Much more often than it should, religion mingles with sexuality in odd manners. I'm not challenging the good will of believers who back in my life tried to heal my abominational sexual drive — though not directed towards them. The first time I recall someone trying to put all his skills into remaking me heterosexual it must have been in the early 90s when I was working part time as editor for some sort of Islamic monthly magazine. The imam proposed explicitly "a very successful therapy based in electroshocks" which I didn't hesitate to kindly refuse. Some years later, for reasons not pertaining to this story, I was more or less introduced into the Nigerian community in Madrid when one of them, a Pentecostalist pastor, thought that it was time to save a soul for Jesus.
By that time, my attitude towards mild fundamentalistic faiths had slightly changed, proven that dialogue wouldn't work to let me alone, I had aleady assumed that the best apporach was to dress myself into a militant atheist custom, but that wouldn't work with Nigerian pentecostalists either. I was to be saved, whether I wanted it or not. After five days of being shadowed by the pastor in question every time I was to be working at any of the many Nigerian owned internet cafes in the southern area of Madrid, I confessed my discomfort to a close friend. This good brother dropped my sexual behavior to the pastor, who became horrified. His efforts had to be doubled at least, if Jesus was to gain a sinner for his reign.
I managed to stay away from system maintenance for some days but I couldn't avoid it forever, and some given Saturday evening there happened to be a failure in a computer. I was called, and of course the pastor was there, couldn't have happened otherwise. Tony was there too, and the drama was perceptibly approaching. I started to fix the computer while the pastor started his invokations to the Holy Ghost to descend upon me and heal all my sins. I was guaranteed to marry a nice girl and have half dozen kids after that evening. Yuck!
When I finished with the system maintenance, the religious job was still not done. Probably I drew a bit of negative influence upon me by having a couple of beers and joking with other people around while the guy entered his final round of jaculatories, but I had no idea yet about how to get rid of such elements. Eventually, with a final delivery of powerful faithful energy, I was done the complete process of rebirth in Christ and transform into a happy heterosexual man. The pastor approached, proud of God's work.
And then I kissed him, mouth to mouth. Probably he didn't enjoy, I didn't put much passion on that. My friend Tony dropped to the floor in laughs, and he wasn't the only one. I never was tried to be saved again, up to this day.