When You Date An Opinionated Person

Which is really a polite way of say a racist.

He’s blindly racist.

He has a point in there amongst all the swearing and wild accusations.

He loves his country. And he’s afraid of what could happen to his country.

But at the same time he’s got so much wrong. His facts are often wildly exaggerated and generally seem more along the lines of mad propaganda than informed education.

How do I explain this to him?

If he could see past the anger and muddled uneducated then he would realise that there is a lot more to this world than racist slander. There is a lot more to the situation in the Middle East than just the World against Islam. There is far more to a religion that what you see in the news. And regardless of what you believe. If you’re going to argue on the grounds of religion, then you should know that religion as well as any believer.

His mind is angry.

I wish I could get him to calm that fiery storm.

I myself, I have opinions too. But I keep them too myself, till I know for sure that I have my facts straight. I want to be sure of myself. Sure of my knowledge. My opinion is for myself. I feel no need to force it on others. They have their own crosses to bare, they’re own experiences that shape how they see the world.

I grew up in the church.

Although I don’t believe.

I still have a great respect for the place.

I may have lost my faith, but it taught me far more than just one religions thoughts on creation. It taught me to forgive, to turn the other cheek, to learn when to walk away and when to stand my ground. But it also taught me tolerance (something my mother needs more of but alas that is for another time) I have patience when it comes to people, I let them speak their mind, and never argue unless I see it as an argument work investing my passion into. Some people need to learn on their own, others taught.

Where my boyfriend falls in this is lost on me.

He has the passion for this country our politicians need.

But he has the mindset of a back water back packer with no concept of tolerance.

Puzzle me this.


When your ex

Yes, When your ex gets back with his ex.

And announces it at 2am.

And then again at 10am the next day.

Like seriously WTF man?

I graciously ignored the first message assuming it wasn’t meant for me. We haven’t spoken in months, not in a I-hate-you-stay-out-of-my-life kind of sense, just we don’t talk. Obviously.

But the when the second one came through it was like he’d poked a beehive with a stick.

The fool.

I considered the replies.

Ranging from the guilt trip of admitting I was totally still in love with him, to the complete crazy eyed bitch of those memes and raging the world at him and the hoe.

And then I looked over at my abalicious boyfriend sound asleep on my bed.

The lightbulb went off.

I snapped a sneaky picture.

And replied.

“That’s good, my bed is too full of boyfriend to fit you in again anyway”


I can say right now that I am totally proud of that response.

It was radio silence on the other end.

So I took that as a win.


Growing Up Churched But Not Christian

I know this seems like an odd first post back but bear with me.

It’s something that has sort of been playing on my mind for a few weeks now.

People are so often either for or against religion.

Black or white.

There’s no room for a grey area.

I feel as if I grew up in this grey area.

I grew up in church on a Sunday. Going to Sunday school while the adults listened to the sermon. I grew up with a strongly Christian mother, so there was no swearing, no blaspheming, no sex before marriage. I did all that. And then some. I can still tell you all the books of the Bible, I can recite a fair few verses and I know most of the main bits off the top of my head. I grew up happy to believe in a God. It made sense to me. Or at least it made sense to believe in something and find out I was wrong and that there was nothing than to believe in nothing and never really know. I accepted everything. I defended it proudly.

And then I turned 18.

And there was University – Sex, Drug and Rock and Roll. And a Bible study leader who told me to dump my non Christian boyfriend because it was a sin to date him. He wasn’t a Christian and so as far as she was concerned he was pulling me away from God. I told her my dad wasn’t a Christian and that my mum has managed fine, and she told me my parents were lucky.

And the penny dropped.

I suddenly realised I wasn’t what I’d grown up believing.

All those lessons.

I could no longer join those lessons of forgiveness, tolerance, and leading people to the faith, to my life. The puzzle pieces didn’t match up.

But at the same time I had no problem with the people who did believe. Yes, of course there are the wack-a-doodle weirdos who seem to think that it’s their right to shout about what they believe and condemn everyone who isn’t on their team. But my mum is Presbyterian, old fashioned for sure, but she keeps her opinions very much to herself. And me. I just shrug when she gives me a piece or her Churchy education. Some of it is odd and the rest is down right absurd. I love her. And to be honest I have no problem with what she believes, although her ideas can often bamboozle my less pragmatic mind.

Like her dislike of tattoos.

Obviously, I know, that the Bible does condone tattooing. Being that your body is a temple. And possibly because I desperately want one. But she really is quite judgemental. More so of those than of people who smoke. Tattoo isn’t going to kill a guy mum.

And then there is her rather particular opinion of my being on the pill.

“It makes you look easy to boys”

Not safe, not protected, not even sensible, nop. Easy. This I must add was a recent development. I’m on the pill because I get the craziest migraines. So where this little nugget of gold came from I have no clue.

There is more and as I think of them I’ll add them on, this is sort of a work in progress kind of post. As it occurs to me I’ll write it down. I feel like I’m alone here, but there must be more people like me? More people who left the church without malice, just a sort of agnostic acceptance that you didn’t agree. I’ve never felt this longing to go back, or that often documented emptiness, sure my life could be better but couldn’t every ones? I just don’t think believing in a God right now will make my life any more or less cumbersome than it already is.

But that’s just me.