Sunday Sister

June 21, 2015…

Happy Sunday

Honestly, I am not religious. I actually find going to church LOATHESOME. It is in the church I see very bigoted, hypocritical, and judgmental people. You know those people that see the tiny speck in your eye when they have rocks in theirs’. They have forgetten that part of the scripture where Christ said “judge not”.

There is a thin line between judging and observing. They have crossed it with reckless abandon.

Okay, process this. Every day, men see women wearing trousers. During fellowship, they see women wearing trousers. But on Sunday, a man must not see a woman wear trousers. Please, why shouldn’t women wear trousers to church? (I am yet to see a Catholic church that allow women wear trouser for mass.)

Our society has taught us to believe that when women dress indecently, provocatively, men would leer at them. This would make women get gratuitous sexual advances. That logic is so sick. It is like stealing a car because it is nice. The bottom line is this: men should control their lust. They should convince us that they are not animals.

I have a good relationship with God. I love Christ. I just have an issue with Christians. I don’t subscribe to organized religion.

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. 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. Disgust 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 was thinking of the assignments I had to do. ( I didn’t have all these bulk of assignment when I was an undergraduate. Graduate school is hell, I tell you. HELL!) 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 just thinking. It is not my fault. A woman is always thinking.