How Relationships Work and How They Don’t
Only Moses could walk around in pajamas, talk to freethinking philosophers, argue with theologians, talk about the Virgin Birth, flirt with the cute girl at the coffee shop (being flatly turned down!) all in a matter of minutes. But even such people have problems.
For one, cute girls at the coffee shop don’t care about whether Jesus came from Mary or from the other Mary; in fact, so long as He came from Heaven, then everything is okay. The Holy Spirit did it. Two, most people don’t care if you’re cool and wear pajamas. In fact, what do pajamas have to do with the Virgin Birth? Exactly. Three, why in Frankenstein’s name would you be talking to brainwashed freethinking philosophers if you’re flirting with cute girls? And, on top of that, why quote Scripture in the middle of hot pursuit? (I mean “hot chick pursuit,” of course.)
Believe me, in my dreams I ask myself those same questions. Why theology when you can be talking sexology? Why the Virgin Birth when you can be having fun making that future birth happen? Of course, we usually don’t like to involve the Song of Songs when doing religious studies.
My problems all began when I became interested in politics. I wanted to infiltrate society with some good old “cleansing factors.” But to do politics, one must be devoted to the thing politics tries to control: people. Old fashioned homosapiens. Society and politicians go hand in hand. Just like Jesus and the Virgin Birth. You can’t have one without the other; either Jesus was born of a Virgin Mary or He was not born at all. You see, the problem isn’t so much that I am bad with people’”in fact, I’ve been told that I’m quite good, very good’”it’s that I suck at doing politics the politically correct way. And this whole politics thing isn’t just about me and the One World Government’”it’s about me and the girl next door. I mean, how are you supposed to communicate highly-condensed, intellectually-charged philosophical formulas into a girl that is drop dead gorgeous? You can’t, in theory, expect to get beauty and brains. It’s like trying to get both a Muslim slut and a Christian Nun all in one package. It simply cannot be done. Or so I was told. By my freethinking philosophers, of course. (I never really did figure out whether they called themselves “freethinkers” because they freely chose to think or because their thinking was free; namely, priceless.) I experienced a crash in my thinking. Some computer geeks would call it a “glitch”; my fellow male nurses would call it a “brain fart.” Whatever you will, I was stuck counting the infinite numbers that occurred after 3.14 pi. My mathematically-logical brain would never solve the pi problem nor would it ever figure out the correlation between beauty and brains. (There is none.)
One of my sophisticated friends is a wannabe marriage and family therapist. His problems are closely related to mine: he is an unmarried, single bachelor who does not have kids. (Emphasis on “bachelor,” “single,” and “unmarried.”) Unfortunately, he is also an uncontaminated Christian virgin practicing abstinence until marriage’”or so I think’”just like me! So here’s Pandora’s Box which contained the following question: how does a single, virgin guy, with no kids, teach married people, sexually active, with children, how to solve problems?? I mean, isn’t that like the greatest paradox of the century? Why didn’t the freakin’ Pharisees pose that question to Jesus?
Only recently have I realized that I am both screwed and in bad hands! God da–! What do you do when theology is coming out of your ears and love songs are pouring out of your mouth. Err — that was a bad analogy. Correction: love songs pouring forth from the lush, romantic gardens of my tropically-exotic heart. There. That sounds better. I was so busy trying to be poetic’”and I am a poet’”but I forgot that this is a theological writing being presented to my boring, old professor at Yale who teaches Pauline Eschatology 525. (I heard he picks his nose while grading our papers…pleasantly satisfying!) But I was not turning in a paper, or was I? And you, the reader, have a fat chance at getting theologically brainwashed reading my mundane ramblings. So beware. Boo.
Back to my friend’”the soon-to-be-famous sex therapist, marriage therapist, family therapist, kid therapist, whatever therapist’”who isn’t married and who has no children. I assumed, for a while now, that I was in good hands. For the longest time, I thought that beauty and brains go, to an extent, hand in — foot. But even hand in foot wasn’t so bad, right? At least all of the body parts are there — or so I thought —
Nonetheless, I realized that relationships, politics, and beauty had almost nothing in common. Beauty is for the front page of People magazine; relationships are for grandmas and grandpas; and politics is for people who don’t know how to interact with people’”so they theorize about how to do that all day long.
My friend, the marriage therapist, was in the same boat as me. He didn’t know if he was going to get married’”ever’”nor did he know if he really liked girls that much. I mean, once you know everything about those creatures, don’t they sort-of become boring to you? At least, that was my theory. I had many more theories, of which, I am sure, the cute girl next to you, yeah, the one reading that relationship cure book, yeah, that’s my book (with my theories!). Umm, where was I? Oh, yes, my friend and how he likes pajamas or — Wait, that was me in the pajamas. (He’s not that cool — yet.) Anyways, my friend basically cracked the female mind. (With my help, of course.) However, we are stuck now: what do we do with the leftovers? (The things left after you “crack” the nut — ) He thinks that females need to be won with patience, I, on the other hand, argue for a solid ride-in: Enter Prince Charming.
I think that a Prince must be both competent and confident; he must ride in with force and beauty. And patience is totally not cool. A gentleman knows his place and must carry some weight of authority. Oops! I forgot that the women’s rights movement passed through post-modern America. Nevertheless, a man gets the girls with brilliance.
The problem is that I tried my “brilliance” out in the real world. And, to be blunt, it was a horrible nightmare. (Except that it didn’t happen at night.)
It was wonderful summer morning, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and on the computer was Moses sitting talking to some cute girl on Facebook in his white Hanes underwear (borrowed, of course, from Dad). (If you can’t fill your Dad’s shoes, you will never fill his underwear!) I was all grown up now and I was experiencing life firsthand.
Out there, in the cold desert lands of Facebook, I was, like a Vietnam soldier, zooming in on my target. The situation was horribly bleak, but, since I had a name to live up to (Holy freakin’ Moses!), I was giving this my best (sniper) shot. So, one comment after another I got a girl’s attention.
And this is where the story gets bad. Wince. I got a little bit too much attention.
My dear friend, the marriage therapist, told me not to do this. I mean, what’s wrong with telling a girl that she is pretty, right? Harmless. Sheesh.
No. Not really. Because, you see, girls raised in America are different than the rest of the human species populating Planet Earth (aka Pangaea). Girls, here, in this country, don’t like compliments. They think that one-night stands do not invade personal property, but compliments do. (I miss the days when the man asked for the daughters hand from the father.)
I wish Jesus was here. He would figure something out with all of this gibberish.
Oh, yeah, the ending of the story’” I forgot to state the obvious’”I even gave it a new name: Facebook Divorce. It’s like divorce except between so-called Facebook “friends.” Most girls in America would pass over a one night stand and think lightly of it; others, find a harmless compliment as offensive as the Fires of Hell. Oh well.
I guess the marriage therapist was right: don’t even click “like” on some of these females who put pictures on Facebook.
(Note to Male Facebook Users: If the picture contains a male in it, don’t click “like,” you will be called a homosexual; if the picture contains a female, don’t click “like,” you will be labeled a stalker; if the picture contains someone younger than 18, definitely DON’T click “like”‘”even if it’s your own kid’”you will be labeled a pedophile. Welcome to postmodern American culture: where you are guilty until proven innocent.)
Except for all of those girls who find the Facebook “like button” atrocious, most women like it. Therefore, if the stakes are high, the pursuit is worth it: go get ‘˜em! (I am kidding.)
My friend was right, but only to an extent: who wants a relationship with an over reactive and paranoid lady? Exactly. (All of a sudden it matters not if she is beautiful-ish.)
Anyhow, when all is said and done, there still remain leftovers. Is communication really the key to a successful relationship? Is differentiation the real thing? Self-validated intimacy better tasting than other-validated intimacy? Is sex really possible for a nun?
Except for the last question, we still had plenty of “leftovers” left after we “cracked” the female mind’”which means, in other words, that we never really cracked it in the first place. But it was a good feeling when maintaining our illusion (or delusion, if you will).
As for my friend, I have no doubts about it: marriage will happen. Between him and Christ, of course. As for me, well, would you, the reader, have any doubts about it? I mean, look at this horrible writing I wrote and keep in mind my politically incorrect ideas. Choose your answer wisely.
Would someone really date a theologian? Would someone really date someone who is pro-life, anti-homosexual-everything, anti-contraceptive, and pro-happiness? No, of course not. But, speaking theologically, I’ve had the hottest date ever: Jesus. And, guess what, who wouldn’t want to date Jesus?
— Like, this one time, I take Him to Olive Garden and we choose a table that is right across from Billy Gates and his wife. Billy is busy paying the huge bills for his dinner and his drinks. We, on the other hand, sit down and order water’”get this’”H2O. So they bring the glasses of water over and BAM! Jesus turns them into fine Italian wine and then He — (and so the story continues — )
End of the matter:
(1) Seek truth and goodness. Expect none of it in return.
(2) Pray that Jesus may guide you as you seek a relationship, not with that cute and brainless chick, but with the Eternal One.
(3) Don’t do anything I’ve done. Or said I’ve done.