So, a lot of stuff has been going on lately and I haven’t been that great at keeping you guys updated. So, here it goes: Even though we’re having a “mixed” marriage, meaning that I’m not Catholic, we have to attend marriage classes at the church across the street from our house. Now, I think the idea of marriage classes is genius and everyone should have to take them before marriage. How great would it be to learn conflict resolution, listening skills, interpersonal communication skills, etc..before you’re hitched? It would be awesome but this is not what you learn in Catholic marriage class. In fact, aside from “sperm conservation” (think Monty Python) I’m not sure what they teach but I’m about to find out. I don’t want to offend any of my Catholic readers, but seriously, I’m not sure I can trust some guy who has never been married to tell me how to go for fifty years without murdering my spouse. It’s also possible that the classes are different in the US but here our first class went something like this:
We entered. We sat. Couples came in giggling and blushing all introducing themselves and sitting around the table demanding the wedding date of everyone else. The priest entered. His married assistant entered. The priest asked everyone what they wanted to learn from the class and the answers were as follows:
“I would like to learn how to deal with arguments. We’ve been together for ten years and we don’t know how to solve arguments.” Listen, if you can’t solve arguments with someone you’ve been with for TEN YEARS you should not be getting married. You should be getting therapy.
“I am here because I’d like to get married to gain financial indepence from our parents.” The fuck?
“I would like to learn how to be married happily.” Yes, ask the unmarried man in the dress. He knows.
This continued for a while. Then, we were asked to introduce ourselves. This is where I become an asshole and say it all in English. This way, I am allowed to color in my book instead of listening because it gives the impression that I don’t speak Italian. I didn’t feel like I belonged there, I felt like an imposter and I didn’t want to be forced to speak in any way. My husband introduced us by pointing out that he’s Catholic and I’m an Athiest because he’s a jerk. Also, he’s not really Catholic, and I’m Agnostic, HE’S Athiest. He’s only Catholic when it’s convenient for him. CALLING YOU OUT BUDDY! Anyhow, everyone stopped talking to stare at me, so I took it as a good time to smile and wave. Some giggled at this, one couple rolled their eyes and the priest was inspired to rant for thirty minutes about how great it is that I’m willing to attend the classes for the sake of my husband and that the life of an Atheist is difficult because every day of my life I struggle to ignore the existence of God. Which I don’t do, priest. In fact, I’ve tried really hard to be religious a few times but I can’t get myself to believe in any of the books that were written by men. Men are idiots, inspired by God or not they are bound to screw things up. Again, I’m not Athiest, I don’t deny the possibility of anything, I believe in simple morality. I believe in kindness inspired by true compassion, not morality inspired by obedience. With that said, I’ve always thought it would be really cool to be Catholic, but the fact that a lot of religious people are assholes has turned me off to the whole thing. An example? The priest last month (in Italy) who announced that all of the women being murdered in the world “deserve it.” Asshole. If more Catholics were like Lady Gaga I’d be all over it.
With that said, I’m not a perfect example of morality and I feel like I should make a list of my bad qualities just to show I’m not putting myself on any kind of pedistool, but that would take too long. Anyhow, after the priest finished his thing we sat around and basically stared at each other for ten minutes before the class was over. In two weeks we have another class. Cannot.Wait. I will keep you updated.
Every Sperm Is Sacred, Every Sperm Is Great
My Church Class Artwork. Yes, that is a burning house.
