Romantic relationships have been few and far between for me. A major reason is that I have “traditionally” been pretty strident about wanting to date only atheists. Up until a few years ago I followed this rule pretty religiously.
First, I want to say this is a personal topic. Perhaps too personal. So, why am I writing this? I definitely have regrets in my life, and I’ve made wrong choices. Some were probably how I dealt with this situation. I’m also discussing things that happened between myself and another person that I maybe should keep to myself. This did give me pause. I don’t want to violate someone’s privacy, but I’ve decided to write this because: Only people who know me, and also know this person might be able to guess at who I am talking about. That is a very small number. Additionally, as you will see, I now think I was treated quite shabbily, and I want to relate this story to other atheists/Objectivists out there who might encounter similar situations. Maybe this will help them navigate such matters better than I did. Perhaps they can figure out a better solution to the problem than I have. I am open to suggestions or refutations. I don’t claim to have all the answers on this topic.
My “Traditional Position” On Dating Christians, Especially Fundamentalists
As I said, in the past I have been pretty strident in not dating believers. I refused to do so, generally, which really limited my dating options. (People who have known me for a long time are about to hear me eating a lot of my own words.)
If I were very wealthy, my local lack of choices in women might not have been as much of a problem. I could have flown all over the world, looking for the atheist Objectivists out there, but I’ve generally lived a life down in the lower economic rungs. I’ve also realized part of my refusal to date theists was based in my own sense of stubbornness.
I tend to be pretty “hardheaded”, and the more “the group” wants me to do something, the more I dig in my heels. When I was in my early thirties, I told some people at a party I didn’t think it was right to tell children there was such a thing as Santa Clause. One of my good friends, who was somewhat intoxicated, said: “You’re never going to find a wife!”
I remember being furious with my friend. I should have just talked to him, and told him that what he said hurt my feelings, but I wasn’t capable of that sort of discussion with another male back then. My way of “getting back” or “proving that I was right” was to get on my blog, and fire off an essay on why I could never marry a Christian. Writing provides me with a certain amount of “emotional release”, in that I can get something off my chest, and then I can move on with the rest of my life. (If you’re wondering, that post is not on this present blog. It was lost when I transitioned to WordPress in 2008.)
Another time, when I was in my early twenties, I remember being out with some other Ayn Rand fans while I was at the University of Texas as an undergrad. The topic of being married to a Christian came up. One of the guys there was, in fact, an atheist married to a Baptist. He said you had to look past that aspect of the person. My response was to say anyone in that situation should divorce his wife. Looking back, it makes me cringe a little I made that sort of “declaration”.
I do think being married to a Christian, and being an Objectivist, will be very difficult, maybe even impossible. However, I don’t think it’s my place to tell someone that is what they should do, rather than letting them figure it out, one way or the other, for themselves. In that situation at UT, there was no attack on my values that I needed to defend. He was just in love with his wife. I wish I had remained quiet.
My stridency lasted until I was approaching middle age. I had potentially bad medical news that caused me to stare my mortality square in the face. As best as my doctor can tell, this issue is probably nothing. The instrument being used, an MRI, is not accurate enough to say for certain what is going on inside my body. The probability is that I am fine, but that information caused me a great deal of anxiety and worry. I also am well into midlife now. That tends to make a person look back, question some of the past choices they’ve made, and think about whether they should make different choices going forward.
I think these events moved my thinking on the subject of becoming romantically involved with a theist. My new thinking essentially was:
(1) This is the only life I’m going to get.
(2) Life is for the living.
(3) Given the culture I live in, how likely is it that I’ll die alone, with no wife and children, if I insist on atheism as a “deal breaker” for romance?
(4) Does living the rest of my life alone seem preferable to maybe being able to eek out some happiness in this precious, and only, life with a decent woman who happens to believe? (I don’t 100% know what the right answer is here. But these were the questions I was starting to ask myself.)
As a result, I think my mental position shifted without me fully realizing it until she came along.
Enter the Christian
What you first need to understand is that I love to dance. I started taking lessons about ten years ago, when I was 37.
I started with Latin dancing, specifically because I wanted to learn the Cha-Cha. (I had heard it was Ayn Rand’s favorite dance style.) Unfortunately, except for certain ballroom dancing circles, where the crowd is usually much older, the Cha-Cha appears to be a dead dance style. (Although I loved learning it, and enjoy it when I can get it.)
Then, I took up East Coast Swing/Lindy hop. I enjoyed it very much, and I still do it on occasion, especially when I can find a good rockabilly band. But, the music being played in EC Swing circles is mostly from the 1920/1930’s. I just do not like that type of music. I wanted to dance to contemporary music.
While perusing YouTube one day, I happened upon a video of a couple at a dance competition in Phoenix. I thought it looked somewhat similar to what I had been learning in East Coast Swing, but they were dancing to music by Shakira. The dancers were attractive, dressed in contemporary clothes, and doing some sort of very smooth dance style that looked very sexy and fun. The lead was Jordan Frisbee and the follow was Jessica Cox. (Even their names sound sexy.) After a little research, I discovered this dance style was known as “West Coast Swing”, although, sometimes in Dallas, it’s called “Push”.
WCS is mostly danced to blues and contemporary pop. The modern music really speaks to me in a way that “traditional” East Coast Swing music does not. (Excluding rockabilly, which is a lot of fun with ECS.) The people in WCS also try to look good on the dance floor. I always thought the people in ECS circles dressed a little “frumpy”. (No offense to any East Cost Swingers out there reading this.)
For some reason, most West Coast Swing in Texas has a lot of “crossover” with people who also country and western dance. You can go to almost any country and western dance hall in Dallas, and the DJ will periodically throw in some pop music that is great for West Coast Swing.
It was in a country and western dance club that I met a person who seemed beautiful and smart. Furthermore, her interest in me seemed high. So much so, that I think I got her phone number the first time we talked. I doubt that our paths would have ever crossed in any other context but the dance world, and it was dancing that drew us to one-another.
I had seen her several times before we spoke, and I already knew some things about her. I had been told by a friend she was a fundamentalist Christian. (A “non-denominational Christian”) I had never made an attempt to approach her or talk with her before, probably because of this. Frankly, I thought she was beautiful the first time I lay eyes on her.
When she eventually expressed such clear interest in me, I could not resist asking her for a date. She was such an enormous value with her good looks and quick, intelligent wit, that it would have been like asking me to stop breathing, eating, and dancing. I couldn’t do that in the name of an abstraction called “atheism”. (I’m also sure, somewhere in my mind, that I thought perhaps she would change, which I recognize is a one-way ticket to relationship hell, if you are expecting that.) All I can say is it’s easy to say things like “I only want to date atheists,” when you are alone, or writing words on paper, as opposed to when you are in the presence of someone special.
You also have to understand that I was in that environment: a country and western bar in Texas. The people there were mostly theists. I suppose I could have stopped dancing, and sat at home, exclusively reading books on how god doesn’t exist, but that doesn’t sound like much of a life. So, I chose to live, as best I could, with what was available to me. (Rightly or wrongly.)
Our first date was a musical in Dallas -an adaptation of Les Misérables. She seemed kind, and very appreciative of the entire experience. She voiced her wonder and excitement for the venue and the show. Our conversation was easy and natural. There were no awkward silences. We were in the moment. I made no effort to kiss her at the end. Although I generally think it’s better to just go for it, her fundamentalism was still a cause of concern for me, and I didn’t quite know how to approach her. I had never spent that much time around someone from the world of “nondenominational Christianity”. My own family, while religious, is of a more mainstream viewpoint. I hadn’t been to church in 25 years, and had been “out of the closet” about my atheism with my family for about as long. It was like spending time with a person from another similar, but slightly different, country. At some point she had mentioned a Christian music concert she had been to like they were the Beatles. I’d never heard of them. It was like I was with an American from a “parallel world” in science fiction.
I think after that first date, I saw her some more randomly at the country and western dance hall we had originally met at, but I did not contact her for another date for quite a while. I’d say it was about six months later, after I’d had a romantic “strike out” with another woman, that I contacted her again.
For the second date, we went to have drinks and dance to a live band at a bar in Plano. The music was right. The dancing was right. She seemed to love being there with me, and I kissed her on the dance floor.
Despite how great that night was, I was prepared for a letdown. This happens to me a lot. I have what seems like a great date with a girl, and then she will tell me she can’t see me again, or that she only wants to be friends, or whatever. Unlike Ayn Rand, I think I have a less “benevolent view” of the universe, so I tend to expect the worst, especially from other people. I think I have an ingrained expectation that others will disappoint me.
The letdown did come, however, so my belief was not wrong. Later that week, we had dinner, and she raised the subject of my atheism. It was the first time she had mentioned it. I hadn’t explicitly told her I was atheist, which was a moral failing on my part. I knew what she thought, and I should have told her sooner. But, I also knew it would probably be a “deal-breaker” for her, and I likely gave in to an “I wish” over an “it is” in my mind. (With a little, semi-delusional, “maybe she’ll change her mind” hope thrown in for good measure.)
I assume she had been reading my Facebook page and/or my blog, which both provide strong indication of my atheism. It’s also possible she had asked others about me. Her way of broaching the subject was to say: “Do you hate Christianity?”
I didn’t know what to say in the moment. I think I probably smiled a bit. I don’t remember what the rest of the conversation was like on the topic, or my exact response, but she clearly didn’t like what she was hearing. I remember now that she wanted to pray before we ate. I told her she was free to do what she liked, which she did with some sort of oral prayer. I tried to wait politely until she was done, but I probably had a smirk on my face, so I’m sure she didn’t think I was being polite.
I had never been asked that question before, in quite that way. (Hating Christianity.) Since then, I’ve had time to think about it. I don’t really look at the question in terms of “hate”, “love” or any other emotion. I try to look at ideas and belief systems in terms of “right” or “wrong” and “evidence” or “no evidence”. That said, and this isn’t me being an atheist per se, but me being an Objectivist, I think that bad ideas lead to bad consequences. Christianity in the past, when it was a dominant force in society and politics, had many bad consequences. So, I do think religion is bad for the individual and bad for mankind. We would be better off without all religion, including Christianity. For that reason, I’m very hesitant to in any way lend my support to religious institutions or beliefs. Objectivism teaches that this is how evil, which is anti-life, survives -with the support of the good (the pro-life). (http://aynrandlexicon.com/lexicon/sanction_of_the_victim.html) (Not that I consider the modern version of Christianity to be evil -not since the Renaissance and Enlightenment.)
After that evening, I did not hear from her for about a week. I texted her one evening to see if she wanted to go dance, and she sent me a long text that amounted to: “I cannot see you anymore because you are atheist.” She was quite nice about it, and not at all cruel or vindictive. I responded with my own long text, which, as best I can remember was along the following lines: (1) I am sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner I was atheist. I knew it would be an issue for you, and I didn’t want it to be, so I was dishonest. (2) I think you are great, but I understand what you are saying. I hope that when I run into you at dance venues, we can still be friendly.
With that, I assumed it was over, I was pretty okay with it. We’d only had two dates. I was disappointed, but not surprised. At that point, I wasn’t in so deep, emotionally, that I would have too much difficulty getting out from under her spell. But, she wouldn’t let it go. There were text message conversations she always initiated. I received a birthday card at my place of work, which made me feel great, and wonder if maybe she was changing her mind. She would want to go to a particular dance venue with me. There was more kissing. By then, I was afraid to ask her out on a date, because I never knew what I was going to get. Was I going to get the fun, enthusiastic girl who seemed to really like me, or was I going to get the severe fundamentalist who tells me it’s a biblical commandment not to date someone outside the church? (I’d gotten both from her.)
She would seemingly disappear for a month, then text me, out of the blue, and want to spend time with me. The last time, during the summer before COVID, she reached out to me and wanted to go dancing. I enthusiastically agreed, always hoping against hope. The level of intimacy between us grew over the next few weeks to a new level, and by then, I was in love with her.
After the last time I saw her in person, she texted me once, after a shooting near the courts in Dallas, checking on my welfare. A few months later, I noticed her Facebook profile had a picture of her with a man.
I always suspected there was another guy. I never asked her questions about it, since I didn’t think it was my business. She had made no promises to me, and had even explicitly told me she would not be with me. Despite that, when she texted, I always came running, like a thirsty person in the desert, sprinting at a mirage. I had chosen the torture, so I accepted it. The situation felt like the story of Dagny Taggart and Hank Reardon with the genders reversed. At points, she even said things to me like “you are so bad”, which sounded, to my ear, a lot like when Reardon denounces Dagny Taggart after they sleep together. (My “romanticizing” the situation by comparing it to something from Atlas Shrugged probably didn’t help me to see it clearly.)
I made an attempt to text her to say happy birthday after that, but she didn’t respond. I never saw her at dance halls or music venues again. I stopped seeing her profile on Facebook messenger, so I’m guessing I was blocked. For a long time thereafter, I was left feeling, emotionally, like someone who cannot quite catch their breath. There were times when I felt worthless, and unlovable. I would still dance, but, at times, especially at the venue I used to see her at, I’d develop a certain level of depression and just have to leave. (Unlike Howard Roark, the suffering seems to go down pretty far for me.) I’ve experienced a broken heart before, so I knew it would pass, but it was one of the rougher “romantic blenders” my emotions have experienced. I now resent being discarded without so much as a “farewell”, or explanation, like a disposable person, who deserves no better.
The hardest part for me was that I understood her internal conflict so well that I couldn’t really be angry with her at the time. Like most modern Westerners, she is culturally part Pagan Greek and part Jerusalem. Intellectually, part Aristotle, and part Plato. The part of her that wanted to live wanted me, but the other part, the part she had been raised with since she was a baby, told her she had to live for a nonexistent afterlife. I’ve only recently realized that doesn’t fully excuse her for stringing me along like that, with mixed signals that left me so emotionally vulnerable and hurt that it caused me problems in a subsequent relationship.
My “Take-Aways” From This Experience
What did I learn from this? First, it may be a “moot point”, since I have had enough extra wealth in recent years to attend things like Objectivism conferences. I’m hopeful I can meet the right woman there, or someplace like it. However, I will not rule out marriage to a Christian. (Although, as I have learned, they’ll likely “rule out” me, regardless.)
I will always be honest and upfront with what I believe. Figuring out the timing and the context on when to tell someone religious I am atheist is always a bit tricky to me. I’d prefer not to have to walk around with a t-shirt that says “atheist” on it all the time, but I also don’t want to mislead someone. Certainly, before things get too physical, I think that needs to come up.
If I date a theist, I am not willing to hide what I believe from their family or friends. It’s clear to me that is sanctioning irrationality. However, I am no longer certain that I would always refuse to participate, in terms of something like holding hands, in some ritual like a prayer before Thanksgiving dinner. As long as it is clear to everyone there I am atheist, I don’t see this as sanctioning irrationality. It’s one thing to assist a spokesman for the Church, writing books and pushing faith. That would certainly be a moral sanction by me. It’s quite another to accommodate an average American that believes, but not too much, and wants to say a prayer before Christmas dinner as a sort of tradition.
If I am in a similar situation again, the woman and I will have to “negotiate”, as best we can, the issue of having children and how to raise them. In the end, this may doom a relationship, but I am not willing to simply throw up my hands and not at least try to see if we can come up with something we can both live with. I would certainly tell children what I think, and would not hide my atheism from them, or do anything to make them believe that such beliefs are bad or immoral. (In the end, teenagers can make up their own minds.)
Why the shift in my view on this? I believe one of Objectivism’s fundamental tenants is value-pursuit, and living the best life you can. A wife is a fundamental value I am unwilling to live without. Remember, it is the Christians who deprive themselves of values for some non-existent thing they believe they will get after they die. It is the Christians that live for the next world, and not this one. If I fall in love with another believer, I will be honest and open with her, but she will have to decide to break it off with me. (Or never start with me.) I want to live, and I will try to accommodate her, such that she can be in this life with me.