Good Marriages are Only Made in Heaven

The process of trying to get together with my Zambian sweetheart “Rebecca” has not been without stress. There was the concern of determining whether our relationship was from God. We also had to find out about the hurdles of travel and immigration.

Last night, I had a very comforting phone call. I talked to my buddy Mike. Recently, he has been spending time with a lady I’ll call Esther. She’s very conservative. They seem to agree about everything. She does things for him instead of expecting him to be her unrewarded mechanic, handyman, gardener, cook, therapist, and social worker. Women have taken from him in the past and given nothing back. I was shocked the first time I heard a woman had done something for him, and that says a lot about male-female relations in the United States. My reaction was conditioned by American culture.

A lot of American women are only concerned with what they can get from a man. They seem to see themselves as entitled princesses whose job is to force men to prove, over and over, why they’re worthy of consideration. It’s a little startling when a woman in feminist America does things for you, especially when they fall into taboo categories like cooking and cleaning.

American feminists love to say cooking and cleaning are degrading jobs. They must have no respect for people who make their living doing those things.

I have cooked and cleaned for people a lot. I never thought I should be ashamed of it.

To get back to Mike’s situation, it’s a drag when you realize a woman will let you fix her car, mow her yard, cook her meals, and help her rotten kids with no awareness that she should ever contribute to your happiness. A man knows when a woman sees him as a genie and substitute dad with a built-in ATM.

It’s also not attractive when a woman plays the damsel on the railroad tracks every day. Every man wants to be helpful, but a lot of women don’t want to be helped. They just maintain the victim pose in order to trap men in a constant cycle of white knight rescue errands. The constant appeals for pity make it seem like they never got over it when daddy didn’t show up to see them try out for the pep squad.

We want to hear about your problems when you a) want us to fix them and b) plan to cooperate. We don’t want to sit by your side agreeing that you’re a victim for the rest of your life. Help is better than sympathy, but many women genuinely prefer the latter. Pride, unforgiveness, and dishonesty often win out over a desire to be blessed.

A man wants to think he can make a difference. He doesn’t want to spend 50 years listening to you whine about problems you insist can’t be fixed. If you can’t be helped, why would you want to drag a man down with you, and where is your faith in God? You can’t be a good partner to a Christian man if you insist God won’t change your life.

To digress, I’ll mention a get-together that took place at my house this weekend. I was talking to my friends about the chore of cleaning up my neglected house for their arrival. I mentioned tidying up the bedroom Mike–a frequent visitor–has claimed as his own. I said that when I talked to Rebecca about it, her response was to say, “I should be doing that!” She was disturbed that I was cleaning my own house. She thought she should be cleaning up the bedroom, even though my friend is the one who left Atkins bars on the windowsill and some really interesting hair products on the counter.

Imagine how that would go over with the majority of American women. “You want a sex slave who cleans your house!” No, girls. I do not want a sex slave. If I were that kind of person, I’d find two or three good reliable prostitutes and visit them periodically. I’m just in love with a generous woman who isn’t brainwashed. Some women still take pleasure in things like maintaining a home and raising kids. Some aren’t so insecure they find a supporting role degrading.

Everyone submits to someone. Everyone is supposed to submit to the Holy Spirit. Every man who works for someone else submits to a boss who may or many not be male. We all have to submit to the police and the rest of the government. Male children submit to female teachers and their mothers. Submission is only degrading if you have a bad attitude or the people you submit to abuse you.

Before I was spoken for, I never expected to have a woman who would do the cleaning, and I fully expected anyone I met to be unable to cook well. That being said, I have no problem with assuming a traditional male role for the first time in my life. If she dreams of a traditional female role, fantastic. It’s Biblical, and it makes for an orderly, peaceful relationship in which both spouses are comfortable in their positions. If she changes her mind, we can always adapt.

It’s touching to think a wife would do my laundry and mop floors for me. Even my mother didn’t do those things.

It’s funny, in a world full of military cemeteries full of male bodies and partial male bodies, how everyone thinks men are takers and women are givers.

When the movie Titanic came out, there was no outrage over the scenes in which women and kids got preference when boarding lifeboats. No one ever says males should get reparations because hundreds of thousands of us have died, been wounded, lost their sanity, or suffered economic and social losses while defending America in an all-male military. I didn’t complain when I had to register for the draft and my sister didn’t. No one expects a wife to tackle a burglar while her husband hides under the bed. Traditional sex roles are correct, and they work. That’s why they’re traditional.

Getting back to Mike, I told him my position was that in the event of an engagement, he should put Esther above everyone else in his life. He shouldn’t accommodate people who think their ears might be bruised by her political remarks or that they might not be able to digest their quinoa after hearing about her willingness to do things for him. If conflicts arise, he should generally throw other people, including me, under the bus. This is my policy with Rebecca. I’m fortunate because I have no children and no parents, but if I did, I would happily tell them to get out of my house before I would let them stay and cause marital problems.

I told him Rebecca had ruined me for other women. I said that if she disappeared for some reason, I would be very hard to match up again. I’ve never known anyone like her. We agree about nearly everything. She isn’t high-maintenance. She doesn’t manipulate. She’s not a bridezilla. She has no interest in social climbing or status. She is hard to offend. She’s thoughtful. She is very attached to me. She’s very smart. She’s the strongest, most informed Christian I’ve ever known. It also doesn’t hurt that she has the face of an angel. I don’t know anyone else like that.

Here is what comforted me about our conversation: Mike asked if I had been listening to his conversations with Esther. He said he had been saying the same things about her.

I see God’s hand in all this. It can’t be a coincidence that we are having such similar conversations with two different women at the same time.

I’ve known lots of women in my extremely long life, and many times, I’ve felt I should compromise. People have criticized me a lot because I wouldn’t date this or that person.

I’ve wondered if I should try to work with women who were easily offended, and that includes perhaps 75% of the female population. I’ve felt a lot of pressure to get involved with women who were unattractive to me; these days, men are constantly told they have to be attracted to women who are obese, older than they are, disfigured, not really women, or unappealing for some other reason. Sports Illustrated has started featuring fat ladies, old women, and transvestites, and we’re supposed to lap it up. Why would I buy a soft-porn magazine to look at that?

I completely understand why men paid to see a young Tyra Banks in a bikini. Why should I pay to see unappealing and even repulsive spectacles? I could see it all for nothing at Walmart, on Rupaul’s Drag Race, or at the nearest retirement home.

Are men’s advocates shaming women for not swooning over old, obese, and disabled men? Are they shaming women for their near-universal distaste for short men and Asian men? If so, I haven’t noticed. Maybe Danny DeVito should pose for a special shaming issue of Playgirl. Which is actually aimed at male homosexuals, but I am digressing again.

I compromised and dated an atheist in law school. The relationship had some good points. We enjoyed each other’s company tremendously, for the most part. She was very loyal. I was highly attracted to her. We had intense chemistry. She was deeply in love with me.

It was a stupid idea, doomed to failure. If we had married, the gulf between us would have grown bigger every year. On top of that, she had personality issues that drove me to let her go. I should never have gone near her. It was a bad idea for me, and it was unfair to her. Too bad I didn’t have my older self (or anyone else) to give me good advice.

When you find the right person, you don’t sit around weighing pluses and minuses. You don’t wonder if you can make it work. You know you have what you want. It only happens when God is your matchmaker.

Hearing Mike say he was having the same experiences I was gave me a powerful feeling of peace. It showed me what’s happening in our lives. We didn’t ordain these relationships in our own foolishness. God is with Rebecca and me. I don’t have to worry. He will make it work.

I was right to stay single until I met Rebecca. I was RIGHT, in capital letters. I’m very, very glad I did it. It disturbs me to think what could have happened, had I succeeded in abandoning my principles.

All the people who thought I was too picky were speaking for Satan. As the Bible says, it’s better to live in the corner of a rooftop than in a wide house with a quarrelsome woman. It is LITERALLY better. God wasn’t exaggerating to demonstrate a principle. It’s also very bad to marry a woman who is unsuitable for other reasons.

I would have married a suitable woman a long time ago, had I not turned from God 30 years back. It took God a long time to get me cleaned up for marriage, because I hindered him. I could not have complained had he let me die alone, because I deserved it. Bringing me a beautiful, godly, intelligent, thoughtful woman now is much more than any reasonable man could ask.

My dad drove me crazy, pushing me to get married. A cousin said my relatives, nearly all of whom have had bad marriages, considered the scarcity of women in my life and wondered if I was light in my loafers. No, I was just mistrustful because of a dysfunctional upbringing, and I very rarely saw anyone I was willing to be shackled to. I rarely dated. I made some effort to pursue women who were wrong for me, but my efforts were never all-out, and they didn’t succeed in producing a marriage. God looked out for me.

Rebecca’s case was different. I was on board from day one. I was very clear about my intentions. I pursued her enthusiastically. That was because I had so few reservations. She seemed tailor-made for me. This is what happens when you find someone who meets your criteria.

I’m sorry I was bitter when I was younger. I remember being angry at girls and women for not wanting me. I thought they were shallow. That was pride and self-delusion. I was a terrible marriage prospect. Much less fit for marriage than men who were chosen over me.

Nobody owes it to you to be attracted to you. You know what kind of people get angry at people who reject them? Stalkers. Rapists. If you’re not married, it’s your fault. Your prayer life is inadequate, and you’re too proud to let God correct you. When you blame other people for not being attracted to you, you wrong innocent people. Admitting I lost respect for women simply because they didn’t want me is embarrassing. It proves I had a problem.

There were times when I had legitimate grievances. Sometimes women led me on even though they had no interest in me, and that was wrong, but I forgive them. Everybody sins. I’m no exception.

I’m glad I never played that kind of game with anyone. I’ve been very honest with women who barked up the wrong tree. It didn’t always work, because some women will look you in the face and argue with you when you say things like, “There is no possibility we will ever date,” but I did the right thing.

Rebecca and I are working on visas and travel plans now. Things are moving right along.

It’s good we’re both introverts, and it’s good that I live in an area full of Christians and conservatives. Think how we would be persecuted in a big city, surrounded by ungodly fair-weather friends. I’m an older white American, and she’s a much younger black African. She believes in submission. She insists on doing housework. This weekend, she called me her king in front of my friends. Modern leftist Americans would spontaneously combust around us. I include nominal conservatives who are much more leftist than they think.

We joke about our racial differences. That’s not allowed in America. Sometimes when it’s dark where she is, she jokes about how I can only see her when she smiles, which is actually true. It’s like talking to the Cheshire Cat. How would that go over at a cocktail party in Manhattan? The sword cuts both ways. In Africa, you’re never supposed to let a guest pay for anything, so when she hears I let people go to the grocery without me, she says, “How white of you!”

It’s good we won’t be out and about all that much, drawing fire from insolent, dictatorial, self-righteous ignoramuses who think they have the authority over us. It’s amazing how deluded people with zero authority feel entitled to boss.

In Boston or Berkeley, there are probably paid public servants who do interventions on couples like us.

It’s wonderful how things seem to be taking care of themselves. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster. God is steering and providing the propulsion. I don’t have to do all that much.

This weekend, I thought about how our relationship is turning out. I used to be concerned that I would let my desires for sex and companionship take precedence over my desire for someone to be a partner in my walk with God. Now that we’ve gotten used to each other, I have no concerns. If Rebecca vanished tomorrow, my first thought would be that I had lost my ministry partner. The things I love most about our relationship are the things we do for God. Prayer, prophecy, interpretation, discussion, and supernatural warfare are what matter most to me. That tells me we have a solid foundation. Marriages built on attraction and loneliness are built on sand.

I hope soon I’ll be able to say I just got back from Egypt. Pray for us.