I will never forget coming home from a dinner party at one of the residence halls of Harvard, where we lived and worked at the time, knowing that I had to tell Catherine the truth about my enmeshment in pornography. Telling the searing truth about my foolishness was a brutal contrast to the urbane conversation earlier in the evening. But as painful as it was, it was one of the most enduringly fruitful moments of my life. Her dismay and her forgiveness were the two essential ingredients in freeing me from my enslavement to porn’s unreality—probably because it is only the combination of dismay
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