You know, that idiot Alfredo was right! I thought. There’s nothing in this world more pleasing to the eye than a pious woman kneeling before the altar, before an icon!
I badly needed a woman, and I was thirty-three—the age Jesus had been when He was crucified.
For about six months, ever since I’d made peace with God, I’d been looking for—and had found—a new confessor. He was the very monk who had once led me to my former confessor’s grave. The man was blessed with grace, and he had a gentle gaze. His voice was soothing. He reminded me of my psychiatrist!
One by one, I had confessed all my sins to him, and he had neither damned me nor recoiled in horror. So I took heart and began treading the path of salvation with greater zeal. I stopped slacking off. During the day, I went to work—I had found another construction site—and I spent my afternoons studying the Bible and other holy books.
At my new job, I didn’t swear at anyone anymore, so no one fired me. The time had come to keep my mouth shut and bow my head a little, as befits any humble Christian. I got along famously with my foreman and always minded my own business.
I no longer searched for pornography on the internet, but for spiritual guidance. I prayed in the morning, the moment I jumped out of bed. I prayed fervently before sitting down to eat. I prayed fearfully at night while staring at my bed. And, most importantly, I never missed the Holy and Divine Liturgy on Sundays.
I had no more doubts: I had rediscovered the Way, the Truth, and the Life!
Still, something was missing. I needed a woman as pure and pious as I was. I could walk the Path holding her hand, couldn’t I? What kind of happiness is it if you don’t share it?
And then I had a genuine revelation! It was a Sunday, I was in church, and this was what I said to myself:
Yeah, Alfredo was right! There’s nothing more beautiful and pure in this world than a woman kneeling in church before an icon.
I needed a shy woman, pure as an angel—not some painted-up whore from the internet.
You don’t find a real woman in a nightclub! You don’t find her in a disco where Satan roars and bellows! You don’t find her flaunting her tits on a poolside lounger! A thousand times no!
I looked around wide-eyed at the saints on the walls and up at the ceiling. God had brought me to exactly the right place, and the miracle was about to happen: I was going to find HER! It was the will of the Lord, so I shuddered, fell to my knees, and thought with a thrill:
I’ll be damned if I don’t marry the first chick who walks through the church door!
An old crone of about seventy came in, wearing a long headscarf and dressed all in black.
Except for this one, Lord! She’s the same age as my mother!
Then a little girl of about nine came in.
Forgive Your servant, Lord! I thought, resting my forehead against a pillar. Be good and send me one a little riper!
The granite pillar was cold. It was painted from top to bottom with angels brawling with devils.
I turned my head. A woman in her thirties had come in, tall and skinny as a rake.
Maybe I’m being a little picky, Father, but this Christian woman’s ass is a little too small! There isn’t even anything to grab! This one doesn’t count either, okay? I promise that the next one…
And then… more of the same. I simply couldn’t catch a break!
My laser gaze swept over all those kneeling women, and I quickly began processing the results:
Too skinny! I’ll snap her in two.
Too fat! She’ll remind me of Laura.
Nose too big! It looks like it was planted there. No! Out of the question!
Nails too long. What the fuck? They look like claws! And she calls herself a Christian…
No tits at all! How is she supposed to breastfeed the child we’re going to adopt?
That one has a massive wedding ring! Yeah, bye!
Too stiff! Looks like she has a stick shoved somewhere.
Too hunched over! I may be a Christian, but I’m not stupid! Or a martyr!
Too sallow. Maybe there’s something wrong with her liver. She could be terminally ill! This is probably the last time I’ll ever see her around here.
Ahaaa! That one over there! Thank You, Lord! Great are You, O Lord! Yes! Yes! That’s her! Exactly her! She’s the one I want!
She was about seven paces ahead of me, on the left, kneeling. I couldn’t see her face.
My God! I thought piously. What a waist! What an ass! Thank You, Heavenly Father! She’s the most fuckable Christian woman in the entire church. I’ll be forever grateful to You, Lord! I promise that this time I’ll do everything by the book: I’ll court her for about six months, then I’ll get engaged to her, then we’ll have a church wedding with a priest and all that, and after that I’ll fuck her like a good Christian until her teeth rattle! And we’ll have IVF treatments and… we’ll have at least seven children. Eleven! A football team!
Oh, great are You, Lord! You couldn’t have made a better choice! Look at those beautiful childbearing hips! She’ll have no trouble giving birth! If only she’d turn her head a little so I could see her better. I hope she isn’t ugly as hell! Come on, girl, turn your head! Turn it, I said! But what if she is ugly? Wait a minute, girl, don’t turn it! Lord, I beg You, don’t pull one of Your nasty jokes on me!
Hmm, could she be ugly? So what? What if she is? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, isn’t it? I’ll love her exactly as she is! I’ll sacrifice myself! She’ll be my wife, and I’ll kiss her ass morning, noon, and night! And I’ll even enjoy it! I promise! Come on, turn your head!
After about half an hour during which I went through all the torments of hell, the woman stood up. And what a waist she had! What hips… What slender legs! I could make out her curves through that damned long skirt. She crossed herself. She bowed before the icon, but she didn’t kiss it. Strange!
The chick turned around, and at that moment, I saw her face.
I let out a long, disappointed whistle.
