Sunday, 14th of December, 2014…
Sunday mornings are wonderful. You should have a reason for it to be wonderful. It could be that you are a Muslim and you are going to be home relaxing. You might be a Christian going to church and your spirits are already lifted because you LOVE going to church. Yes, you must love going to church. It isn’t me saying. It is what “they” said. “They” said you MUST love being in the presence of your maker. But, ask yourself if you really enjoy going to church. Don’t worry, God understands. If you’re not honest with yourself, I don’t even like you. Stop reading this blog. Bye.
You know, those days you don’t feel like going to church, or the mosque, can be compared with to a woman who is having sex with a man she doesn’t feel anything for. I feel like I am with a man I don’t like. I lie there on my back counting the ceiling- distracted by the blades of the fan. I feel his weight on me. I am aware that he is there. And as if to confirm his presence, my hands rove the expanse of his back. This elicits a grunt from him. I am repulsed. I am brought back to the present. His sweaty body grinds against mine. I think of whom I’d rather be with. I think of velvet, silk, satin and everything soft. At this point, I ask myself what in perdition I am doing here. I fake a moan, and a sigh. A moan. A growl. He grunts. It’s like my cries of ecstasy urges him on. I roll my eyes and I widen my hips to accommodate him. He pounds into me. Faster and faster. He collapses on me. He pants and grunts in my ears. Repulsion shoots through my system like heroine. He rolls away from me and peels the condom from his shrunken manhood. He mutters something in my ear. I don’t even care. Before I bat my lashes, he is snoring soundly beside me.
That is how I felt in church today. I wanted to be anywhere but the church. I was thinking of the assignments I had to do- I didn’t have all these bulk of assignment when I was an undergraduate. I was thinking of what I was going to wear to school on Monday. I was thinking of my classmates. I was thinking of my friends. I was thinking of J. I was just thinking. It is not my fault. A woman is always thinking.