That incident Andrew Sullivan mentions
reminds me of one of the worst meals of my life. About 10 years ago, I was
eating at a restaurant in Adams Morgan with four female friends, all
Democrats. We’d been hanging out having a great time all morning. Then one
of them asked me if I was Catholic. Yes, I said. “Are you pro-life?” she
asked. Yes, I said, but let’s not talk about that now. That was the last
word I got in. Three of the women began to harangue me, and it quickly got
so loud people started to stare. One of the young women, a mousy sort who
had been quiet, started to quiver and cry. “What’s wrong?” one of the women
asked her, and she looked at me and said, in complete seriousness, “I’m
afraid of him.” Mind you, I’d hardly got a word in at all! I stomped
out of the restaurant, and that was the end of those friendships, save one,
from a housemate I really liked, and who apologized for things getting out
of hand — but in so doing, blamed me for provoking them to anger by my
obnoxious beliefs.