Before choosing a man based on his religion, you need to decide who you are. It is logical that an Orthodox person will choose an Orthodox person, a Muslim will choose a Muslim. A fisherman is a fisherman, as they say.
The problem is that I can't classify myself as belonging to any denomination. I'm a polyreligious Victoria, meaning I've tried and studied everything I can. I'm 99% sure that there is a higher power, but I don't know what to call it and how to gain its favor. At Christmas I'm in church, at Epiphany I'm in a hole, once a year I go on a retreat and sit for hours in front of a Buddha statue, I happily attend Hindu festivals and do hatha yoga, in between these classes I eat everything that's not spoiled, I drink everything that burns.
Is it porridge in my head? The real thing is semolina and lean oil.
Here's the story with the men and their religions. Throughout my life, I've been a lot: from a Voodooist and a Scientologist (in my youth and great stupidity) to Christians, Buddhists and atheists. With a Muslim, it's a different story. Therefore, I will share my experience of communicating with these guys. I will share it more for self-reflection than with the aim of teaching you something.
Just in case, I'll say it right away, otherwise things can be different, I only speak for those I know personally, not for everyone.
Atheist
So, I had an atheist named Vasyl. His apartment was littered with books by Dawkins and Hawking. As usual, he immediately began a boring lecture about how there is no God and everyone who believes in him is a savage. At the beginning of the relationship, I liked it, I like smart men, and he gave that impression. But the further I went, the more I became convinced that Vasyl was a terribly toxic type. He devalued me and my hobbies at every turn.
I asked him once, “Why are you in a relationship with me, a savage, if I believe in such things?” To which he replied, “I love a fool.”
In essence, Vasya was not an atheist, but a complete bourgeois. Apart from money and gadgets, he was not interested in much else. All his atheism was designed for fools like me. The point was to throw dust in people's eyes and assert himself at someone else's expense.
By the way, he didn't argue with intelligent religious people. After 5 minutes, he would fall into hysterics and start reciting the mantra: Man is only a function of reproducing the biological species. Vasya had not been able to reproduce his biological species up to that point.
Buddhist
There was a Buddhist named Yevgeny. A strange and charming man. He didn't shout that he was a Buddhist at every step. When I recognized him, I thought he was some kind of gopnik: a tracksuit, a short haircut, brazen self-confidence. But when he opened his mouth, I realized that the boy was not simple, he knew how to speak well and smoothly.
I found out that he was a Buddhist when I came to his house, although we had been dating for a month before that. So, at home he had an altar and a separate shelf with books, most of which began with the word “sutta..”. I asked: “Eugene, are you a Buddhist or what?” – to which he replied with a smile: “A real one, with the Shelter.”
What pleased me about Eugene was that he didn't talk about his religious beliefs until I asked him a specific question. He tried not to comment on my emotional turmoil, and even less to devalue it. He could only ask one thing: “Why? What is the ultimate meaning of this for you?”
As for everyday life, he was no different from any other person. I didn't see him meditate. He didn't eat meat, well, almost. He didn't drink alcohol, well, almost. But his Buddhist friends appreciated him for something, asked him questions, and called him by his first name.
His calmness was terrifying, like a robot that had been taught to smile. He loved to dress well and took me to expensive restaurants. To my caustic questions about his modesty and contempt for everything worldly, he replied that he was not a monk and asked me not to monitor his morality.
What really annoyed me about him was his condescending smile. It was like he wasn't saying a word, but you still felt like a complete fool.
He broke up with me himself. He said he didn't want to cheat on me, but he couldn't imagine a future life with me. He said he wanted children and a family, but I wasn't fit for that role. I wasn't his Hume. It was a shame.
You are a bad Buddhist, Eugene. You have caused suffering to a living being.
Christian
This is the most epic story. A year with Yaroslav can be entered in the work book as a hot experience. Yarik was very religious.
I found out on our second date that we were going to have a wedding, a wedding ceremony, and children. I found out on our first date that I would burn in hell if he didn't believe in Christ. It's a good thing his missionary zeal cooled when I said I did and showed him the cross.
And she rushed off. On weekends we go to church for service. We pray before meals (Evgeny, by the way, also muttered something under his breath before meals, but he never called me to do it).
All my things that I supposedly don't use were donated to the church. Coming home to it feels like a museum. Bibles, lives, and icons are totally everywhere.
I don't have sexy clothes because of my build and the hellish accumulation of complexes, so there were no problems there. But he couldn't stand my “drunkards, libertines, and pagans” friends.
In general, Yarik was the perfect choice for the role of a husband. Very homely. Kind and sensitive. At the same time, he is honest, to the point of being disgusting. My mother still can't forgive me for sending him away.
Once, at a corporate party, I danced a slow dance with a colleague, and then he repented in front of me, shedding a tear.
I played the role of a good Orthodox wife with interest, but I could not imagine that it would be for the rest of my life. In short, I saved Yarik from myself. I betrayed him. I confessed and asked him not to extend his forgiveness to me. It was one of the best things in my life, he simply would not have been left behind.
Muslim
My brief acquaintance is limited to Damir. A gorgeous Tatar from an Orthodox family. The big black car and generous courtship made an impression on me, I won't hide it.
Along with the glamour of a “rich” life, I was immediately told not to count on any relationships, meaning serious ones, and to be a mistress “when he has time” is fine. Damir had a Muslim wife and daughter. I'm not Muslim, which means I have no chance.
It is important to say that Damir only called himself a Muslim, that is, I did not see him praying or rushing to the mosque. I do not know if this is important or not, but he did not wear a beard.
I was introduced to the rights and responsibilities of a “good wife.” I listened in horror and said, “Thank you very much, but no.” I didn't want to be a mistress because my responsibilities were immediately outlined to me, and I was asked to forget about my rights — what rights does a mistress have?
These are the stories.
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🤝 Shared values above all ❤️ Love is stronger than dogmas 🤔 I have my own experience
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