Women Root for Zambian Fiancee and Me…to Fail

It’s a strangely cool, overcast day here in Northern Florida, and for some reason, when I walk outside, I smell burning coal. Wonder what’s up with that.

Today Rhodah and I worked on the ill-conceived government form that will eventually lead to her getting a fiancee visa. I hate government forms. It seems like they never work. They ask questions that have no answers, or the answers can’t be determined by a normal person with normal resources, or the answers won’t fit in the tiny boxes.

The single biggest obstacle to my marriage is a series of boxes in which I’m supposed to write Rhodah’s current and former addresses. Zambian addresses don’t fit in American boxes. A typical American address has three lines. First line: the recipient’s name. Second line: a street, a house or building number, and maybe an apartment number. Third line: city, state, ZIP. A Zambian address can have an infinite number of lines, and instead of a logical model involving a number and a street name, it may say something like, “Corner of Mboogoo Boulevard and Mumbweezi Drive, Third Floor.”

We are trying to jam the addresses into the form as well as we can. I think the answer is to append some pages and use them to write out addresses just the way Zambians do.

I don’t know what the government plans to do with these addresses. Rhodah says you can’t look Zambians up by their past addresses. They sort of wander from place to place without leaving much of a record.

Some time tomorrow, I expect to come up with a final version of the form. Then we’ll send it wherever it has to go, with however much money the government wants.

In the meantime, we are getting cynical comments from the meow chorus.

My friend Mike has told his friends about Rhoda and me, and that means the friends’ wives know. The ladies have decided Rhoda is a) too young, and b) too pretty for me. They think this proves she’s a gold-digger. Their theory appears to be that I will learn my lesson soon. I guess they think God will show me I should have married someone bitter and old.

This is exactly what I expected to hear from older American women. I should also add that it’s music to my ears. What man wouldn’t want to hear that his fiancee was too young and pretty for him?

Here’s a funny thing about modern life: for about 60 years, people with heads full of manure have been telling us not to believe things which are clearly true. Want to learn about men, women, and marriage? Don’t watch Jerry Springer or Dr. Phil. Don’t watch Oprah. She’s about 70 and still hasn’t been able to squeeze a proposal or a family out of her boyfriend. Instead, watch an episode of Leave it to Beaver or I Love Lucy. People used to know how human beings thought and felt. They used to know what worked. Modern people are stupid by comparison. They can’t even figure out what sex they are.

Here’s an old-timey, sexist generalization which is true: American women tend to feel entitled. They also tend to be highly mercenary. They tend to be misandrists. This is why so many American men are interested in foreign women.

I used to joke about marrying a foreign girl. I said I would to go a Thai bride website and place an order for delivery. In retrospect, I should have been serious about it. I knew the pool of American women was not the best place to fish, but I didn’t have the courage of my convictions, so I didn’t take the plunge and look abroad, to countries where women actually like men and want them to assume their proper roles in marriage.

About three months ago, I signed up for an interracial dating site, and after about a week had passed, I had met a wonderful Zambian woman, and I already felt it was likely we would be married. I suppose that makes me sound like a desperate man who would dash down the aisle with the first woman who winked at me, but that’s not true. If it were true, I wouldn’t be single at my advanced age. I have rejected a large number of women over the years, and that includes women who were attractive and who would have seemed like good catches to most men. I have been lonely and discouraged at times, but I have never been desperate. When I came across Rhodah, I didn’t think, “This may be my last chance; I better do whatever she wants.” I thought, “This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. This is effortless. This time, I am not going to run.”

I opened the door to foreign women, and a keeper jumped right into my lap, right away. Maybe it’s a lesson for other American men.

There are a lot of success stories out there, coming from American men and foreign women. Failure stories are a lot less common. You can find a lot of American men out there, praising their foreign girls. There aren’t that many men complaining that they were duped and used. Something to think about.

Anyway, here is some more non-woke, old-fashioned wisdom about women. First, they all hate each other. This is really true, although I guess I exaggerate a little. Women are extremely competitive when it comes to men, and they resent other women who might land the fish they want. They take it very, very personally. They harbor white-hot malice toward the competition. Women will actually mourn when male celebrities get married; men are not like that. Second, they also resent it when men who belong to “their” dating pool start to look into other pools. It makes them feel threatened and powerless. They tend to feel the men are breaking an unwritten rule; unwritten because it doesn’t exist.

If you marry a foreign women, American women who find out about it are likely to be angry at both of you and to wish you the worst. If your wife is younger and better-looking than they are, it’s even worse. Your wife becomes a gold-digging tramp, and you become a pathetic, delusional fathead who prefers denial to admitting no attractive woman could ever want him.

No one will ever tell you you’re unattractive in order to help you. It’s always manipulation.

Here’s a truth many people, male and female, will not want to hear: fierce attraction and intense love between dissimilar people are as common as dirt. Here’s another truth: if someone who doesn’t want you takes up with a person who is more attractive than you, and then things don’t work out, it won’t make you more attractive to the person who rejected you.

If you’re unattractive to me, it’s not because women who are more attractive exist. It’s because you’re unattractive to me. If everyone else in the world disappeared, I would still not want to marry you. I would work with you in order to survive. We could live close to each other in individual post-apocalyptic shelters. I still wouldn’t want to see the inside of your bedroom.

I always think of Budweiser when I think of women. If all beer production ended except for the production of Budweiser, I wouldn’t start drinking it. I would quit drinking beer forever, because Budweiser is disgusting. Having no beer at all is much better than drinking Budweiser. I’m not going to marry Budweiser just because I can’t get Guinness.

A wife isn’t a necessity, like food. When good food isn’t available, you will eventually get so desperate, you will be thrilled to eat things like cockroaches and lizards. It doesn’t work that way with women. When an attractive woman isn’t available, you still won’t want the unattractive ones.

You shouldn’t resent other people over their romantic desires. It’s none of your business. You should try to get what you want instead of telling other people what they should want.

May-September romances have existed since the creation of man. There is nothing abnormal about them. What’s abnormal is hoping two people who love each other will divorce in misery, just so you can think God punished the husband for not wanting you or your type.

Rhodah is wonderful. I love her without reservation. We get along beautifully. We have the same beliefs. We enjoy the same things. The bond of affection between us is very powerful. I can’t go into detail without getting into TMI territory, but our relationship overflows with warmth and a desire to be close.

I hit the jackpot. People who live in a different reality–people who didn’t let God choose their mates–will think we’re lying to ourselves, because that’s what they would have to do in order to end up in a situation like ours. They would have mates God didn’t select, so they would have trouble, and that’s what they expect us to have. The reality of blessed people is not like the reality of the cursed, so when they interpret our circumstances according to their paradigm, they’re wrong. As the book of John says, “the light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.”

I’m not watching my step. I’m not pacing myself. I’m not hanging onto an insurance policy. When I hold her, I hold her, all the way. I don’t think about betrayal and alimony. I let my cares go. When you see what you want, you know it.

Now that I’m an official “swirler,” meaning a person involved in a black-white relationship, I’m learning stuff. One thing of interest: marriages between black women and white men are the most stable kind. The divorce rate is very low. On the other hand, black men and white women are more likely than average to divorce.

Why is this? I think it may be because black women are the most feminine women, and white men are the most masculine men. Masculinity and femininity are drawn to each other. They complement each other. Some people might argue that Asian women are the most feminine, but they tend to have a hard edge, and they can be emasculating. Some may say black men are the most masculine, but think about it: they are more likely to let women support them, they are much less likely to stick around and be real fathers, they tend to have a feminine obsession with their appearance, and in relationships, they expect to be pursued. White men are more likely to pursue wives, marry their women, raise their kids, pay the bills, and protect their families. This is just fact.

When black women let their femininity out, it’s almost overpowering.

I don’t think anyone is unaware that white men are looking for women who will let them be masculine, and I know for a fact that black women are looking for men who will let them relax and be feminine. If you look around, you will find them online, complaining that they have to be masculine in order to survive. They hate it.

Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but it’s true, and it’s interesting: white men who marry black women tend to get women who are very attractive, but black men who marry white women tend to end up with ladies whose beauty isn’t their long suit. I don’t know why this is true, but it is. If you go to Youtube and search for videos about interracial couples, you’ll see one beautiful black woman after another, but the white wives are generally less gorgeous. Oddly, the same dynamic seems to be at work among white women who marry Muslim men.

I don’t know why I’m writing about black women. Rhodah isn’t “black” in the American sense of the word. Her ancestors were never slaves. They stayed in Africa. She also doesn’t have the cultural issues that can cause problems when black women marry white men. By that I mean she dresses well, speaks well, isn’t overly sexually provocative, and doesn’t let her emotions run away with her. She also doesn’t resent white people. She doesn’t think I need to be reeducated. I don’t have to worry that her friends will come over and eat my food while telling me I should be ashamed of my race.

I don’t want to reeducate her, either. She’s already exactly what I want. She knows the Bible up one side and down the other. She loves prayer and Bible study. She hates leftism. She’s very warmhearted. She’s thoughtful. She’s helpful. She’s funny.

When we’re married, I will never have to go to a Juneteenth parade and risk becoming a crime victim while I virtue-signal. I will never have to celebrate Kwanzaa or pretend it’s a real holiday. I will never have to pretend Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton are real reverends. I won’t have to see CNN in my living room. I’ll never have to stifle my real opinion of BLM.

I should prepare for problems with other people. I don’t foresee much trouble from whites. I had a black girlfriend a long time ago, and white people didn’t bother us. Black men may become a problem. They are very, very open to dating white women, but many of them are extremely hostile to BWWM relationships. I suppose black men and older white women will resent us more than anyone.

One great thing about my life is that the nearest ghetto is…I was about to say it was x miles away, but the truth is I don’t even know where it is. Orlando? That’s over an hour away. Ocala has no ghettos. There are pockets where relatively poor black people are concentrated, but there is nothing like Miami’s Liberty City or New York’s Bedford-Stuyvesant, where people like me can’t walk down the sidewalk at night in safety. There are no ghettos anywhere near me, so Rhodah and I won’t have many interactions with the kind of people who would be likely to threaten us. Interracial marriage is very, very common here. I don’t think people think much about it.

Miami is now mostly ghetto. That’s really something.

I doubt I’ll ever be in a place where I’m likely to be abused for holding a black woman’s hand, and I doubt Rhodah will ever see black-on-black crime up close.

I don’t think Rhodah would know what to do in a ghetto. She would be even more out of place than I would. Zambia is nothing like Harlem. I suppose that’s why Rhodah is such a girly girl. She never lived in a place where she had to grow a hard, masculine shell.

I don’t deserve my blessings. I ran from God and delayed all the good things he wanted to do for me. It’s amazing that he was still willing to bless me with such a fine lady. I hope I can be a huge blessing to her as well. If you’re still young, learn from my problems. Stay close to God, pray in tongues every day, submit, and pray for help in finding a wife. God is still in the matchmaking business, and when he comes through, you will be amazed.