Deserve’s Got Nothing to do With it

I am now 8 days into my experience as a passport bro whose wife has finally made it to the States.

“Passport bro” has a very loose definition. Fundamentally, it means any American man who passed up American women and married a foreigner, for any reason or combination of reasons. It’s a pejorative term, like “cradle-robber” (also me) and “gold digger.”

If you really want to make American women who don’t know anything about you furious, marry a woman who is younger or foreign. Many American women won’t care at all. The rest will hate you and your wife, as though you were personally responsible for the unfulfilled, much-deserved lives they and their awful friends, sisters, and mothers live.

Total strangers have said my wife was too young and pretty for me. WHOO HOO! I certainly hope so.

One lady who disapproves of us had a great husband she abused and abandoned, and she ended up bitter and alone. As an elderly, lonely leftist who will die single, she still feels qualified to offer marriage advice.

Come to think of it, a lot of female celebrities who tell young women what decisions to make are alone, miserable, whorish, addicted to drugs, and in some cases, mentally ill. “Don’t get married.” “Have kids out of wedlock.” “Make your sons wear dresses.” “Name your kids things like ‘Bronx’ and ‘Maddox.'”

Why do so many people take advice from individuals whose lives are dumpster fires?

Here’s something interesting: men don’t care at all about women marrying outside their countries. We don’t care about elderly women marrying younger, better-looking men, either, not that it happens much outside of Hollywood. We don’t care. We don’t think about it. Why the difference?

Women, on the other hand, get angry when they hear younger, prettier women they don’t know married old men they also don’t know and may not even want.

If any crabby single women I could never have married are reading, it was never a choice between you and someone prettier and younger. The choice was 1. someone I wanted or 2. being alone. If I were willing to marry someone who repelled me in order to avoid being alone, I’d have grandchildren by now.

A Jamaican girl I knew told me about rent-a-dreads. These are gigolos who roam the beaches of Jamaica. Single white women fly to Jamaica to find them, and they pay them for sex. I thought the story was funny, but I didn’t call the women predators or perverts, which is what many rejected women call passport bros.

I didn’t resent Jamaican man-whores for snapping up all the miserable middle-aged white women I didn’t want. Men generally don’t think that way. Black American men tend to be possessive of black women as a whole, but the rest of us are different.

Women are extremely hostile toward each other. That’s the problem. They are incredibly competitive for men and everything else. They have a zero-sum attitude. “What helps you hurts me.” This is why they can’t stand each other. It’s one of the weirdest aspects of human nature.

I’ve noticed that many women get upset when other women do well in any area of life. Women use this trait to torment each other.

I know a single woman who got upset when I mentioned Valentine’s Day and also when I spoke of a male friend who had a new romance. She let me know I was not to speak of these things. That was wild. If she had developed a wonderful relationship and gotten married, my friend and I would have been very happy about it.

Another person’s success isn’t your failure. If another person’s prayers are answered, yours may be answered, too.

I have an aunt who used to give my single sister endless, glowing updates on her grandchildren, all of whom are prodigies and superheroes, much like her son, who had to settle for one of the world’s worst law schools and went on to do mindless work as a low-level prosecutor who refers methheads to rehab all day. My understanding is that he is so lazy, he refused to do anything about the leaking roof on the house she gave him, so she had to have it replaced. Supposedly, she is willing the house to his kids instead of him because she thinks he won’t take care of it. He’s not the guy she held him out to be.

I never thought much about my aunt’s stories, but my sister told me she was telling them because she wanted to make the rest of us miserable. Women understand women. In my sister’s case, it seems to have worked.

When my aunt used to tell me whoppers about her grandchildren, all I thought was, “Wow, this is boring.”

Well, that’s not all I thought. I also thought, “How can she not know I don’t believe this stuff?”

Everyone in her family was the light of the world. Her son was a philosopher and the new Leibniz (a name he would have to look up). Her daughter was going to be Miss Kentucky. Her son-in-law could pick musical instruments up and play them without lessons. Her grandsons had x-ray vision, at least one could fly, and their fingerpainting had attracted the attention of the National Gallery and Livermore labs.

If I had to guess, these kids aren’t extremely bright. They’re probably smart; somewhere in the pleasant intelligence band most lawyers come from. I don’t know them, but I am qualified to guess because I know my aunt.

She told me her son had been admitted by the University of Michigan Law School (top 10), and then I found out it was WESTERN Michigan, AKA the Cooley Law School, generally held to be the single worst law school in the US. No exaggeration. It’s famous. Instead of the top 10, he was admitted to #199 out of 199.

If you can fog a mirror, you’re in. Michael Cohen is a Cooley grad.

If there had ever been any evidence these kids were brilliant or even just Mensa material, I would have heard about it. Early and often. She worked very hard to turn dubious anecdotes into proof of transcendent genius, so if an actual test score had popped up, it would be on a billboard.

She bragged about her daughter’s second husband, the anaesthesiologist. Turns out he’s really a NURSE. She took a respected profession that looks very good to most people and made it look like an utter failure the family was trying to hide. Thanks to my aunt, I never think of him as a accomplished nurse anaesthetist, which is how I would see him had she told the truth. I think of him as a guy who couldn’t get into medical school.

For years, I thought he was a doctor. My aunt used that word.

He’s probably a fantastic person, but his unpaid publicist is not doing him any favors.

She told me her daughter and the doctor lived in a historic mansion among millionaires. One day I was thinking about all the BS I had heard, so I got curious and looked them up. They have a very nice but ordinary house worth considerably less than a million. No NBA star will ever want it; I’ll put it that way. It would seem like a wonderful house to me, except I was expecting Mar-a-Lago.

Her second husband’s granddaughter managed to make it to the first round of one of those talent-search shows several years ago. My aunt got to sit in the audience, so her sans-microphone face was on TV for less than the length of a bull ride. She got to meet Jim Stafford or Shabba Doo or whoever it was that hosted the show. I, a person who hadn’t watched network TV regularly in maybe 15 years, got to hear about that. You would think the entire family had performed a Super Bowl halftime show. My best guess: the girl went back to singing in small bars, like 99% of professional pop musicians.

Let’s see. Just now, I managed to remember enough of her name to find her on Google. Her Instagram fan page has 45 followers. I think you get that many spam followers just for signing up. Last update: two years before coronavirus. So she quit. Well, that’s smart. A lot of stubborn people of modest gifts spend their autumn years playing in roadhouses. Maybe she went to college. And studied nursing. Another doctor in the making.

To get back on topic, men like women. Women like men. Men like men. Women can’t get along with women. This is why lesbians have the shortest, rockiest relationships of any group. It must be hard being a lesbian, because women want long relationships and security more than men, and lesbians fight like crazy and break up over and over.

I guess when there are two people in a relationship, and both give the cold shoulder at once, which is what many women do, it turns into a death spiral. A man will go to an angry woman and try to start a conversation. A woman will sulk behind a locked door until the sun dies.

I had an eccentric history teacher named Morgan Kelly, and he lied all the time, but he told us one thing that was true. He said the Chinese character for “woman” could mean different things. Used once, it meant “woman.” Used twice, it meant “quarrel.” Too funny. The web says modern Chinese people have stopped using the quarrel symbol, which shows the truth hit home in some quarters.

Many women lose their minds when men they used to be involved with date or get married, or even when they just go on with life and enjoy it.

I am enjoying life. I’m not doing it to torment anyone, though.

I say that as a joke, but it wouldn’t be funny if there weren’t some ugly truths behind it. There are people who live to brag, not to make themselves feel good, but to depress and humiliate others. If Americans were anything like the people they pretend to be on Facebook, we could legitimately be said to be the master race.

Now that I think about it, I guess I have hurt some people very badly with my few small successes in life. When something good happens to me, I never think, “This will really break so-and-so’s heart!” But some hearts must have been broken. It wouldn’t necessarily take much. It used to break my middle-aged sister’s heart when I rode in the front seat of the car instead of the back. Made her furious.

Envy is pretty bad. It’s Satan’s sin. “I will be like the most high.” He hates God for being above him. He hates us for being born later, being smaller, weaker, less beautiful, and less intelligent, and being promoted above him while he waits to roast and squeal in the lake of fire. People who are envious wish others ill and try to harm them when those they envy are blameless. Envy is the heart of leftism.

Life as a passport bro is good so far. It’s not like there are any big surprises. Before my wife arrived, we had spent around 6 weeks together abroad, and we had a practice of doing video chat twice a day.

If there is anything disappointing about our new arrangement, it’s that it feels like we have been living here together for decades. You would think we would both be ecstatic because we were finally together in our house, but it was more like a couple who had been married for 20 years came home after separate vacations.

Some changes are requiring mental adjustments. I can’t do everything I used to do. For example, I have been informed I get out of the car too fast. My routine is park, neutral, shut down, open door, jump out. I would guess this takes under two seconds. Now it’s neutral, shut down, stare at wife until makeup is done.

I am also not permitted to wear T-shirts with holes in them. I did not see that coming. And I have to keep an eye on the trash to see which treasured items the wife has thrown out. She threw out the boxes for some cameras and accessories, and I had to rescue them. She threw out my saddle soap!

I’m becoming my grandfather. My grandmother took some of his clothes and put them on a scarecrow, and he drove to the field and took them back down.

My wife threw out some jeans that had bleach spots on them. Who does that?

My beloved queen-sized mattress is on the way out. It’s from Costco. It’s perfect for me. It’s a joy. Back in my fornication days, I never had problems sharing a queen-sized mattress. Now, I am told it’s way too small. Yeah; trying staying on your side. How about that? That’s what I’ll tell her. One of these days.

I fixed a beautiful stuffed turkey on Thursday, and she refused to eat the stuffing. Some kind of mental block I don’t comprehend. I had not been aware that stuffing phobias existed.

You would think affluent people would be more likely to have food phobias because they would be sheltered, but it seems the opposite is true. I’ve noticed that people who grew up poor are more likely to have hangups about food. I dated a girl who could not eat anything resembling a sausage, and she also refused to go near Chinese food.

My master bath was very clean before my wife got here, except the shower needed a good application of scum remover in some areas. She’s in there now anyway, sterilizing the whole room.

On the up side, I don’t do dishes or laundry any more. PASSPORT BRO FOR LIFE!

Also, she is willing to get a recliner couch. That’s every man’s dream. I think they’re a little tacky, but when you sit on one, you forget about all that. I don’t think I would be able to make myself buy one if I lived here alone, because I would think, “God gave you this nice house, and you put a recliner couch in the living room.” But if she’s for it, I think I can forgive myself.

We went to three furniture stores yesterday, primarily to look for a kitchen table that isn’t available at Home Depot. I would guess we saw 200 recliners. I was shocked. I have a couple of recliners already. I got my dad a cheap Chinese lift recliner when he was dealing with dementia, and I got a big Barcalounger for the upstairs rec room. I looked around my area before going online, but all I saw was a disappointing La-Z-Boy store. I didn’t check the regular furniture stores. That’s when I found out how popular recliners are here.

We laugh all the time. We are getting a lot of prayer in. She gets along with Marvin. Things are going to be okay. The rest of my life may be very trying for envious people.