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In my recent trip to my homeland, I found another reason to dislike prayer: people take credit for what they pray about.

As it turns out, I owe my wonderful husband to my mother. Yeah. To her.

Why? She prayed about it, she claims.

Never mind that it was me who asked him out. That it was me who chose him among others. That it was me who pursued him. No, she prayed about it, and I owe him to her.

Why should a woman, then, bother swifting through the  riffraff to find a good man, if the decision doesn’t belong to her?

What my pious mother seems to forget is that my sisters married less than awesome guys. What happened there? She only prayed for me?

Also interesting is that I know non-religious women from non-religious families who are married to great guys. Nobody prayed for their prospective husbands, yet they, through good sense and discernment, met and wed excellent partners. My sisters, however, were devoted, dedicated-to-god girls who were naive enough to marry, well, losers.

Single women out there, whatever you do, keep your head screwed on when looking for a life partner.

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