I pride myself on being a man whose thoughts would give you hope for finding a man. If I'm moved by your beauty, I thank God for you; I rejoice over the beautiful creation before me. Then, instead of imagining all the ways I'd jump your bones, I channel my desire upward—I pray for you.
I ask God for all the blessings you need to thrive in happiness. I pray for your future husband, asking that he be blessed with the discipline and selflessness and courage to do what's right and to prepare himself to be the husband you deserve.
Finally, I ask God for whatever I need to channel my desire for you into becoming the best husband that I can be—into becoming the best friend that I can be—into becoming my highest self.
You might be thinking, "That's all well and good, but what about reality, where every guy watches porn and cruises the dating scene for hookups and doesn't have a halo?"
I'm not a saint. In fact, five years ago I was the most depressingly average male in all of existence. I watched porn almost daily, masturbated just as much, and lived on my mom's couch. If I were struck by your beauty, I'd save your image in my "spank bank." Then I'd do everything in my power to charm away your resistance. With no job and no prospects, charm was all I had.
I didn't care about you or your future husband because my focus was solely on my pleasure. I was like most guys. But then, existence as I knew it unraveled.
After my third and last breakup, I was struck with anxiety and depression that would make a bear shit. I was overcome with pain in my present and despair for the future. I seriously considered harming myself—because love was my whole reason for living. And since I had failed in all three of my live-in relationships, what did I have to live for?
In my darkest moment, I asked myself what I could do differently. And when I really thought about it, I realized I hadn't put any effort into preparing for my relationships.
I'd hook up with a girl at a party or fantasize about her until she was mine. I killed myself trying to make things work after I'd gotten her in bed—you should've seen my desperate love notes. But I didn't do anything to plan beforehand.
So after my last relationsh*t, I researched this whole love thing. I concluded that unconditional love was the only way. It's like that cheesy saying goes: If you love someone, you have to let them go. And to let someone go—to let them truly be free—you can't be attached by lustful thoughts.