Having Children, For God

RECENTLY, the number of attractive youg ladies on Facebook expresssing undying love of sixty nine year old men and asking for gas money to come visit me has drastically diminshed. What, have I used them all up? Has the United States of Acquisition exhausted its supply, spewed tham all out upon my hapless computer screen and aching heart? Surely not. This is a big country, with hundreds of millions of people, including our fair share of attractive young ladies on the make, lord love 'em. For one thing, I started clicking "accept" on new friend requests with less zeal and frequency, and for another, its been fun, but the game gets old; I seek new amusements, like taking target practice at Trump posters. My salvation is perhaps that I only spent a few thousand dollars, and, I swear, I learned my lesson. Then came Mable, young, attractive, blonde, well turned out, toothy smiley, that clean cut Christian churchy look. She asked all the usual questions, and I answered them. We never got to the gas money; we probably never would. Her intent might have been lasting relationships, or evangelical witnessing, not money. (who am I kidding...). She got stuck on the never married no kids part, which some of them do. In response to the usual question, why have I not gotten married, (yet), I offered my usual response: "According to my mother, its because I'm smart". The low rate at which they respond to that indicates that either they don't understand the words, cannot conceive of a mother who doesn't want grand children, are stunned, or are in bad marriages and just plain agree with me. Mabel responded. "God says that he wants you to be plentiful, fruitful, bountiful, etc., reproduce, and fill up the Earth with his people". Yes, she actuallly said something like that. Mabel is a great example of why I keep doing this. I already have enough material for several books, some of which might get written. "We've already done that" I retorted, quite accurately. "There are more than eight billion people in the world. What more could God possibly expect from us?". I think I said something about what I want to do being important to me, no disrespect to God, about my preference concerning kids mattering too. I quoted Goethe, as always. "It is beyond me how anyone can believe that God speaks to us in books and stories..If the world and our hearts do not directly reveal to us..." That quote. She laughed, which raised a red flag. How could God possibly speak other than in a book?! I went on some, for some god forsaken reason.The bible was written by people,as all books are. Of the seven thousand or so books I have read, the Bible is easily the most violent and obscene. I love God, and I love Jesus. but I despise the bible, as a "sacred scripture, but find it interesting, as an example of ancient, primitive culture...All that."You certainly have some strong opinions", she opined. I allowed as that was quite correct, thinking it very "white" of her to give credit where it is due. I asked her if she understood what Geothe was saying. "Yeah, sure". "Your response seems to indicate otherwise", I said. Then, the deal breaker. "you sound weird", she actually said. Goethe.. weird. Oh boy... There was no longer any doubt. I was communicating with a very young, attractive blonde,(I had her picture), churchy Christian lady, with a pedestrian education, a real air head. My suspicions confirmed, "We call people "weird" when they don't conform to our biased preconceived expectations of them", said I. "Its easier to call somebody weird that to take the time and expend the effort to understand their point of view". She agreed with that, and identifeid me as an "unbeliever". "I'm a believer", I said, Neil Diamond and the Monkeys crooning in my head. "Everybody has beliefs". "I didn't call you weird", she said. "I said that you 'sound' weird". Finally! The semantics thing! "Well, I think you "sound weird" telling me that God wants me to have children", I typed in. That was the last word. There was nothing more to say. There would be no online romance, and no gas money. "Ok I'm sorry bye". Mable was gone, out of my life forever, before our friendship had even begun. "No problem", I said. I will always wonder what our children would have been like...