It's My Party

me not wishing you anything this holiday season. (but in the nicest possible way.)

even way back then, smart little me was all “i’ll scrape my fingernails on your stupid xmas chalkboard in protest”. what’s that lady doing with her chest, by the way. i mean right? yikes. my sister probably drew that. i was obviously far too intelligent to just be drawing random crap on chalkboards. i’m sure that’s what the line down the side was for – rf protests the commerciality of a fake person’s birthday while trebek draws random crap.

i’m in it.

as long as my professional life revolves around me needing to cater to everyone and anyone requiring real estate services, i remain in the atheist closet. (except for well, me dipping my toes out of it here now, of course.)

it once occurred to me that i could be different and set myself apart from all the other puh-jillion in my industry. i could be “rachel fitz, atheist realtor!”, but then i decided not to be a random idiot. because i’m above that. instead, i continued to use my giant brain and concluded that this spin on myself would not make sound business sense and would probably eventually start taking food out of my mouth and clothes off of my back. because unfortunately readers, realtors (and their names/images) are always “on”. always. the only time we’re “off” is when we’re hiding in our sofas, late late at night.

when do you stop being “your first name and your last name”? you don’t. however, if your daily job entails an office with a desk and you have regular encounters with “the man”, you have some wiggle room. you can be “work you” during work hours and “real you” during off hours. when you’re a realtor, you pretty much have to be one professional, intelligent, neutral version of you and guard you and your likeness with all your might every day, all day, in every possible forum and channel. i personally can’t be supporting controversial causes, candidates, and issues as long as i’m me in this job. there’s so much i always want to say or do, but i censor myself. because i just kinda have to.

true, there’s a host of other non-believers out there who would all warmly welcome me as their go-to girl if i were to be so public about it. but i’m not about to scare away the believers as i come clean with my core beliefs. after all, their business is just as valuable as anyone else’s. the only reason i’d love to come out is so that the open-minded believers who respect everyone (how many of these ones actually exist?) know not to make me uncomfortable with their “have a blessed day” (since i’m over here trying to not to make them uncomfortable with my “you just die when you die” sentiments.) so, i will just sit tight in this dark cozy space of mine until one day far away when the world stops kidding itself and realizes that there’s just no logical way any of that god stuff can be true. except, i’m pretty confident the collective world just slowly keeps growing more and more ignorant and dumb so i’ll probably just end up taking this large part of who i am with me to the grave. well, not entirely. there’s a trusted circle and they obviously know. and they’re obviously cool with it. most of them are also people who think quite a bit so they don’t believe either. ( i’ve found that atheists gravitate towards each other somehow. it’s neat.)

so what did we learn here today… we learned that gay people aren’t the only ones hiding in closets. we’re all hiding something in some closet somewhere. so thank you much, rachel fitz readers, for letting me get that off my giant chest. i feel better.

and while we’re the subject of me not being allowed to be 100% me all the time, here’s a facebook page i also can’t publicly become a fan of:

ugh. such a true, guilty pleasure ;)

by rachel fitzwater

(i’m not sure if this is about me, or you. i think it’s about me. but i’m not sure.)

I fall asleep beside you, kind of gently holding one of your fingers with a few of mine.

I *can’t wait* to see you at the end of our respective work days.

Just try to get me to stop touching you.

We have entire conversations with just our eyes.

You’re my “you”.

No matter what others think you look like, I maintain that you’re adorable. Because I actually really think so.

We have little dance parties in the kitchen while dinner cooks.

When I’m driving us to mike’s house for drinks on the lake, I reach over and squeeze your knee a lot.

I get butterflies every single time you walk into a room.

We just fit together perfectly. Because we’re pretty sure we were made for each other.

I’m allowed to sneak up from behind and jab tickle your sides. But under no circumstances are you ever going to get away with it in return.

I insist on us making out. A lot.

Whenever I can’t sleep at 3am, I gaze over at you sleeping and grow instantly calm and relaxed.

Our idea of the perfect night = just us. cozy. at home.

There are constant “rf styles your hair” sessions.

We blank in the blank.

We disagree on matters sometimes, so I challenge you to thumb wrestling matches for a decision.

When you fall asleep on the sofa watching rachel zoe project, I wake you with kisses and then whisk you off to bed (or just join you in our enormous furniture when you coerce me into it).

We both want to be each others’ everything. And we do it.

Sometimes I catch your scent on me while I’m at work, and then I get a huge smile and then everyone wants to know what the h I’m so smiley about.

I just happened to memorize the locations of every freckle you just happen to have on your entire bod.

It’s like I’m missing my left arm when you’re out of town for work.

When you’re sick, I’m unable to function with you sleeping in another room.

Together, we’re like an electrical storm.

After work on fridays, we play 9 holes and then sip martinis upon me beating you.

We talk about everything. Literally.

You feel me smiling in the middle of kisses a lot. (Because I still can’t believe I’m kissing you!)

For xmas, we coincidentally got each other the exact same really thoughtful thing.

I tie your ties while you try to talk me out of whatever fancy rf social engagement we’re headed to most nights.

When we wake up in the morning, I gently peck your lips with mine (since your cute face is right there and all).

You publicly denounce my nickname for you (even though you secretly love it, poodle.)

I know that you’re an idiot. But you’re my idiot. And I like you. A lot.

When your face is anywhere near my neck, I purr.

We high-five a lot.

I insist that we not be “that couple”. (Ugh. They’re so annoying. Aren’t they?)

When you’re hungover, I rip on you all day long (or while you’re awake I guess).

I expend so much energy trying to get you to laugh. But sometimes I just settle for a real smile.

I kiss you so well, you never want me to stop. And I never intend to.