During my junior year, I read the book of mormon, and learned that God answered prayers. I started behaving myself to some degree. It was actually a great year. I went to Florida for a big ten bowl game, and to Europe for a school trip. I loved it. I guess I gained enough maturity to push sex stuff down the list of Joe's most important things in life. Had a great summer job, started doing a lot of weight-lifting and got into shape to some degree. Senior year had some fun moments, but nothing amazing. Had a girlfriend off and on who was a neat girl. Prom and all that stuff, typical high school moments.
I did pretty well on college type tests, and applied to a liberal arts college a few hours from home, and to BYU. Got in to both, and chose the college. Somehow, I just wasn't ready to go off to BYU. The next 2 years were among the best of my life. I had a lot of great friends, guys and girls, and lived in the dorms. I loved it. Fun times, but for me not really wild times. Had a girlfriend (different one) in each of those years who tempted me sorely, but I pretty much behaved myself. One relationship ended because I was too pushy. The other because I ended it.
I had gotten baptized in high school, which was a beautiful kind of experience. I had my first church calling in college, teaching in primary, which I liked. No singles ward, technically just a regular branch. My fascination with the male physique hadn't really ended, and I was reminded of that every morning in the group shower. Sort of a room with shower heads around 3 walls. I pretty much knew what every guy in my hall looked like top to bottom. But it just wasn't my focus. Women were. During the 2nd year, I decided to leave and go on a mission. I got called to a stateside spanish speaking mission. That process was pretty exciting. Leaving that school was a really hard moment. Sometimes I wish I hadn't. But then--that's the course my life took. I wanted to go. Since I had been a good boy since my baptism, my SGA wasn't an issue. In fact, I never really thought of it as an issue, or ever told anyone about it.
The MTC was the real beginning. Lines of Elder's getting hair and clothing checked, getting assigned to a district of missionaries who were together 24/7. Sitting in a tiny classroom all the time, working on the Espanol. Dealing with an Elder who really wanted to leave in the group. Memorable moments--getting interrogated by the "branch president" on worthiness, having to shower with the rest of the guys at a "pole" shower. one big pole (pipe) and 4 shower heads sticking out of it. So, you are standing there with three people sort of facing you. Kind of uncomfortable, no matter how you look at it.
I vividly remember one evening where we were stuck in a big meeting with thousands of other missionaries listening to the talk I guess you could call "exploring your unworthiness." They were pushing to make us as guilty as possible for all past sins, and get us to confess before we headed to the field. I actually felt it was excessive, and judging from all the tears and uncomfortable looks on faces--I think it was.
Most of my mission went pretty smooth. I had one companion two times who I had a tough time getting along with. He had an ego, and I seemed adept at bruising it. There was a lot of joy in moments of teaching people, seeing them take the leap and get baptized. Ugly old apartments, moldy showers and cockroaches. Somehow, living with guys never bothered me. It maybe solved things for me. I had automatic male friends who I was really close to. I never felt "attracted" to 99% of them. One of them had a big effect on me. He was athletic, in shape, and a friend. The kind of guy you'd want your sister to marry. One P-day he was outside getting some sun with his shirt off and I took a picture. I look back now, and know that I had a crush on him.
I had one location I couldn't stand, and had a couple experiences there I could hardly deal with. One fellow who was 35, single, kind of lonely admitted to me that he was gay--in tears. I felt so awful for him, like his life had no purpose. Looking back, I was so wrong in that thinking--but his sadness was tangible. In the same area, a teenage boy admitted to me he was addicted to masturbation and I had to convince him to go to the bishop. Uugh.
When I went home at the end, I had changed in some ways. My ego had been beaten into check, and I wasn't as comfortable around women as I had been before. All my friends from college were finished and on to new adventures. I had decided to give BYU a try....
I did pretty well on college type tests, and applied to a liberal arts college a few hours from home, and to BYU. Got in to both, and chose the college. Somehow, I just wasn't ready to go off to BYU. The next 2 years were among the best of my life. I had a lot of great friends, guys and girls, and lived in the dorms. I loved it. Fun times, but for me not really wild times. Had a girlfriend (different one) in each of those years who tempted me sorely, but I pretty much behaved myself. One relationship ended because I was too pushy. The other because I ended it.
I had gotten baptized in high school, which was a beautiful kind of experience. I had my first church calling in college, teaching in primary, which I liked. No singles ward, technically just a regular branch. My fascination with the male physique hadn't really ended, and I was reminded of that every morning in the group shower. Sort of a room with shower heads around 3 walls. I pretty much knew what every guy in my hall looked like top to bottom. But it just wasn't my focus. Women were. During the 2nd year, I decided to leave and go on a mission. I got called to a stateside spanish speaking mission. That process was pretty exciting. Leaving that school was a really hard moment. Sometimes I wish I hadn't. But then--that's the course my life took. I wanted to go. Since I had been a good boy since my baptism, my SGA wasn't an issue. In fact, I never really thought of it as an issue, or ever told anyone about it.
The MTC was the real beginning. Lines of Elder's getting hair and clothing checked, getting assigned to a district of missionaries who were together 24/7. Sitting in a tiny classroom all the time, working on the Espanol. Dealing with an Elder who really wanted to leave in the group. Memorable moments--getting interrogated by the "branch president" on worthiness, having to shower with the rest of the guys at a "pole" shower. one big pole (pipe) and 4 shower heads sticking out of it. So, you are standing there with three people sort of facing you. Kind of uncomfortable, no matter how you look at it.
I vividly remember one evening where we were stuck in a big meeting with thousands of other missionaries listening to the talk I guess you could call "exploring your unworthiness." They were pushing to make us as guilty as possible for all past sins, and get us to confess before we headed to the field. I actually felt it was excessive, and judging from all the tears and uncomfortable looks on faces--I think it was.
Most of my mission went pretty smooth. I had one companion two times who I had a tough time getting along with. He had an ego, and I seemed adept at bruising it. There was a lot of joy in moments of teaching people, seeing them take the leap and get baptized. Ugly old apartments, moldy showers and cockroaches. Somehow, living with guys never bothered me. It maybe solved things for me. I had automatic male friends who I was really close to. I never felt "attracted" to 99% of them. One of them had a big effect on me. He was athletic, in shape, and a friend. The kind of guy you'd want your sister to marry. One P-day he was outside getting some sun with his shirt off and I took a picture. I look back now, and know that I had a crush on him.
I had one location I couldn't stand, and had a couple experiences there I could hardly deal with. One fellow who was 35, single, kind of lonely admitted to me that he was gay--in tears. I felt so awful for him, like his life had no purpose. Looking back, I was so wrong in that thinking--but his sadness was tangible. In the same area, a teenage boy admitted to me he was addicted to masturbation and I had to convince him to go to the bishop. Uugh.
When I went home at the end, I had changed in some ways. My ego had been beaten into check, and I wasn't as comfortable around women as I had been before. All my friends from college were finished and on to new adventures. I had decided to give BYU a try....
I love your story and I look forward to reading more.
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