latter, for some reason, sounded the alarm.

It was a question of whether I had put too much importance on my sexual prowess or whether it is just who I am. Am I a sinner for enjoying lustful pleasures? Or am I a mere mortal, and is that forgivable?

Following the logic of Jesus’ crucifixion, I have already been absolved of all the sins that I have committed and about to commit. And is it really a sin if lust is coupled with love, albeit before marriage? Where is the line drawn in this case? And does that make me a bad Catholic? It’s something I’m still pondering till this very moment.

But what tipped me over was CC’s stance on homosexuality. As with most conservative Christians, homosexuality is a topic that is highly debated, not just from a religious standpoint, but a moral one. 

From a religious standpoint, it’s pretty simple: according to the Catholic theology of sexuality, all sexual acts must be open to procreation by nature and express the symbolism of male-female complementarity. Sexual acts between two members of the same sex cannot meet these standards.

By this logic, a homosexual relationship is okay, as long as the pair does not engage in intercourse as it is for pleasure and not procreation. The key is one’s intent and taking that into account, casual sex among heterosexual pairs are a sin too. And yes, I do realise that I am a sinner.

But from a moral ground, what power does any religion have to dictate who we love and are attracted to? At the end of the day, it is believed that God created us. And God is the one who knows our entire life and destiny. Hence, can it be argued that love among the same sex is, therefore, created and orchestrated by Him?

It could also be argued that it is a test from God. Perhaps if one is not meant to procreate, they are meant to devote themselves to Holy Orders. But then let’s not forget the slew of sexual abuse cases that have come to light involving Catholic priests and boys and men.

Again, I digress. But this is the level of religious introspection CC invoked in me. And with that, I set off on a quest of deep understanding of what being a Catholic means to me. And to be very frank, the only reason I choose to believe that God exists (and have since returned to the church) is because I am not ready to accept that my father’s soul has not been absolved from his earthly sins. I refuse to accept that when he died, that was the end of him.

And more importantly, I need to believe that one day I will get to see him again. And I will get to hug him, feel his prickly moustache on my cheeks and experience his warmth again. To hear him tell me he loves me, like he did every living day of his life until he died. And anything that proves the contrary doesn’t make sense to me now.

But this alone cannot be the foundation of my faith. On a deeper level, I thank God every day for the people he has placed in my life to support, love and guide me every day since I lost my dad. Including my best friend, who is a loud and proud gay man. He has shown me the most amount of love anyone ever has (except maybe my own family) and that is something I cannot ignore. And I believe God led them to me for this very reason.

And while I may not agree to the rigid teachings of the Catholic Church that I had grown up with, I believe it is okay to still be a Catholic and do my best in being the best possible human for as long as I roam this earth.

As for CC, I finally figured out the unsettling feeling I had. He was reminiscent of AK, because he too did not agree that the concept of homosexuality was real. While CC was nothing like AK, the few nuances were enough for my nervous system to go into hyperdrive.

While, to a certain extent, he was healing the wound and trauma created by AK, I followed my gut and ended things when CC homophobic sentiments reached an unforgivable level. It was evident that he was rooted in the narrow minded teachings of the church and not the exploration of the world.

There was a point where I also felt like I was being shoved into a box of what he thought I could be — a good Catholic wife to procreate and build a family with. While those are my aspirations, I definitely do not form the definition of a good Catholic girl and funnily, not out of rebellion, but out of love and understanding of the world (and people) around me.

It has been said many times that people with a deep understanding of the world are incapable of being religious. I have always refuted this but perhaps, there is some validity in this turn of phrase. I guess, only time will tell.

And while I really wanted to experience what it would be like to go on the path of being a good Catholic girl that I envisioned as a child, I would not forgive myself if I ended up loving a man who couldn’t accept some of the most important people in my life. Including me.