Yesterday was a red-letter day for flirt-with-the-geek-chick: I turned down two guys (one asked me to a D&D tournament, which was rather endearing, actually). But what really weirded me out was “You should check out our church!” This was, obviously, not a come-on…at least not a relationship come-on. I later told a co-worker, the only one I know to be an atheist, how uncomfortable invitations like that make me feel. I further allowed how I don’t like a parting “God bless you”, which I often get. Maybe iPods and iPhones really do inspire diestic devotion, but most often I’m delivering Last Rites for them, so I’m not entirely certain that these blessings are related to what I do (versus how the customer thinks).
“I try to accept it in the spirit in which it is given,” I told him, “but the assumption still annoys me.”
“I’m pretty upfront about it. I just tell them, ‘Oh, no thank you, I’m an atheist.’” He responded, after a commiserating body gesture, “But it’s hard sometimes, because that’s not really something that it’s acceptable to be.”
We were still on the floor, so that was the extent of our conversation, but it resonated with me for a few reasons. First, because I sometimes wish I could be that upfront, although I don’t feel that an invitation to a church would be rebuffed by such a response. Just as my other co-worker, he of the giant crosses (which he has stopped wearing, thankfully) wears his beliefs on his…well, technically on his chest but metaphorically on his sleeve, I wish that I could wear my beliefs more loudly. Perhaps it’s just proof that, underneath all our belief systems, we’re all human, and that we shouldn’t get caught up in this stuff since it’s not important. Unless it’s oppressing others, of course.
The second reason that it stuck with me is this: I left out some pieces of the story above. When I told him that invitations to churches made me feel uncomfortable, I leaned over the bar in his direction, and lowered my voice conspiratorially. When he responded, he spoke at a normal volume, getting slightly louder for emphasis when he said, “I’m an atheist”. He then lowered his voice when he allowed that this was hard. The reason this is important is that when he said, “I’m an atheist,” I actually started & looked behind me, as though there might be, I don’t know the pope?, standing there, hearing & judging. “Shhh!” I thought “Someone might hear you!” His allowance for how hard it is to admit this might have been because he noticed it, or maybe the quieter volume of that comment was. I kinda hope he didn’t notice it at all, but it underlines for me the fact that, at least in some situations, I’m still embarrassed to be an atheist.
