If you know me at all, you know I bumble around a lot. Usually I emerge unscathed, but sometimes I do something completely embarrassing that forces me to take a look at myself and at all the feels I usually bury deep inside.
This is one of those times.
Not too long ago, my beautiful cousin, who is getting married to a wonderful man (well, I’ve not met him, but I trust her), posted this article on my Facebook feed.
Now, it’s no secret that weddings are a teensy bit of a sore spot for me, what with my own being a ten-minute ceremony in the JP’s apartment while the nurses in the maternity ward looked after our six-day-old premature twins. (In our defense, it was supposed to be a shotgun wedding proper. The girls just had other ideas.)
But, I’m a bigger person than someone who would hold someone else’s wedding against them. No, I swear I am!
It wasn’t that. It was the article itself.
I can’t explain to you how overjoyed I am that my cousin is finally tying the knot with someone she loves and cherishes and that she has waited to give up her virginity until now. Because that’s how she wanted to do it. That is what she believes in, and that is her right. I couldn’t be prouder.
Apparently, though, people make fun of other people for not having sex. People look down on other people for not having sex. Having never had that issue myself (clears throat), I didn’t know that.
But Mr. Steven Crowder let me know. And he let me know in a big way. And I felt bad for my cousin. I thought, “Jeez, who are these dicks who would try to cheat a person their happiness because they chose to do things a different way? That must suck. Can’t we just stay out of each other’s bedrooms at least.”
Then I got to this line: “When people do marriage right, they don’t complain so much, and so their voices are silenced by the rabble of promiscuous charlatans, peddling their pathetic world view as “progressive.””
Crowder goes on to call me a floozy, a harlot, and in another piece the “comedian” has written, a concubine.
And I’m here with my jaw on the floor, thinking, man, Steven Crowder, I didn’t even know who you were, but I was happy for you and your new wife. I mean, congratulations and all. I was just over here having my sexy times…could you not call me names, though?
And I stewed. And I thought about it. And I posted the article to some close friends to get their imput.
And I self-righteously decided that I was angry with the article because it prevented me from sharing in my cousin’s happiness because I couldn’t like a status attached to that tripe.
Yeah, right. Good try, self.
A friend of mine then sent me this article, by Jezebel.
God, I love Jezebel. I want to work for Jezebel. Seriously.
As far as the article is concerned, I was mildly disappointed, because I think they could have done a much better job responding to the article by Fox point by point. The gif parade only pretty much proves Crowder’s point. (Though I totally laughed at Harry Potter picture and at the last gif where the guy is calling himself a comedian.)
I posted it. I clicked share, and I posted it.
Here’s where the bumbling and introspection comes in.
Later that night, after I’d gone to sleep, I received notice on my phone that my cousin’s brother (also my cousin, but that would get confusing, no?) had posted something on my wall.
Guilt consumed me. Had I angered him? Hurt him? Insulted him in some way? Did he also think I was a harlot and a floozy? Oh God.
I ran down to my laptop as soon as I could and loaded up Facebook. I couldn’t find the posting. I checked my junk email where I send my notifications. I couldn’t find the notifications. I checked the little world icon up there. Nothing.
He deleted it, I thought. He posted something tearing me down, thought better of it because he’s actually an awesome Catholic, and took it down.
Did I deserve it? I thought and mused. Yeah, kind of, I guess.
That was an asshole thing to post, knowing that my cousins firmly believe in marriage before sex. Did they think I was judging them? Because I wasn’t. I do reserve judgement for Mr. Crowder. He is a douche. And he is a detriment to the Christian cause. Because articles like that do nothing but push people who were otherwise in quiet support or on the fence away. I know that I want nothing to do with a religion that calls all my friends names for their private dealings. But it’s not the religion. It’s that one person. (Okay, a bunch of people. But the ones on the other side are just as bad with the name calling.)
What was needed was an article that went like this: I waited to have sex until I got married and it was totally awesome! Here’s why! Not, nyah nyah nah boo boo, you are a poo poo!
But anyway, back to me.
I was so overcome with shame, that I wrote my older cousin a personal message, explaining my actions, and asking for forgiveness. And that was hard.
What’s harder is that I’m sure he looked at his inbox like, what the heck is wrong with Darlena?
Because he had sent me a request from SchoolFeed.
Guilt, people. I have it.
And does it matter to me that I didn’t “do it the right way?” Not at all. Not in the slightest. I couldn’t care less because my family is strong and right and good and I love both my daughters and my husband with a fervor I have never known before.
But I found out that it mattered to me that other people might severely judge me for the way my life unfolded. People close to me. Like my extended family.
And that’s a good thing to know. Because now I can work on two things. 1) I can work on having thatnot matter to me. Because it shouldn’t. And 2) I can give those close to me the chance to not be judgmental a-holes. It is absolutely unfair of me to assume that because a person did things a certain way in their life, that they would expect me to do the same and judge me for it. I can at least give them the benefit of the doubt.
I can at least be better than Steven Crowder.