He likes to massage parish priests. “Four-five thousand for a two-hour ‘massage’. And it was all from a tray.”

– A dozen or so years ago, two men came to my office. One was thirty, the other sixty. It turned out that one of them was a bishop, and the younger one was an ordinary priest.

I must admit that the very fact of this strange couple’s visit to the office of Andrzej Gryżewski, co-author of the legendary “The Art of Penis Handling” and also a successful psychotherapist, seemed amazing to me.

“Oh, Mother of God, you have a bishop!” I blurted out.

– The bishop had erectile dysfunction. You know, the stem doesn’t curtsy, the branch doesn’t burn. That’s an important element, because he was active in the relationship. The priest, on the other hand, had the young waiter syndrome.

– Young waiter syndrome?

– It was about premature ejaculation.

– Well, what does a young waiter have to do with it?

– You know, he’s the kind of person who spills before he delivers.

– Are you kidding…

He was outraged.

– We worked for several years and I think I helped them.

I admit that this story left me speechless. And it really doesn’t matter which bishop it is. But having the faces of Polish bishops before my eyes and their dull and boring sermons in my ears, I couldn’t imagine that some of them use the help of sexologists. That they lead such a responsible erotic life that they use therapy. And yet! So things aren’t so bad with our episcopate.

– Well, you know – Gryżewski continues – when we finished the therapy, something tempted me and I said: “Gentlemen, what are you even talking about sex from the pulpit? It’s impossible to listen to it.” And what did I hear? That sex is slippery, dirty and suspicious – Gryżewski smiles.

– Well, but what does this have to do with burning branches and waiters who don’t bring anything?

– So I got some of it out of them. The bishop replied something like this: “My friend and I are in love, and our parishioners are scoundrels. They just want to f**k each other!”

This story looked quite promising, but when it came down to it, it ended as usual.

– The church is a swamp. Here, a gay is chasing a gay. They got all these jobs through bed – I hear from a well-known journalist who, at some point in his life, during the Polish pontificate, met quite intensively with the church establishment in the Eternal City. He cares very much about anonymity. He calls me just before the book is published, so that God forbid I sell it. – Because they are ruthless people – he explains, apologizing for calling. – You don’t even know how much they can do. Already in the seminary, a gay person senses what he likes and places a demand for a given seminarian. And he gets it. There are 100% gay presbyteries, cureries where everyone, literally everyone, from the bishop to the bootblack, is of the rainbow.

“Even the sisters who serve them?” I blurt out unintentionally.

– Don’t joke.

Interestingly, he is a devout Catholic. So when he told me about a cardinal known, especially in Poland, who, before reaching the very top of the church hierarchy, was detained by the Italian police in connection with his participation in orgies with male prostitutes, I asked:

– So what did you do with it?

– What did the others do? – he answers my question with a question.

– What did the pope do?

– This pope?

– This one exactly.

And although this is a story about Polish rectories and bishops’ palaces, it seems appropriate to start with that. Well, with the Vatican. Richard Sipe, an American Benedictine who died some time ago and studied the percentage of gays in cassocks, claims that at least two of the last four popes were gay. According to Frédéric Martel, who makes similar assumptions about the orientation of the last popes in “Sodoma”, about eighty percent of the clergy in the papal state are homosexuals. He was supposed to have been told this by, among others, Francesco Lepore, a former priest who observed this environment during several decades spent in the Vatican, where he entered into homosexual relationships and many priests flirted with him.

There is no other gay country like the Vatican. Bah! There is no other place like this in the world. The Vatican is not only the world capital of the Church, but – in some sense – also the capital of gays. Many priests claim that not only do all roads lead to Rome, but in fact the trails of many priests’ careers lead to the Vatican. Well, the Vatican is becoming civilized under Francis’ leadership. And it is interesting that progress is brought by the first pope in a long time, about whose heterosexuality no one has any doubts. His predecessors, if Martel is to be believed, have mined this holy place with gays to such an extent that it is impossible to eradicate them.

The situation is different in Poland. Our Catholic country is a pre-conciliar bunker. The Polish Church remembers the Second Vatican Council as a memento showing the betrayal of Christ, which was to take place at the highest levels of power. A large number of clergy are dissatisfied with the modernization of their institutions by equalizing the status of clergy with the people of God, which is symbolically expressed by the fact that priests have stopped celebrating mass with their backs to the faithful. During the conversations I had for this book, I found out that in our country there is no other workplace as gay and at the same time homophobic as curies and rectories. How is it that priests are able to combine fire and water, or live in such lies? After all, our celebrity exorcists from the Vistula River, popular commentators under the collar whom we know from the Internet and TV, and finally the super-homophobic bishops are all gays. Is it any wonder that the topic of orientation arouses so many emotions in this environment? Because these are not ordinary emotions. Sometimes it’s downright obsession.

– Could you be passive? – asks the guy from the ad in the video I saw.

– I don’t know. I mean, I don’t rule it out – the priest replies in a tone as if the very thought of it hurts him, but he doesn’t want to lose this relationship. – I’ll think about it. But not today.

– Well, I would prefer… But if so… – the interlocutor presses him.

– Calm down – explains the priest. – Let’s start with the eagle, and then we’ll see.

For the purposes of this book, I meet with several sex workers (they did not agree to give their names). Two of them gave me some rather interesting information. They operate throughout Poland. One is tall, bleached brown, the other – a non-Pole – stocky, dark-haired. Jet-black. I hear that priests recommend them to each other, that they fall in love, that they are honest and do not haggle.

– And this is important – they explain to me. – People today, when they drink and get high, can be terrible.

It is from them that I learn that the case in Dąbrowa Górnicza is not an exception, and that there have been such events before in which a certain bishop took part. That it is not only younger priests who engage in chemsex. Interestingly, it is the younger ones who provide mephedrone and methamphetamine for the meetings. The elders are organized. They don’t need much. A little tenderness, kisses.

– They are hungry for touch. – The blond smiles. – Sometimes a shared bath is enough. Everything, counting running the water and rinsing, takes about two quarters of an hour. And they got what they wanted.

– One I know – I think he’s a prelate in their nomenclature – is brutal. When he cums, he likes to beat his partner with his fists. It’s a part of the agreement, and he pays extra for it.

Some people recommend fasting the day before intercourse and taking care of hygiene, especially those who are active in a one-night relationship.

– What are they like? – I’m asking.

– Normal – I hear from the blond. – A bit like married people who suddenly discover they are different.

– At first they are very distrustful – adds the brunette – but once they feel safe, they will give you many customers.

This one guy showed me some photos. He asked if they were my clients. I guess he wanted to have something on them. I said that even if they were, I wouldn’t give them up. That way he has a guarantee that I won’t give him up either.

– And any strange situations?

– Do I know? – the brunette wonders. – I used to have special requests. I met with this priest. One day he asked if he could rent a room and pay extra, I would meet with his friend who doesn’t speak Polish. And it happened a few times. A guy my father’s age came, I f*cked him and he left. Then I saw him on TV, not the liberal one, but the PiS one. He was a popular commentator.

– And I once had an alarm. – The blond smiles.

“Alarm?” I ask.

– No alarm – he confirms. – I once visited someone who ran a museum next to the basilica. Once he cummed, he fell asleep. He got really drunk. I was bored and decided to go out. Well, he set the alarms. And when I wanted to leave, everything started screaming. I woke him up and told him to disarm the alarm, but he was unconscious. So I left. And when I got out, security arrived after a while.

– How did it end?

– Normally. He resented me for leaving him, but only for a moment. We still meet today.

I will probably not be original if I say that my parents’ generation – I was born in 1974 – does not imagine such stories.

I get a lot of information for the book from a masseur whose regular clients include priests. He does not specialize in their use. They just like to visit him. There are several dozen of them. I bombard him with questions about stakes, preferences, characters.

“Let’s start with what they’re paying for,” he interrupts me. – Appearance is also important. To meet expectations, I tried to keep my body fat level as low as possible. This always translated into earnings, which was an additional factor motivating people to take care of their figure. Paradoxically, most of these clients were unkempt and obese themselves, and they pointed out the smallest imperfections to us. My standard day looked like this: I always got up between four and five in the morning. I drank yerba and while it was still dark, I went for a ten-kilometer jog. I ran every other day. On days without jogging, I would go to the basement in the morning to exercise. We couldn’t take steroids because they cause a blockage – potency decreases during a steroid cycle. In order for everything to return to normal, you need to unblock yourself, i.e. take appropriate measures. Viagra, contrary to popular belief, also does not work in the long run. We usually used testosterone boosters and brewed panax ginseng.

He admits that he likes to massage parish priests.

– They leave the most from these trays. The fact that they pay in low denominations, i.e. ten, twenty, or at most fifty zlotys, does not mean that they pay little. If you encourage such a priest well during the massage, at the end he will be able to take out such an amount of money for you from that suitcase that it would make my week!, one might say. I gave massages for which I received thousands. And always from parish priests. Four thousand, five thousand for a two-hour massage. And it was all on a tray.

Presbytery promotional materials – Prószyński and Co.