Bless me Father, for I have sinned....

So my priest has died. The guy that I took Confession with. For those of you who may not know, my priest and I have--had, I guess I have to use the past tense now--a very interesting relationship. As a good Catholic, I experience feelings of guilt all the time: some of them legitimate, some of them just me being paranoid. My priest had a great time helping me distinguish between the two. In honor of my dearly departed friend (and really, the last person who really knew the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about me), I thought I would recreate my most memorable afternoon in the Confessional (hopefully this is not the memory he took of me when he meets St. Peter in heaven).

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned, it has been several months since my last confession."
"And what is it that you have to confess?"
Long pause.
"I went to a bar."
"I think I've told you before, it is not a sin to go to a bar."
(whisper) "It was a gay bar."
"I'm sorry, you'll have to speak up."
(little louder) "It was a gay bar."
Pause.
"Well, there really is no sin there, either, unless you were there to find yourself a...."
"No, no, no, no, no, I'm not gay!"
"Well, once again, I see no sin there, unless you overindulged in alcohol."
Pause.
"Well, Father, by now you have to know that that is going to come up every time I'm in here."
Chuckle.
"Okay, so your weekly penance for drunkenness...."
"That's not all, Father."
"Go on then."
Long Pause.
(whisper) "I made out with a boy."
"What?"
"I. made. out. with. a. boy."
"Jessica, I've told you this before, making out with a boy is not a sin, either. It is the other activities that lead you down the path to sin...."
"There's more."
Pause.
"Well?"
Uber Long Pause, then--
(barely audible) "I touched him."
"I'm sorry?"
(still quiet, mumbled) "I touched him."
"Pardon me, I still can't hear you."
(Shout that echoes off the marble pillars of the church) "I TOUCHED HIM!"
Embarrassed silence on both ends.
"I assume you mean in a sexual manner--"
"Yes, Father. And I more than touched him. It was more like groping--"
Long drawn out clearing of the throat. "I think I get the idea."
Pause.
"So?"
"I really want you to think about what you did, and think about whether that is moment you would be proud of or shamed by, and use that as a guidepost for further actions."
"Yes, Father."
Get up to leave.
"And the standard Hail Marys for your usual antics."
"Yes Father."
Cell phone rings. "God damn it!"
Pause.
"Well, I guess you can just add that to my confession for the week."
"Ten more Hail Marys for the Lords name in vain."
"Yes Father."
Ten minutes later, kneeling in a pew saying my prayers.
"Hail Mary, Full of Grace, the Lord is with thee, Blessed art thou among women--"
"Dear God, is that a hickey on your neck??"
(audible sigh) "Damn it."

I'm going to miss you, Father.