I’ll keep all the sordid details to myself, but the gist of the story goes something like this. For nearly a year and a half, my girlfriend Diana had been working retail and living with friends that didn’t mind the fact that she couldn’t afford to pay the full amount of her share of the rent. This January, her friends politely asked her to leave. Not having many options, Diana turned to her grandmother, Connie, who graciously took Diana into her home. In many ways, Diana is much better off. Diana has medical and dental insurance for the first time in years, and Connie has promised to help her go back to school next fall. Diana now pays zero rent, and she eats nutritious foods far more often than she bothered to while living on her own. Connie is giving Diana all of the basic necessities that her granddaughter was cheated out of in childhood. There’s no faulting the woman on her generosity.

But I have to admit something. In the short two weeks that Diana has been living with Connie, I’ve grown to resent that woman. To preface my point, it might be helpful to know that Connie is a right wing, religious conservative, “moral majority” kind of lady that locks her television set to the Fox News Channel all day long. That in itself is no reason to dislike anybody, because everybody is entitled to an opinion. But what upsets me about Connie is the fact that she rigidly forces her repressive morality onto Diana and treats her granddaughter as if she were nine years old.

For some inexplicable reason, Connie thinks that computers are the Antichrist. I shit you not. She actually refers to them as the fucking “Antichrist.” Apparently she got that idea from the Book of Revelations. It is because of this questionable religious assertion that Connie has decreed that Diana is limited to using her computer for no more than ten minutes a day. Never mind the fact that Connie keeps a computer of her own in the study, and that she uses it to read her email in increments of hours per day.

Then there’s the curfew thing. Diana is not allowed to stay out any later than 8pm. Her bedtime is 9pm. I suppose 9 is a reasonable time to sleep when you’re forbidden from watching anything else besides the Fox News Channel. I understand that this curfew thing is a product of a generation gap, but I have a hard time believing that Connie never stayed out past 8pm when she was in her early twenties.

As if limiting Diana’s freedom weren’t enough, Connie can’t help but think the worst about people. Yesterday, Diana’s former roommate, Gabe, went over to the house to help set up Diana’s computer. When Diana wasn’t looking, Connie took Gabe aside and asked him about me. Why do I hardly visit Diana? Why does it seem like I never have time for her? I say I’m busy with law school, but I can’t be that busy. I must be cheating on Diana with another girl. Thankfully Gabe had a friend that went through law school, and he told her all about the hell that is the life of a 1L. Upon hearing Gabe’s explanation, Connie just looked at him and calmly said, “I didn’t know it was that hard.”

You’re absolutely right, Connie. This whole academic spin story is just a cover. How busy could I be? It’s only fucking law school. When I say I’m doing homework for my Torts class, I really mean I’m doing a tart in the backseat of my Chevy. I make your granddaughter happy, so I must be scum. And I am scum, Connie. But at least I don’t sodomize Sri Lankan flamingos with my pentagram-encrusted cane the way that you do every Tuesday. See, Connie? I can make unfounded accusations, too.

I recognize that this isn’t an attractive side to me. I don’t like being judgmental and acidic. I originally intended to lay out my feelings with maturity and balance. But this is the way it came out, and I don’t have much of an inclination to change it. I try to live my life with compassion. I don’t hate Connie. And even though I’m the resident agnostic in this sick little arrangement, I’ll have to do my part to be as much like Christ as I can be. Do unto others as you would have done unto you. Love your neighbor as you love yourself. Judge not, lest you be judged. Support the woman you love while she endures the greatest test of her life. This move was about her, after all. I’m just a spectator with a vested interested. I love Diana, and I know she’s in store for plenty of hardship. She’s seen hardship before, and she’s stood tall with the help of friends. This time around, I’ll do my part to keep her standing.