I’m Not the Only One Here…

A challenge one faces when they follow their own belief system is they inevitably become romantically involved with someone who doesn’t believe, understand nor want to understand said belief system. Take me for example. While my late husband and I were both “Christian” I did not attend, nor felt compelled to attend church while he did. He actually enjoyed attending church services. That was fine for someone who had no issue getting up at the butt crack of dawn to go listen to someone babble on about how sin is bad and God is good. Me, on the other hand, enjoyed sleep. I’ll figure the sin and God part after I’ve woken up and am able to function. I attended services with him once and only once. He couldn’t understand how I could be Christian if I didn’t go to church. He found out the first spring we were married - my ass was outside in the yard every day. “This is my church. This is where I connect with God,” I said as I chucked a hunk of dirt at him. He just shook his head and went about his day.

Probably wondering why God sent me to him.

Anyhoo! These last few months have found me explaining my belief system once again to someone who doesn’t really understand, nor seem to care to understand, my faith. It’s fine. Most don’t want to understand as long as I’m happily doing my own thing. Unless it fucks with their thing. I never knew football fans were damn near cultist-like in their fanaticism. I do not care for football. I don’t understand it very well, even after questioning the current beau and watching games on my own to decipher the cryptic code they call downs and turnovers. I understand interception and touchdown, but the rest of it - first and ten; third down and punt - none of that makes sense to me, so I do what every other good girlfriend does when her boyfriend is watching football. Leave him the hell alone. Or text him nude pictures or amateur porn. As an aside, the porn will get you a visit if the game is shit, just so you know.

Anyway, the Chiefs were going to the Super Bowl. Then the Eagles. I told my boyfriend that the Chiefs were going to lose. He asked why I thought that. “Because I don’t like the Chiefs?” Apparently just because you don’t like a team is not grounds for placing a bet against them. Especially when your boyfriend doesn’t believe in witchcraft, magic or anything that logic cannot explain. “They’re going to win.” My boyfriend knows more about football than I, so who was I to argue? I just know I don’t like the Chiefs. Why? I cannot stand their quarterback. I don’t know why, but that boy hits me wrong. It’s probably because its his face plastered literally everywhere when it comes to the Chiefs, and as far as I know, there ain’t no I in team. Is that his fault? No, but I don’t like him regardless. Childish? Yes. Do I care that I feel this way about the quarterback? Absolutely not and I can guarantee you he doesn’t either, so I can continue not to like the kid and he can continue not to care. But that’s why I said the Chiefs were going to lose. The very next day, I saw a Tik Tok video stating the same thing, but for far more logical reasons than mine.

I still like my reason better.

Four days before the Super Bowl, I said the same thing to a co-worker who, like my boyfriend, was a Chiefs fan. “Why? Why you gotta say dat?” was his indignant reply. Ya see, my co-worker, while not believing in my faith, but understands my belief system knows that words have power - especially when you have belief following those words. I showed him the video, he dismissed it and me. “You can’t say dey won’t win because you don’t like their player.” I can, and I did - especially on Sunday. Anyone who told me to enjoy the game got a “Chiefs are gonna lose,” from me. I even said it to my boyfriend (and blissfully got a swat to the backside for my “impertinence”) when he left to join his family for the game. Shortly before it started, I sent him a text hoping he enjoys the game, I’ll text him when I get home and I love him. I followed up with “Chiefs are gonna lose” and went about my very slow night - customer traffic died when the game started. To be honest, I didn’t care who won or lost - it’s football. I only hoped it was a good game for all involved. I didn’t hear anything until around 6pm when someone came in for some Red Bull. Something about the Chiefs and a turnover. Again, don’t understand, but yay? Quitting time came for me and I went home, texted my boyfriend some racy comments and provocative pictures just to screw with his head. Thirty minutes later, he strolls into my house and glares at me. I literally had to interrogate him about the game - I thought it was over. Oh no, just halftime. Chiefs were losing - when my boyfriend told me this, his voice was clipped and he wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Maybe they’ll rally in the second half. They usually do. Well, not so much this year, but…” That was when he whipped his head to me and demanded to know how I knew the Chiefs were going to lose. I opened my mouth and he said, “Don’t talk to me.”

Oh-kay. I can tell you without talking. I pantomimed I didn’t like the quarterback as I was shouting it in my head. I don’t know if he understood my charades or he got the telepathic message (I’m thinking he didn’t really care much either way) because he just laughed and said, “You can’t tank a whole game because you don’t like the quarterback.”

I’ll admit, I was a little indignant that he thought I would throw a game, but it did make me feel good that he thought me, of all people, had the knowledge and power to do that. “Do you smell incense? Do you see any candles lit? I’m not doing anything. And before you get started on the intention thing, I’m a baby witch. I don’t know when I’m manifesting something. For fuck’s sake, don’t you think I’d manifest a million dollars before I manifest whether the Chiefs lose a silly game? Besides, the game isn’t over yet.” For someone who didn’t believe in magic or manifestation or any of my woo-woo stuff, he knew the basics of it. It’s kinda sweet that he does pay attention to some of the stuff I say. My boyfriend knew what I meant by intention.

He distracted me. Right up until the neighbors set off fireworks. Which is how I KNEW he thought I was doing some witchy shit because he was off me and back into his jeans faster than I could get my ass off of the bed! I went to the window to see the fireworks and he grabbed his phone to check the score. The look he gave me, oh my god, the look! It was a mix of what the fuck and how in the hell. He was dumbfounded, shaking his head in disbelief at me as I started cackling (I seriously couldn’t help that) and shaking my own head. I didn’t make the Chiefs lose the Super Bowl - I was THOUROUGHLY distracted so it wasn’t me and I tried to explain that to him. He did not want to talk about the basics of witchcraft. We were both chuckling (well, I was cackling because for the very first time, the team I wanted to win the Super Bowl won) and he went home.

Yesterday, he sent me this video followed by, “We need to talk.”

Oy. So much for him listening to me. I don’t mess with free will. I don’t need that karmic shit storm. AND, as much as I love this one, I would have manifested a million dollars BEFORE I manifested a man if I knew how. AGAIN, baby witch.