I have decided that Joel’s rants about women are usually quite legitimate and understandable…but they are rather one-sided...plus, I feel the need to defend all the ladies. Hence this post.
I had my hopes and dreams shattered at a very young age. I was all of the age of nine (or thereabouts) when I was told I could not carry a tune. Ah! At the time, this made no impression, but I was to soon learn that was the ultimate cause of all my failures in life…and would be the ultimate reason why I would never find an Apostolic mate.
You see, in Apostolic World where I grew up, being able to sing is one of the Unspoken Commandments. Much like having an amazing wardrobe and naturally awesome hair, the ability to sing is coveted by all and, I have to admit, possessed by many. Except me. I am the ultimate failure, the one mistake God created! Here I sit in my tone-deaf glory, wishing desperately that I could carry a tune!...but alas, I am relegated to the back of a choir and forced to sing alone to myself in my car.
This actually does not bother me. I do worry about finding a future husband, however, because we all know that the only thing an Apostolic male wants is a hot blond with the voice of a black woman. This would appear to be an impossible combination, but apparently many women can manage that, especially if they want to grow up and become a Pastor’s Wife.
Illusory thing, the Perfect Pastor’s Wife.
It always amazes me the number of Apostolic guys who have such impossibly high standards for their future mate. Not only must she be beautiful and skinny, but, she must possess a gorgeous, modest, holy wardrobe and must be endowed with musical talents out the wazoo. What strikes me as even more
remarkable (ridiculous!) is the number of girls who try and meet these standards.
Heaven forbid! It pains me when I see girls who spend massive amounts of money on their wardrobes, countless hours on their hair, and painful hours in their heels, all to impress a young man who can preach for 20 minutes without breaking a sweat.
I really do not know the logic behind the demands of the Apostolic man. Yes, I suppose it’s nice to have a living, breathing, singing!, dressed-to-perfection being next to you at the minister’s banquet, but come on. What are you going to do the next day when the clock strikes twelve and Pente-Ella’s hair comes down and she steps out of those gorgeous high heels? Exactly. Can anyone say rude awakening?