Put on your yarmulke, it’s time to celebrate…

Hanukkah.

August and I have been celebrating Hanukkah.  I’m not Jewish (though I am quite interested in the customs and history), and August proclaims himself an atheist.  However, he has a Catholic-Jewish background (one parent from each religion), so we’re celebrating.

I bought a menorah and  candles last year, intending to celebrate by myself.  I gave up after the fourth night, though, because it just made me feel lonely.  Having someone else to celebrate with is a different experience.  Tonight will be the sixth night.  We don’t make latkes or play dreidel (I think those things will be more fun when we have children some day); we light the menorah (the shamash first, then the candles from right to left like Hebrew writing, as is tradition), say the prayers (one for the lighting of the candles, one for Hanukkah in general), then relax.

Traditionally no work is to be done and no other lights are to be lit for at least a half hour after the candles are lit, but we don’t do anything until the candles have completely burned out, which takes over an hour.  During that hour, we’re focused on nothing but what’s happening around us.  We watch the candles melt, we talk, we cuddle close.  So far each night has ended with at least one of us fully naked, being kissed and caressed by the other (August has taken to saying “I love Hanukkah.  Hand jobs for Hanukkah!”).  I’m sure that’s not what the Jews intended this holiday for, but we take it as a time to just… be.  We don’t think about the stressful things.  We talk, we laugh, we love.  It’s time for us to be together, to be completely focused on each other.  And what are holidays for if not togetherness?

The Fall, Explained.

I don’t know if anyone who is reading “Religion and the Real Girl” has also gone over to “Sex and the Real Girl” for a read, but assuming you have, let me explain (and if you haven’t, please feel free to skim through at least).

The long and short of it is:  I’m being selfish.  I used to be the good little Christian girl, I used to attend church regularly, read my Bible often, pray when I remembered that that’s what I’m supposed to do.  I only dated Christian boys, and the physical side of those relationships only got really out of hand once or twice (though they’re nothing compared to where things have gone with August).

August and I had met through mutual friends, but we really became aware of each other in summer.  I knew he was a sexually active atheist, he knew I was a virginal Christ-follower.  Despite these differences, we soon became inseperable.  We both had our doubts at first, but those soon disappated.  We’ve always had great communication, so it was clear from the start that he wanted to have sex, and I wasn’t going to give in.

But I have given in.  At least a little.  We haven’t had sex, but we touch.  We see each other naked.  We shower together, we sleep in the same bed, we live together.  Some people may say that after living under an opressive religion for so long, I’ve thrown the shackles off.  They’d say that I probably grew up in a Christian home and am finally thinking for myself.

Those people are wrong.  I grew up in a faithless home.  I had only a vague idea of who Jesus is until I was 11 and started going to church with my best friend (who is now not a Christian because of her upbringing.  Life is so ironic).  I believe that I still have my faith, that it’s buried somewhere inside me, waiting to shine.  I feel like maybe I need this time, maybe I need to rebel against my Abba (Aramaic for “Father”, not a reference to the Swedish pop sensation of decades past).  I feel like I need to explore this side of myself, because without it I am incomplete.  People are created as sexual beings.  And yes I know, premarital sex is a sin.  What I’m doing is likely a sin.  But stop, think:  how is my sin any different than yours?  Aren’t all sins the same to God?  So before you judge this girl that is me, consider that me giving or receiving oral sex is on the same level as you lying or looking at someone lustfully or not telling the cashier she gave you too much change or saying something rude to someone or hitting your child or whatever it is that you’ve done.  And there is something.  We’ve all got something.  Some day I’ll probably need to ask for forgiveness, and He will give it as He always does.

I wonder, if Satan had a change of heart and repented, would God forgive the fallen angel who has devoted himself to destroying the world?

Introduction.

My original blog was called “Religion and the Real Girl”, but it’s actually turned into a blog about my recent sexual exploration with my atheist boyfriend; therefore it is now called “Sex and the Real Girl“.  Subscribe to both if you’d like, or just one if you don’t like.  Or neither.  Whatever your preference.

The purpose of this new blog is to share my thoughts on my beliefs, to sort things out.  I thought I knew how I felt, but lately I’ve found that I don’t really know anything.  This is both good and bad– good because questioning is how people grow, bad because I feel confused.  “Why have a seperate blog for that, though?” you may be wondering.  Well, I tried to have sexuality and spirituality share a blog, and it was just too complicated.  So here we are, things are simplified.  This is where I write about religion, theology, etc.  There is where I write about intimacy, sexual experiences, etc.  Sometimes the blogs may overlap, as there are times when the two are interconnected.

Enough of that.  Now for the thought that popped into my head while showering this morning:  How can we share God’s love with people if we don’t first share with them who He is?

Who is God?