Going to church and talking about God: that was always like having someone watch me make love. I hated it. It ruined the very nature of it all. These were very personal things for me, Spirituality and Love, and involving someone else could only corrupt the sanctity of it all.
I loved God once, when I was alone with Him. I don’t know that He was a he. I wasn’t even sure what He was, but that was OK. I didn’t have to label God to love him. We would talk for hours, and there was understanding and peace. We’d go for long walks in the City late at night when no one else was awake. We would look at art, and there was an understanding. We would listen to music and we would pray. We never had to explain ourselves. We were happy.
But then, one day, I met another man who told me he knew God too. He told me who God was, and what his rules were. He told me about God’s past. He told me God was an old white man and only loved you so long as listened to him and read his books. He assured me He was a fantastic author. He gave me one of God’s books. I read it. I thought it was awful. I thought he was an awful author. It was elitist and exuded exclusivity. It was vain and materialistic in nature. I never knew that about Him.
Reading that book changed things; I began to notice all His flaws. I became aware of all of mine, too. I thought that there was no way he could really love me for who I was. My understanding of Him was warped, and I began to act strange and uncomfortable. He noticed it too. I distanced myself, and we didn’t hang out as much. Eventually we lost our connection. My heart hurt as it always did when I realized I never really knew someone at all. It always leaves a hole in you when you lose a friend.
So, we went our separate ways. It is simpler that way. We see each other now and then at parties, but we both just turn away. We get drunk and pretend we don’t know each other. We exchange awkward glances. If someone asks me about God, I tell them what an asshole he has become since we split up. I don’t really mean it, but my feelings are hurt. He tells people the same, I’m sure. I see his new friends, and they point and laugh at me. He probably calls me a “faggot” and tells them what a sensitive man I am; how I am so girly. I am sure he told them one of my secrets.
I have somebody new in my life now. Her name is Whiskey. She is nice, but I still miss the days when God and I hung out. I still think about him when I drink my coffee in the morning, when I watch the sun rise. Things are so messy between us these days. I wonder if He misses me at all, and I’m sorry for the way things turned out. I’ll do better in my new relationship. I promise.