Genesis 3:17

We all know how it goes when you meet someone you think may be your soulmate. On the first day, everything falls into place perfectly. You find out you have a ton in common. You agree about everything.

The second time you’re together, things still go really well, but you start to notice little areas you will need to work around.

The third time, more areas of disagreement open up, but you still think things can work. So you have sex. If you’re a woman, you have to have sex by the third encounter because men insist on test drives, and if you’re a man, if you don’t to it, she’ll tell everyone you’re gay.

Then you have sex for three more years, making sure the woman is on the pill and having abortions if needed. Then you get married because no one better has shown up.

It’s universal, right?

Not really.

I spent a huge portion of today communicating with the Zambian lady who pounced on me on a matchmaking site. Okay, maybe that’s not quite what she did, but she did fire the first shot. We can’t seem to find anything to disagree about. I think we may already have turned into one of those insufferable couples who spend way too much time together and always side with each other against their friends.

She blasted me out of bed with a video call at 9 a.m. I had awakened a lot earlier, but I fell asleep during my prayers. I had a dream. In the dream, I was in a hotel room with two cousins. One had a couple of puppies. I was playing with one. It was a chubby, friendly dog with spots like a fawn. I asked my cousin what kind of dog it was. He said, “It’s a summole. I said, “Summole?” He said, “Summole mutt.”

I thought that was a pretty good joke for a dream character to make up.

I insisted on showering and taming my hair, and then our day of relentless courtship began.

The first session took place with me in the gun room, in an office chair. Compared to yesterday, I got smart. I mounted my phone on a tripod so I wouldn’t have to hold it.

There was a break and then a second session. I grabbed a battery pack I bought for a night vision scope, and I hooked it up to my phone and Bluetooth earpiece. This assured the phone and earpiece had enough juice for the third session. Which came after a chat session.

I know there has to be something we disagree about. We just can’t find it.

I know what you’re thinking. “Someone in Africa who has pictures of a beautiful young woman went after an old goat in America, got him on the phone, and told him whatever he wanted to hear.”

Sorry to burst your bubble. She talked almost continuously for the first two hours or so. She gave me her testimony. I just listened. And you can’t fake video chat. The lady in the pictures is the lady on video.

She has had a whole bunch of supernatural experiences. She went to a prayer mountain on a 5-day fast (not even water), and she heard God’s voice. She has had visions. Jesus appeared to her in a dream, put a little TV screen in her hand, and showed her how he had looked after her all her life. She healed a paralyzed woman in a wheelchair, and the woman got up and walked. Later, the woman lost her healing and had to wait 10 years to get part of it back.

She likes T.B. Joshua. His church gives people water that has been prayed over (they refuse to sell it), and she dreamed she was spraying it on a giant snake that was on top of a building where a group of people were worshiping God. She said the water turned to fire, and the snake shrank down to a few centimeters. Then she squashed it.

She is militant about supernatural warfare, just like I am. She hates demons, just like I do. Like me, she seeks God’s help to be like powerful Christians of the past, who worked miracles and did all sorts of things to glorify God.

She loves correction and repentance. She hates yoga and astrology. I don’t have to explain anything. So many American women are ignorant about Christianity, even if they’ve been baptized with the Spirit.

It’s like God has a factory where he creates custom-made women for people, and he made this one for me.

We talked and talked about revelations we had received. We talked about preachers we did and did not respect.

While we were texting, I asked if she would mind praying together before our next chat. I said God would let it slide if we didn’t do it a few times, but sooner or later he would lose patience. She said she had been about to ask me the same thing.

The poor woman hung up at two a.m., her time. I had warned her. I said she needed to keep the time in mind, because I was happy to talk to her until morning.

I never got the American “BUT.” You know how that works, if you’re a man.

“I like steak.” “Yes, dear, BUT GMO-free tofu is better for us.”

“I want a Rottweiler.” “I know. BUT a rescue cat with an infected ear is more ethical.”

“I bought lizard boots with silver tips.” “I’m glad you like them, honey, BUT not in public.”

“Christianity is wonderful. It’s my life.” “It is wonderful. BUT Paul had some problems with women, and, of course, we need to correct for toxic masculinity.”

I just want a slave who has sex with me! That’s my problem!

No; I just don’t want to prefer having my liver torn by vultures to having a short conversation with my wife.

One of the great things about marriage, for men, is that we don’t HAVE to do it. You can disagree with me. You can call me an idiot. You can say I’m not a real man like Alan Alda or Chaz Bono. I, on the other hand, can deprive you of my company and my seed forever.

You can sue the daylights out of a man you’ve already married and destroyed. When a wise bachelor sees you and your shoulder-chip coming two blocks off and runs the other way, there isn’t one accursed thing you and your unfertilized eggs can do about it.

Get your BUTs out of my face.

Several years ago, I left Miami. It’s a trashy city full of crass, cruel, materialistic, ignorant people who treat each other badly and don’t know God from Julio Iglesias. I thought I would forget how much I disliked Miami, but the more time I spent in a healthy culture, the more I hated Miami. It looks like it works the same way with women. The more time I spend talking to a woman with a good heart and a heavy dose of the Holy Spirit, the more horrified I am at the pool of women I used to draw from. It makes me want to run up to random men, grab them by the arms, and say, “THIS ISN’T IT. THERE IS A BETTER WAY.”

Fashionable American “men” aren’t prizes, either, though, so it would be a waste of time. They like having someone else to split their Clinique and La Perla budgets with.

No woman is perfect, but there are A women and F women, and there is a spectrum of women in between. If you can get an A, why would you torture yourself with C through F?

The fact that this lady is very beautiful is just icing–very thick icing–on the cake. For men, there are two big problems. The first is women you could never marry in spite of their wonderful personalities, and the second is beautiful women you only think have wonderful personalities because they look good. You always hope to find someone who has a great personality and looks good enough to enjoy touching. A mature man doesn’t ask for physical perfection. You don’t need a 10 to have fun. I was once very happy with a 5. I would be happy with a 7 or even a 6 who cleans up good, as long as the personality was there. It was totally unnecessary for God to connect me with someone whose picture startles me every time I see it.

I feel like I’ve already married this woman. I found her one day ago, and I feel like we’re a couple.

So I’m going to have her Fedexed over here next week, and we’ll get married the day she arrives. Before she’s even out of the box. Then I’ll give her a power of attorney, put all my property in her name, and let her take me skydiving.

No. Why assume a good start means a man is a moron?

I am going to take my time. Anyone can be fooled. I don’t think I’ve been fooled this time, but then that’s what you say when you’ve been fooled. I hope I haven’t fooled her. I hope I’m a good move for her. We’ll pace ourselves. Maybe it’s more accurate to say I’ll pace ourselves.

What I told her was that she should not mistake prudence for lukewarmness.

Am I in love after one day? I am restraining myself and refusing to go there at this time.

I have never seen the blessed life God promises. I have never lived in heaven. I don’t know what a truly good marriage looks like. I don’t know how good life can be. I have known a lot of women who seemed great, but what did I have to compare them to? I knew women who were smart. Women who were kind. Women who were funny. Women who were responsible. I can’t say I’ve known many women who were strongly in line with the Holy Spirit. I’ve known many women who thought they were and were not even close, though.

I don’t know what courting an A is like or how good an A can be. I have to be educated, just as God educated me about living among decent human beings. Can this woman be as good as she seems, or am I letting hope delude me? I can’t answer that in one day.

How good is God willing to be to me? That’s the fundamental question. People always tell me how hard life is, but mine is not. It used to be. The closer I get to God, the easier it is. I have to be careful how much advice I take from people who live in a different reality.

I used to joke about foreign wives. I won’t do that any more. If you’re a man and you’re tired of being clawed at for no reason, you’re dejected because of physical rejection, and you feel you can’t do anything right, maybe you’re not the problem. This country’s women are not in good spiritual health.

That’s all I got. If I buy a ticket to or from Africa, I’ll probably blog it.