An Atheist On Love, Minding Your Business And How I Know The Anti-Gays Don’t Get Any
It’s Hump Day, so let’s talk about humping! Definitely one of my favourite topics, how about you?
On a hetero scale of 1 to 349, I’m about a 1000. I loves me a manly man. The hairier, the better. If you’ve got a moustache, a beard and can think, you’re probably already in my spank bank. Add a hammer or a set of drums and I’d be in love. You know, if I weren’t already hitched. Luckily I have a man with a built-in fur sweater and about 17 sets of drums, but the point is, I am what they like to call straight and it’s never been in question.
This, of course, is not fucking important at all, and none of your goddamned business (#NoHoly). So why did I bring it up, then?
Because as a rock-solid (teehee) and unwavering ally to the LGBTQ+ community, I don’t see why they are the only ones who should have to announce who they like to fuck like it’s a wedding toast.
In 6th grade, I met my bestie. As the new kid, she stood at the front of the class in a miniskirt her mother had picked out for her, visibly uncomfortable. Looking at her, I recognized in her the same feeling I had when I was wearing ridiculous get-ups like that. It was like an extreme longing for a pair of jeans and some Converse. I immediately knew we would be friends.
Over the next decade, we remained best friends. I moved to Australia for a year, and she hated writing so we never really spoke during that year, but the moment I was back, it was like we’d never been apart. It’s always like that with her and me. It still is.
I had my own struggles as a young adult, but she ended up starting on a path of self-destruction which became harder and harder to watch. She started to distance herself from me. I had no idea why, and I didn’t really know what to do about it, other than being there for her the day she finally needed me.
Without sharing the details, I will just tell you that when that day arrived, and she finally needed her best friend again, she began by telling me she was gay.
My response was the same response I’ve given anyone who tells me that. 1) Absolute elation and congratulations that she can finally be herself 2) Assurance that it changes nothing between us and 3) Making her promise I would be the first to go to a gay bar with her if she hadn’t already been. I was. It was and remains fun as all hell. No holy.
When she asked me, though, if I had known or guessed before she told me, I told her no. She seemed surprised. So I said,
“It’s none of my fucking business. I don’t make a habit of trying to guess who people want to sleep with because that makes me a fucking creep.”
It had literally never crossed my mind. I just am not programmed to think about it. If she is in danger, or she’s spending too much time with someone who treats her like shit, then I care. Man or woman. Outside of that, all I wanted and still want for her is to have someone she can love, happily and get out of this self-destruction bullshit.
You wanna know something fucking awesome and all heartwarming as shit? Soon after she came out, she met the woman she has been with for the past 8 years. They are happy, they travel all the time, and they even adopted two puppy-cats, my nephews, named after an assassinated president and a Star Wars character. Yeah. Let that warm fuzzy hit you right in the feels for a sec.
It all turned out fucking fantastic. You can paint a picture of it with roses and glitter if you feel the freaking need. It was all peaches. No pun intended.
You sound like you still have a problem with it though, Godless Mom.
Fuckin’ right I do. Remember that bit about the self-destructive behaviour before she came out? That was not fantastic. Her hiding who she was for most of her life? Not even close to glitter and roses. My fucking issue with this is that coming out is something you have to do if you’re not 100% heterosexual.
Why the fuck does the world care so much? Why is it, that as soon as you say you are attracted to the same sex, people who don’t even know you come out of the woodwork condemning you when before they couldn’t give two shits if you even existed?
Why can’t a son, if he finds he likes men, just come home one day from high school and say, “Mom, I have a crush on someone! His name is Jack!” and have Mom react the exact same way she would if he’d said Jill?
Why does there have to be this declaration, this ceremony, this announcement of what type of genitals you get the most pleasure from?
I mean, really, doesn’t that seem a little… invasive? So, why?
Our default mode is to assume a child will grow up hetero, and we create an air of shame around anything that strays from that to the point that all children, gay or not, hide who they really are.
This shame comes from many places, but the most powerful source is homophobia. This beast of a word is used to describe people who feel some form of discomfort with the idea of same-sex relations. That’s what it’s used for. That’s not what it means.
Homophobia is not a fear of homosexuals. It’s not discomfort or disgust. It’s not disapproval and it’s most certainly not a moral high horse. What homophobia is, is a badge someone wears that means one thing, and one thing only. It means, “I am not happy with what does or does not happen in my bedroom, so I am going to take out my frustration by scrutinizing what goes on in yours.”
A homophobic is either secretly LGBTQ, or not getting any. Period.
You can come up with as many reasons as you like to explain why you do not approve of same-sex love, but it’s all a pile of shit. What kind of God is anti-love? What sort of prophet would tell you to turn your back on your kid based on who they sleep with? What institution is worth tearing families apart? None.
I tell you what: Let’s just assume Jesus wants you to hate gay love. Let’s just go right the fuck ahead and assume this is a fact, it’s been proven, science agrees. Jesus exists, he is the son of God and for some reason he needs you to hate certain types of genitals touching.
If that were the case, I’d tell Jesus to go fuck himself. I’d tell him to go fuck himself twice. Then I’d tell him to go fuck his Dad.
The other day, my son, who is 5, was watching a commercial during one of his cartoons. I wasn’t paying any attention to it, but all of a sudden, he declared, “Mommy, I wish I was a girl.” When I asked him why, he told me that if he was a girl, he’d be able to have Twinkle Toes, which I guess are a type of shoe.
I told him that he didn’t need to be a girl to wear Twinkle Toes and that if he wanted them next time we buy him shoes, that it was okay. I mean, I already paint his effing nails.
I know if he chooses those shoes, he will probably be made fun of and I made sure he understood that. But that’s not on me. I am doing everything I can think of to bring up a generation of kids who won’t make fun of someone for something so utterly inconsequential to anyone else’s lives. Are you?
As a species, we need to re-explore what it means to mind your damn business. As a species, we need to stop being so obsessed with how our neighbour likes to get down. As a species, we need to be pro-love, pro-sex and pro-people. We do the sex. We all do the sex. Even the nuns and monks go to tickle town, I guarantee it. We are animals who fuck. We will always be animals who fuck. The sooner we come to terms with that, the sooner we can focus on shit that actually matters.
What do you think about homophobia? Are you for marriage equality? I dare you to answer no…
As for my LGBTQ readers: You are perfect and beautiful and you have every right to take pride in yourself. Don’t ever let a single person tell you otherwise. And if they do, come talk to Godless Mom: firstname.lastname@example.org