I was twelve, I think. I had a pair of sunglasses and the little screw was coming out that held the arm on. I needed those tiny screwdrivers that are only good for glasses repair and I knew my dad had a pair. So, I went looking. My dad wasn’t home, that I remember, but his briefcase was and I knew that was the place that he kept them.
The briefcase was in the hall next to our front door. It was a black briefcase with one main compartment and two thinner side pockets. I went rummaging through the main compartment looking for the little clear plastic holder that held the small screwdriver and the cool magnifying glass. I didn’t find it, but I did manage to find a very glossy magazine, Playboy
My dad was/is a strong Christian. He was a trustee, a deacon, an elder. He was a good dad. He took us camping, he came to every soccer game, we went on bike trips. When I found his magazine, I was ashamed. Not of him, but of myself. I felt alone. I didn’t know who to talk to and so I didn’t.
The addiction slowly sunk its teeth in. I would look through my dads briefcase whenever I could to see what was new. Every time I found something the feeling of anger at my self grew, as did the addiction.
I told no one about my secret, not my dad, my mom, my brothers, or even a friend. I was from a good Christian home and it felt like if anyone found out the truth that it would break the image that we had all built. Everyone at church would comment to us about how good our parents were and my parents would get comments about how great their boys were. I had to keep my dirty little secret, secret.
I managed to keep my secret for a long time. I remember thinking that my addiction to pornography would vanish once I got married and had someone to be intimate with (I was a “good Christian” and hadn’t had sex before marriage), but it didn’t and so I kept my secret until I was 31 years old when it all came crashing down….