Boy, do I have some Tales to Tell...
Sunday, October 25, 2009
 
I've always wondered why people have a cringe when they discover that I hate children and don't believe in God. Actually, I don't believe in any type of higher being. But that's not what this blog posting is about. It's more about how people react to my feelings and beliefs. Because truth is, before I told anyone those two facts, they were fine with me.

I hate children. I don't want them. I'm not the type of gay to have kids. I have no paternal instincts. I don't think they are cute. I want nothing to do with them. I don't even want to be around them. So, when I say I hate kids, I always get that pause. Then the statement, "You can't hate kids." I always follow it up with, "Yes, I can. I hate you too." It's always an interesting conversation afterward. I know that part of it is that I play it up. But I really don't feel that I need to pretend that I like them. I hate them keep them away.

Then there's the God thing. First off: religion IS a choice. Not being gay. You can change the religion you grew up "believing". You can pretend not to be gay. But, in the end, you are just a big old closet 'mo. But back to God. I don't believe in God. I grew up Catholic. It's probably why I don't believe. I remember being 5-years-old, in church, turning to my mother, and asking, "Why are we doing this?" She was not happy.

Look, you can believe all you want. I don't. And yes, I do judge you for believing some writing in a book. Just like you are judging me for not believing in some higher being. I guess you need someone to tell you to be good to people. Treat the world around you with respect. Give back. But you don't. I won't even get into that. But you don't.

See, I hate children and I don't believe in God. My life goes on. Yours does to. I don't need to explain why I feel the way I do. I just wonder why you think I do. Later.
 
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Eating up the City before it eats me up. I'm a freelance cook who spends his free time working out, cooking for "my man", and wondering why the Right is so concerned about my bedroom.

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