I spent my childhood getting more erections than I knew what to do with. When I was a small boy, I had no clue whether this inexplicable stiffness was normal or not, and for that reason I was ashamed of it. I’ve often considered blaming my shame on Catholicism, but I don’t remember anyone at church teaching me to feel one way or the other about a stiff penis. What I remember from church is the smell of incense, the backs of old people’s heads, the glossy brown pews, the rewarding thinness of the missal’s pages, beautiful songs sung by below-average singers, and my erection tucked underneath my waistband.