From me to you; Still waiting for your answer
He tried not to spit his drink all over himself, but her question had caught him off guard. He coughed violently, trying to catch his breath, as she sat calmly across from him, waiting for the answer to her query.
“What does an atheist say when he has an orgasm?”
Friends of friends had fixed them up, and at first he had thought her a complete flake, with her hippie clothes and her wild child hair. He had only met with her to be polite, and because he had nothing better to do tonight, and what was one drink, right? One drink had evolved into two, and now they were sitting at a table with a half empty bottle of wine between them. He took another deep breath, his eyes still brimming with tears.
“I don’t know, what does an atheist say when he has an orgasm?” he croaked out.
She sighed in exasperation.
“It’s not a joke; I’m not trying to be funny. You said you were an atheist and that you don’t believe in God or in any higher power or deity. I asked the question because it doesn’t seem fair to me for someone to invoke the Lord’s name in times of pleasure or pain if you don’t believe in his existence. You might as well yell out, ‘Oh Easter Bunny’, or ‘Yes, Santa, Yes’. You get my point?”
He wiped his eyes again and looked at her, really looked at her. She had pretty eyes, but there seemed to be an overwhelming sadness behind them, as if she had survived some sort of tragedy. Everyone’s survived some sort of tragedy in life, he thought, you don’t get to our age without having suffered some how.
He took another deep breath.
“Yes, I guess I see your point. I’ve just never really thought about it before. Just because I don’t believe in God doesn’t mean his name has to completely disappear from my vocabulary. It’s just a word to me; it doesn’t have any magical or mystical power for me. What do you say when you have an orgasm? Do you invoke the name of a deity you believe in?”
She smiled slightly and took a sip of her drink.
“I can’t remember that far back. It’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity to express my self.”
He thought he saw a slight blush color her cheeks; maybe it was the wine, or the dark light in the bar, but he decided that yes, she was pretty, a bit flakey, maybe, but a nice person with a quick mind and an absurd sense of humor.
He took another sip.
“It’s been a while for me too, so I don’t think I can give your question an informed answer. Maybe we can finish this bottle of wine and go back to my place and I can give you the answer you’re looking for.”
“We just met. Casual sex is so nineteen seventy six”.
“I was five in nineteen seventy six” he replied.
“I was fourteen,” she said.
He was slightly turned on by her confidence, at the fact that she didn’t even hesitate to mention her age.
“You could have baby sat me” he replied, “You could have made sure I said my prayers before you tucked me into bed.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in God?” she said.
“Well, back then, I did, a little. Maybe I just need someone to make me a believer again.”
She laughed, took another sip of wine, and smiled at him with a saucy grin.
“Have you ever had a Michelangelo?”
He wondered if this was a joke, or another one of her absurd questions.
“What’s a Michelangelo? Is it a piece of art work?”
She smiled, leaned closer to him and answered in a low voice.
“A Michelangelo is when you lay on your back and I make you see God.”
Her smile turned to a mock frown and she said, in pitying tones.
"Too bad you’re an atheist. It probably won’t work on you.”
He leaned closer and put his lips close to her ear.
“I’ve always been a great lover of art. Maybe all I need is someone to make me a believer again.”
“Maybe you do, maybe you do.”