About two years ago, my wife and I sat in our local pub during happy hour, lamenting the dwindling days of our 30s. I was pinned down while a priest made out with me, but he never ripped my pants off. I had also recently learned that the priest who abused me was still working at a parish with a school. Anyone in the New York metropolitan area, population 20 million, might now know that I was sexually abused as a child. It was not an intended consequence, but it’s incredibly welcome ― as are my lower blood pressure and better sleeping habits.

Source: Huffington Post September 17, 2018 12:22 UTC