Rule #1 of Atheist Club

I’m not gonna lie to you, I’m gonna lie.
I was the perfect child growing up.
Honesty is a virtue.
In my many phases, I attracted a fair amount of negative attention.
Actually, it was more like a year-long, annual monsoon.
First, I was an outspoken atheist.
Like most atheists at begin, I was arrogant, narcissistic and pompous.
YOU ARE ALL STUPID FOR BELIEVING IN GOD AND I AM SUPERIOR AND ENLIGHTENED
Rule #1 of Atheist Club: Be open-minded.
Where I spent my highschool years, this was nothing short of scandalous. Almost everyone was traditional and religious, and while my initial reasons for disbelief were honest and questioning, it soon became an attention-seeking avenue.
I realised, however, that theists often have the same arrogance that atheists do. This was learned the hard way, when I got a mXit invite from what could have easily been my future husband.
I COULD LOVE YOU, B@DBOY69
Oh, yeah, that’s where I was at.
I accept. He messages.
“Watkyn”
“Hey”
Grammar and punctuation weren’t always important to me. I could tune like the best of them, bra. Don’ dala.
Park Rynie and Umzinto have their own brand of slang. It’s not a word or two. It’s a whole language. You raak?
“Hw u?”
“Good u?”
“K”
IT WAS LOVE
Until he came back after getting DC and sent another message.
“Wat r u”
Human. Brown. Female. Pubescent. Many things.
Bad Boy the 69th was asking about religion.
“Atheist. U?”
“Christian.”
A pause.
“u r the child of satan!”
I was completely taken aback. I was not expecting him to have met my mom.
This was humbling, and just after getting out of other phases of Satanism and being gothic, not at all unexpected.
Confrontation and insults were not uncommon.
These among others were childish, attention-seeking devices. Boy, I’d near done them all.
NO, I DID NOT KILL CATS OR SACRIFICE BABIES
I did summon demons though.
Kidding.
In trying so hard to be different, I was completely typical.
Yeah, I was SO into rock and metal. Rock is life!
At 16, this was Muse.
Forgive me, James Hetfield.
I refused to listen to anything on the radio. No, how very contemporary and unrefined. House? No, I don’t have one. Alternative? To what? RnB? You’re missing 23 letters, pal.
All it really is to be different is to be yourself, Individual.
Some of my beliefs, too, were misguided.
For one, I rejected the idea of marriage.
How naïve would someone have to be to make such a commitment?
Yeah, my mom’s a single parent. After 13 unmarried years, Father still left. Her only marriage, prior to meeting my dad, failed too. My family is stained by divorce and separation. Father set a horrible example, having had 5 divorces. A sixth is probably inevitable.
Why even bother?
Just last week, I stood elbow deep in sink, away in the soothing trance I tend to get into when I clean. How very housewife-like of me, I thought. I’d maybe make a great wife someday.
So, I turn around, looking at the lounge. My husband could be sprawled on that couch. He could be reading a magazine, or playing with our kid. I could be so happy, comfortable and in love. I can start my own family. My own unit.
I want that.
Why had I disregarded the idea?
Because I didn’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did. I want to provide a life without such pain.
All this time, it meant not getting married.
Now it means doing it right. Being the example.
Why should my experiences be tainted by that of others?
I must make my own mistakes, or at least be wise enough to make the right decisions so that I don’t.
So, now that I’m all pro marriage…
“Do you…”
Lola coyly moves her raven hair from her face to behind her ears, revealing an innocent, honest gaze.
“…have life insurance?”
I AM SO MARRIAGE MATERIAL
Marriage usually means kids. Recently, I began to fear I’d never have any.
Can you image little Lolas?
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Karma. Cause-effect.
I sincerely hope Newton was a madman, Karma doesn’t exist, and that cause has no effect, because there isn’t a doubt in the world that my kids are going to be monsters.
MONSTERS
Oh, man. Please let them be boys.
Anyway, I have proven to be that patient that gets all the strange side-effects nobody bothers to read about on those little pamphlets under THE DRUGS in their little boxes. Nothing like diarrhoea or constipstion, no.
LOLA’S BODY WILL NOT BE SO KIND
So, instead I’ll suddenly have a blue tongue from the flu, or body-wide itching from bronchitis, and extra limbs from just breathing.
This time, my uterus feels neglected.
“I HATE MEDS TOO. NOTICE ME.”
In what I’m absolutely not sure is supposed to be concern, Brother pipes up.
“You know, I know someone whose mom had to get their uterus removed when it became problematic.”
I know this person too.
“At least she had kids first.”
Then it struck me.
BOYFRIEND BETTER GET TO WORK
You should have seen poor Boyfriend’s face.
Worth every side effect simultaneously.
I’m all right now.
So is Tyler.

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