Work Text:
Nobody ever warned me about men.
Ever since I was a boy -- at home, in church, in parochial school -- I've heard all manner of warnings about women.
At that young age, of course, the reasons behind such warnings were shrouded in mystery. It was enough that they had been issued from on high; obedience to authority was supposed to be unquestioning.
"No, dear, you may not stay overnight at Mary's house. It's inappropriate."
The warnings gained more definition as I grew older, at a time when whispered conversations among male friends would commingle fact with fiction in an enticing fantasia.
"Young man, you will have my daughter back here by nine o'clock. Not a minute past."
Of course, when I decided to attend the seminary, the warnings took on a whole new level of significance.
Quid mihi et tibi, mulier? What has a woman to do with a priest? According to the rules of my faith, as little as possible. As I progressed toward ordination, I was admonished in a thousand ways, both subtle and direct, to avoid propinquity and unnecessary familiarity with women. The overarching lesson was that any man, no matter how pure his heart or his intentions, could fall victim to feminine guile -- and therefore must be on constant guard against it.
Since entering the priesthood, it is true that I've experienced on occasion the sort of temptation about which I'd been so often warned. An intelligent or charming or beautiful woman can still inspire thoughts that necessitate an extra round or two of Hail Marys. But I've never seriously considered breaking my vows...
...for a woman.
As I watch you sleep, and gently brush aside a lock of dark hair that has veiled your eyes, there is but one thought in my head...
Why didn't anybody warn me?