It must have been late December 2006. I was in the formal discernment process with hopes of pursuing a call to the priesthood. A required discernment class was the first step. Not only was the class on Saturday mornings, the class was sporadically scheduled. Saturdays are difficult for me to give up (which may say something about what I need(ed) to sacrifice) and Fridays were the customary party nights. I was at a large local bar with a number of friends and it was getting late; Friday was becoming Saturday and I had class in the morning. There were so many reasons not to go to class, but the primary reason was enough: I certainly didn’t need to hear anymore meaningless words about a spirituality that was not worth fighting for. There were enough reasons to stay, but the primary reason was enough: the redhead was interested (or at least that was what I was told). My friend handed me a shot. I looked at it and thought to myself as I raised the glass to my lips, “I guess I’m not going to be a priest”.