Marry fucked God.

God didn’t light a cigarette afterwards, first of all because He doesn’t have any lungs, and second of all smoking causes impotence.

So what’s it like, fucking God?

Imagine the most spectacular sunset you’ve ever seen – say in the Philippines, when the skies are painted yellowish-pink between one blue and the other, above the limestone cliffs that arise from the sea like the earth’s erection, or in Cadiz, in front of a bursting Genesisial orange that for a moment makes you think you’re gonna crash into the sun – imagine all of that entering your cervix.

Furthermore – when you make love to the almighty – the Alpha and the Omega – it’s only that he’s within you, filling you with a sensation you’ve never experienced and probably never will, that everything is actually OK, and always was and always will be, that you’re safe, there’s someone who’s looking after you, it’s not only that, ‘cause God same way He’s inside He’s also outside, and he wraps you, wraps you like a womb with the infinite Good of creation, and you know that every evil and every pain and each breakup along the way were but extras in the magnificent drama that was directed by that very same Good, and you see the Beginning and the Eschatology and everything between them as if they were one Quantic-Singular moment, and you realize that time itself is but a short pause in eternity, and you let it carry you and drown you and you finally allow yourself to surrender, until you disappear in it,

So that night, Marry experienced all of that.

Plus, she came twice.

It took time for Him – for God – to get Marry into bed.

Now don’t get me wrong, He’s not one of those who only care about sex and then disappears.

His wooing was sincere, he’s into something serious; done with being a bachelor.

But Marry is a suspicious girl, and rightly so. Before God, each time she opened her heart to a man, it somehow ended with it bleeding between her hands.

Anyway, from the first moment she didn’t make it easy for God.

Just to make her notice him was already no simple task, considering the fact that He doesn’t have a body and that He’s in each and every Ether and that in the first place Marry herself is a part of Him and He’s a part of her.

So first thing – He came in her dream.

Marry felt she was flying, then it got mixed with erotic verses from the Song of Songs and sketches from the Kama-Sutra, when she woke-up she was so wet so that she reached her hand to the drawer and went insane on the dildo.

It continued with different clues in the stars, or the figure 1, that suddenly appeared everywhere with frequency that underlies the axioms of the theory of probability, in short, a series of coincidences, that whoever who – despite the post-modern bullshit that surrounds her from every direction – still has a spec of faith in the magic of existence in her heart, won’t be able to believe they were coincidences, even if she’d really insist.

Eventually Marry came around.

She was still unaware of God’s romantic intentions, but one evening, when she was sitting on the couch in front of the television, and thought, completely not out loud, and she feels like a vegan pizza, and on that very second the doorbell rang, and there there was a delivery guy who came for the next door neighbor and got stuck with an extra vegan pie, she said, OK, OK, I’m ready.

Come.

Before we continue, you’re probably asking yourself, why, why Marry for God’s sake, why did God choose specifically her, why her and not me?!

Well, it wasn’t because Marry was some pious virgin who abstained from all of life’s pleasures, a Mother Theresa of our time.

No, Marry was an ordinary girl, with a couch and a television and a dildo in the drawer, same as you and me.

The only difference between Marry and the rest of us is that she cares.

And not only that she cares.

She cares about EVERYTHING.

About cats and trees and children in Syria and rocks and the economy, and about the fact that the vegan pizza she had ordered during the yellowish-pink sunset in the Philippines costs like a whole week of work for the girl who served it to her, and that the plastic trey in which that very pizza was served is never really going to decompose.

And not only that she cares about everything.

She REALLY cares.

Cares as in the kind of actually doing something about it.

Sounds mundane, but how many people do you know who really care about everything and actually do something about it?

And as far as God concerns there’s nothing sexier than caring.

He’s like that – old fashioned.

Oh, and also, she has the body of a twenty year old gymnast.

Long story short, they went on a date, moonlight beach walking, and afterwards a picnic. As they march, and the stars and the skies and their entire armies play soundless chants, only for Marry’s sake, and it was the most perfect music that human ears have ever not heard.

Marry was in charge of the food and wine, because, well, God doesn’t have any taste buds nor a digestive system. Still, when Marry was indulging the souffle, the Nizozot sparks went over and above and God had a hell of an enjoyment of He’s creations.

The date was, in lack of a more suitable word, Godly.

Marry has a rule, never sleep with a man on the first date, except for one time in Mexico and only God knows what a mistake that was, but God isn’t exactly a man, it doesn’t mean she’s into women or even open to try, because God isn’t exactly a woman either, He’s both or neither, plus it’s been over a year since the last time if you don’t count the dildo, and if there’s no penis involved then you don’t count it on the list, anyway Marry went for it.

Wow.

Life after fucking God isn’t the same as before.

Since that night, it’s as if He’s always with her, always inside her; as if she’s always in the midst of a fuck.

And that way, one cannot function in normal life.

Do you know a woman who’s able to fill and excel sheet while her clitoris is vibrating, or to stand in front of a class when a tongue is on her anus?

Me neither.

With no choice, Marry quit.

Small talk also became difficult for her; how can you explain them, with their average fucks and their excel sheets, what’s ecstasy; what’s the true potential of this existence.

Marry and God continued dating, and in the first few months it was a real honeymoon, with deep conversations ‘till dawn and higher worlds orgasms.

But a bit less than a year later, right before their anniversary, Marry started to feel that something’s missing.

Indeed, her and God were together – as together as can be, such unity is only accessible for those who overcame the limits of matter, space and time.

But as you know, it’s more complicated than that.

If someone to whom God didn’t reveal Himself were to observe Marry, strolling with Him on the beach under the moonlight or licking vegan ice-cream together with him, she might have thought that Marry was actually walking or licking, how to say, by herself.

No; it wasn’t the routine that burnt out, not because He didn’t buy her flowers – Marry received Poppy fields in spring and squils in autumn. God rejuvenates every second; as someone who’s existing outside the time dimension, the burden of repetition isn’t on His shoulders, He’s not looking for thrills because they’re to be found everywhere.

It wasn’t the age gap – although infinity years and something isn’t a small matter. Neither the unprecedented number of children from His previous marriage with the Schina.

It also wasn’t because He was looking at others – His an absolutely loyal God. A one woman’s God.

No, it wasn’t Him. It’s her.

“We want different things, you see, you, you’ve already seen it all, experienced it all. But me, I need someone for whom everything is new, someone who hasn’t seen yet, someone to discover together with him. Someone like me.”

God didn’t say a word.

Of course He sees.

It’s not like He didn’t see it coming. Once again, was is will be, same thing from His perspective.

Hand over heart, God was also a bit tuned off by her. He felt she’s becoming dependent, not seeing her friends anymore, hardly contacting her family.

And when you think about it, I myself am not really sure anymore, whether Marry truly fucked God as she says, or whether this whole time she’s actually, how to say, masturbating.

Anyway, she still cared about Him as a person, still, God, doesn’t matter that He’s Marry’s lover He’s also her father – Freudian psychology aside and in non-dualic terms this phrase slides down the throat – and also a brother, and a friend, and even though He faked being sad, deep inside God was extremely happy, for who if not Him has articulated that superior cosmic law, that very supreme purpose of the human existence, that very same secret known to every prophet in history: this life has only one thing that’s sweeter than fucking God in it – falling in love with flesh and blood.

God gave Marry His blessing when she began, carefully, curiously, to date Joey from her office.

After all, what kind of God would he be if he would have created Marry just so she fucks Him all day long? And why create Joey then?

And even though her heart remembers its bleedings clearly, each and every bleed, you can say that the time she spent with God was sort of a healing experience, at least enough in order to give it a shot.

So God and Marry didn’t get married, and didn’t give birth to many little Gods; we already have plenty of those – God, you see, same way He’s a unity He’s also a multiplication.

The children who were born to Marry and Joey weren’t great prophets; one is a kite surfing instructor, one is a pastry chef, and the young one is in agriculture.

But each of them is uniquely one of a kind.

When Marry falls asleep in Joey’s arms, she likes to feel his skin gluing against hers, the chest hair, the fingernails.

And sometimes, on special occasions, she still hops for a quicky with God.

Joey’s cool with it, since God isn’t exactly a man it’s not really cheating as far as he’s concerned.

Furthermore, sometimes God even pays Joey a visit, since God isn’t exactly a man it’s not actually gay.

And on especially special occasions, under the moonlight, the three of them fuck together.

And when Joey’s inside Marry, the moon is above, and God is between them, you know that this whole existence deal is worthwhile.