A crowd of good-looking lads and lasses sat at a bar, dressed in sweaters, funky socks, and ironical hats. A few smoked roll-your-owns. A few more sipped drinks (coke and rum, martinis, and microbrew). The girls outnumbered the boys, and the boys, instead of cashing in on this, leaning into the table to shout down the blushing eardrums of their friends, sat with crossed ankles and listened to the wafting jazz. The girls stragically vied for their attention… gorgeous girls, touseled blondes, happy brunettes, pale blue-eyed creatures and limpid brown-eyed gossips. Something rang hollow… and yes, there it was; the guys still just sat there lackadaisically, like they were used to it and could expect it for the rest of their lives until they decided to reach out and take whichever of the girls they chose. From across the room the scenario had ConservativeChristianese stamped all over it.
On the way home persons A, B and C griped over this phenomenon thusly:
A: Blah. Did you notice that? Blahhh! Non-Christian guys at least are chivalrous.
B: I know, I hate it, but it’s a vicious cycle that you have to play.
A: Well, I don’t want to play it any more.
C: Yeah. I think Christian guys really just don’t know what to do. I mean, what are you going to do?
A: Seriously…
Ok, petty ranting aside, there is still something a bit amiss. The way (in my humble and probably ignorant opinion) a Christian guy typically sees courtship is like a game of chess. He waits until he has been checkmated by one of these lowly pawns, all the others which he has sidestepped and eliminated, and then he admits defeat. The way a non-Christian guy sees courtship is like a game of ping-pong. He serves, she returns, no hard feelings if one of them loses. I mean, hey, it’s ping-pong.
In a way this culture of avoidance is even worse than Victorian constipation, because in Victorian times, it was acceptable to dance with, escort, and speak with women you were not engaged or related to. Now, however, any invitation, however minor, is seen as pursuit; any slight brushing of the fingers in passing a pen across the asile as sexual. This could just be me being paranoid, but… if most of the female Christian population is paranoid about this, maybe we have something to be paranoid about. So, we walk the line between waiting around and trying to get some idiot’s attention, and meanwhile, half a dozen marginally intelligent, good-looking, but spiritually retarded boys are asking for our number.
It occurs to me that almost every Christian girl I know who has dated anyone has had some sort of involvement with a spiritually retarded male. Girls I never thought would look at someone unworthy of their charms have spent years with such men. Why? Because these guys actually give them the time of day. Not that we’re bitter, mind you.
Botkin Creative 