A hot Christian, that’s what you need. Freshly converted, just like you. A just-hatched hot Christian, full of ardour. You could pray together and stuff. Wear his and hers crucifixes. Go to Bible studies together. Move in together and put a big ass crucifix on the wall.
Christianity’s having a moment. Nothing hotter than an ardent young Christian. Conservatively dressed. Twinset and pearls style. No make-up or anything. Focused on her salvation and the salvation of the world. Fucking hot. Even I’m turned on.
And she’d be really into marriage. And fidelity. And so would you be. You could hang with other Christian couples. Wouldn’t that be something? Say grace before eating together at dinner parties. Hang out at church barbeques, or whatever.
Conversion is where it’s at. I’m half tempted to follow you. But I could never do that thing of just kneeling and giving myself to Jesus. That’s what you need to do, don’t you? Like, really ask for divine help. Which I definitely need. God, if anyone needs divine help, it’s me.
You could discuss God together. That’d be cool. It’d be really intimate. She’d trust you enough to discuss her spiritual life. Her spiritual journey. Her path to conversion. How she got into Jesus and so on.
You’d see it shining through her eyes. Really beautiful. And she’d weep in front of you. Just cry. Tears filling her eyes as she recounted her path to salvation. And received the grace of Jesus – that’s what your receive, isn’t it: the grace of Jesus? Or God. But it’s the same thing, really.
Imagine her voice. How it would tremble as she poke. As she searched for words. Imagine that!
And you could tell her about your path to conversion. How you felt the whole Jesus-pathos thing. How you read the gospels in awe. And you’d mean it, too. It’d be the best thing about you. It’d be better and higher than anything else. And your eyes would be full of tears, too. It’d be like something from Dostoevsky.
Work in Progress 