The Prize

The air is wintry and yet my perspiration refuses to be
abated by the chilly breeze enveloping me. I stand just a few steps away from
the door. It was not a particularly dim night. My guess was, right that moment,
the world was having a full moon. But none of these details matter. Nor do I
care even if they do. Clutched in my left hand is a piece of torn paper. A
piece which appears insignificant from someone who possesses no idea of what it
contains - a series of badly written sequence of numbers that I have thought I
would never ever dare, if I would have it my way, look upon ever again. And yet
here I am attempting to reawake the power that lies within them. They are mere
numerals, far from getting upset about. The one who owns them, however, is who
I am wary of.

I do not understand why I decided to keep this paper and
allowed it to lie dormant and hidden from plain sight for the past four years,
roughly. I have long been firm in my stance never to associate myself with that
person again, but for the last few weeks I have been weak. As each day passes,
my iron will is being slowly melted by the flame of something I have feared of.
For the longest of time, I have been avoiding its blaze. But now it finally licked
a minuscule of its heat on me. And as moments tread forward, it shows no sign
of mercy upon me. It is resolute in its aim to consume me and manipulate me, to
do things I would not in my strength, even dare let my finger move to its
completion. Even as I write this, I find my words, incoherent and incomprehensible.
That is how weak I have become.

This will be quick and yet I suspect it would take longer
than I wish it would be. I do not even know what I would say. I do not even have
a definite purpose on why I have set myself in engaging in this nonsensical
act. But my heart that throbs turbulently caused me… just to do it. I then
inserted the Globe Sim card which I predict shall experience its first and last
usage.

“Who is this?”

A woman’s voice. My mind which seems like a whirlpool on a
vicious torturous cycle swiveled faster. My frustration escalated. It now
appears that I have lost the last means of contact I have left when I seem to
need it the most. And yet despite of my aching soul borne out of the sharp
thorns of unwelcome emotions tormenting me from the past few weeks, I pressed
on.

“Is Nettik there?” I asked.

“I’m sorry but he is asleep.” She responded.

I felt the reply was a bit delayed. I know he was there and
awake.

“Tell him it’s… Prize.” I demanded. 

I heard a series of indiscreet voices until finally my
quarry allowed itself to be heard.

“What does a renegade pupil want from me?” 

At least he still calls me a “pupil”… sort of. His sarcasm
can be felt miles away.

“I wanted to know your thoughts on… some matter.” I told
him. 

“Well, well, well”, his sarcastic speech continues, “Let me
guess, your stubbornness finally took its toll on you?”

After all these years, he still harbors bitterness toward
me. But I must admit I am impress by his guess. He is correct. I have been
noted, hailed, and scorned for my unpredictability. And yet at that moment, Nettik seems like
he had me wrapped around his fingers. When someone appears to know your every
move, it can get really disarming. Hardly surprising for he is my former
“master” after all. 

He believes he is superior to me in every way. Thus one can
only imagine what would happen when someone would impertinently suggest that I
am somewhat ahead of him in some respect. That is utter blasphemy.  A sacrilege which placed an insurmountable
rift between us that can never be bridged ever again.

But that is nonsense. I could never ever replicate his
skills with women. You could practically point any woman in the crowd and he
could smoothly get that woman to like him. If the circumstance is right, even
get that girl to sleep with him that same night. It seems like magic. It is
like he could practically put a girl under some sort of a spell. Such an
ability I never once claim I possess, nor do I think I could ever have. All I
ever cared about is making a woman feel special and feel good about her self
when she is with me. Whether it leads to something more is something I could
only hope and could never willfully influence at my whim. He has slept with
more women than I could ever hope to aspire in my lifetime. But for some
reason, he seems to be threatened by a socially inept introvert such as I am.
To this day, I never understood the rationality of such allegations. Even I am
willing to concede that perhaps he is the best seducer in the country. He ranks
among the best in the world, I may boldly add. 

But when asked whether he felt I am a threat to his
greatness, he simply scoffs and asks back how someone like me could ever pose
as a hazard in his throne. He is right, how could I? Maybe I am just full of
it.

“Haven’t learned anything at all. Foolish as ever.” He
riled. “What the fuck are you doing focusing your energy on one woman? Look at
the mess you are in, shit head.” 

I was silent.

“She feels the same way?” He finally asked. 

“I don’t know.” I uttered weakly.

“You know full well that IDK means no.” He scorned. “Who’s ‘The
Prize’ supposed to be?” 

When I heard those words I wanted to bang my head on the
nearest wall. In this situation I trapped myself in, I am no longer “The Prize”…
she is. I feel like a war weary warrior dropping his bloodied sword with his
broken shield being the only quivering support remaining to keep myself from
succumbing to the cold ground. I have been mourning this truth for the past few
weeks now. I have been denying it for months. But I truly love her… so much. In
this span, I have declined every offer, I have halted every opportunity, I have
rendered immobile every advance other women had brought upon me. Why am I
acting as if I am in a committed relationship when I am in fact not in anyway obliged
to do so? And the worst of them all, I have the vaguest of idea if she even
feels the same way. All these, Nettik found to be simply moronically stupid.

“Getting rusty, ‘The Prize’?” He mocked. He seems to be
enjoying every minute of this. It appears to me that he finds some form of twisted
vindication from every word I would say as if each of them is cumulative proof
of how superior he truly is to me. Indeed, even the most successful of players
have their own set of insecurities tucked away under the mask of their
seemingly unstoppable confidence. 

“Tell me, why can’t you make her fall in love with you?” His
tone now shifted from despised dismissal to concerned seriousness. I knew I had
to be careful. The sudden shift was alarming.

“I wasn’t trying to make her fall in love with me. You know
my ways. I just wanted her to feel loved, respected, and adored. Even from a
far, this is what my heart…” 

Then I heard a laugh of mock.

“You are truly fucked up Prize. From a far???” He asked with
amazement. Right then, I knew I should have heeded my own advice to watch my words. 

“You are more stupid than I thought. Not only did you fall
in love with an imaginary girl, you no longer possess any taint of seduction
prowess. You are a disgrace to me… to us”.

My anger started brewing. I could tolerate such barrage of
disdain and derision against my being even in my weakness but to hold the girl
that I love as a travesty is insolence to the core. 

“Fuck you. Dare not your impudent mouth foul the lady I love
and respect.” This is one of the things I never thought I would ever regret
until now. My cussing skills are nothing short of terrible. But the fire of my
anger burns from each and every word of that statement. He knows I am serious, still
calm but grim and unsmiling. 

“Whoa, what you gonna do? Smite me? You don’t even know
where I am, moron.”

“I only demand that you refrain from your boorish and
uncouth treatment of her.” I felt my voice began to sound deeper.

“Fuck you, overreacting fucktard.”

I have heard enough. I terminated the call, drew the sim
card away and disposed of it, along with the piece of paper I have crumpled
tightly from my hand. The fire ate them away, melting them without any hint of
clemency. There is no turning back. Alas, our contact has finally been severed…
permanently.

As I gaze upon the piece of paper as the flame devours it to chemical oblivion, I cannot help but realize the lack of difference we both share in our present state - we both suffer a similar fate.

It was a dark day. The stars are starting to reign the night sky while the bluish moon that towers over them all in spite of it being the tiniest celestial body when compared not under the subjective and sometimes deceptive senses of ours begins to assume its usurped dominion. However, what lies above matters not as I gaze upon the even darker scenery of what lies beneath them. Jerome and Tricia whose intertwined paths are in danger of breaking as the fault of dissipating love which was once what bonded their roads threatens to completely crack open to swallow them whole. No. To swallow us whole.

"It is not your fault", Tricia whispered as she tried to contain her tears as she tightly grasp the sleeves of Jerome’s black polo, her head reluctantly resting on his chest.  Her eyes looked straightly at mine as she struggled to mouth the word "Prize" as if to call me near.

Those eyes which beseech me of help. Eyes of a hapless vulnerable young girl longing for a princely knight to come take her away. Eyes that wish for this moment to be a mere dream, evanescing at a wake’s notice. Eyes which persistently seek my presence, as if I hold the power for all these painful adversities to vanish at my command.

Truth be told, I am equally helpless to alleviate the moment’s pangs and yet these people keep beguiling me into the void of their torment. In similar vein that Tricia’s eyes struck my core for aid, Jerome priorly told me, "Your presence would make the moment bearable."

Bearing no hint on what and how I should act, I sat and leaned on a nearby tree. I pulled my mobile phone from my side pocket, placed the damaged but still working headphones on my ears, closed my eyes, then played whatever music my MP3 player would randomly pick for me:

Then my heart did time in Siberia
Was waiting for the lie to come true
‘Cause it’s all so dark and mysterious
When the one you want doesn’t want you too

I momentarily opened my eyes. That’s when her eyes met mine. She no longer feels the love that she once had for him. The emotions and romance that once plagued them have drifted far and wide to the ethers of nonexistence. She wished not for this to happen and yet it did. She did give it a try, forcing the once formidable feelings to reemerge from her confused and hurting heart. Weeks passed and the only thing that surfaced was a tightening and turbulent constriction on her chest as she realized that she is about to hurt the very person who have done nothing but offer his unfettered devotion.

I just smiled and said "Let go of me,
Now, there’s something I just gotta know
Did someone else steal my part?"
She said it’s not my fault

"But… why?" I am aware of the many things that he wished to let her know. I know since he told me. And yet that was the only thing that proceeded out of his lips. He wanted to say how much he loves her. A love that no words are able to justify as to its precise meaning. He did anything he could to satisfy her whim. He is willing to walk an extra mile as well. "If she wished me to send her roses to greet her every morning I’ll do it. Does she want me to take her on a a lavish date? I’ll make ends meet and take her there. Does she wish to be pampered with loving kisses and warm embraces? I shall not cease to do so for as long as I could." Jerome went on and on as I lie quietly on the black sofa of his room.

I was drifting in between, like I was
On the outside looking in (yeah)
And in my dreams you are still here
Like you’ve always been, oh

I used to lie down on that black sofa for comfort as I partake in my own share of  immersed pondering. Its softness is just right. My neck is amply supported for long sessions of musings by its protruding cushion edge. Its color takes me to a dark portal of profoundity, sending  me into fool’s paradise, the only place where I can meet the one my heart beats for. But now, I cannot drift into the depths of my fancies even if I want to. All it reminded me is the reality that bites, no, that gnaws the person confiding to me. Shall my fate be the same? Will the serendipity that gently guided me to experience the most intense of all emotions be, in the end, morphed into a dark vile fate of a heart shattered into thousand pieces? There is indeed a reason why such a term as "twist" of fate was concocted.

I gave myself away completely
But you just couldn’t see me
Though, I was sleeping in your bed
‘Cause someone else was on your mind
And in your head

"I did not want to fall for ‘him’. Tell me, I know you know what I am talking about, did I choose to fall hard to someone else?" Those were the words that welcomed me as I open the door of my room. Indeed, she speaks of the truth. It requires not a genius to understand how dejected she is by mere glance of her eyes, eyes wrought of pain, detained for such a long time, barely can she contained the desire for release of what lies beneath those tired and hurting brown eyes. I also wonder too why our nature was configured in such a way that such cruel aspect of reality is even possible in the first place. Soul mates, kindred spirits, intertwined souls, "two hearts, two souls, two minds, one destiny", these conceptual abstractions that she used to  curiously, gleefully, and blushingly implore of me to expound all sound facetious now. What lies in front of me is now a broken heart, wanting to be mend.

I opened my eyes. I looked at my cell phone. It’s the seventh song already. I raised my head, seeing the two beginning to part now. Astoundingly, I found no tears dripping on their crestfallen faces. And yet their hearts cannot lie of the persistent truth that keeps on creeping out from their torn souls. I can vividly hear the loudest of cries in their heart of hearts.

As I rest under the shade of this very tree, the reality of this game called love started to forcefully impinge itself on my senses. I have realized that though I have learned quite a lot about attraction, seduction, and courtship in the last 24 years of my life, my knowledge of how to maintain a healthy relationship is virtually nil.

And yet I have also already realized that being in a committed relationship has brought me far greater satisfaction and joy than any flirtatious flings could ever hope to give.

Perhaps that is because it is not a game.

I am a nihilist. With that I mean I view life as it is. From
the bleak terror of death, to the utter pain of personal offense, to the
blissful union of two person madly in love. I cannot maintain a blind eye to the harshness of reality nor can I
ignore the orgasmic pleasures of life. I have taken the path of living under
the guidance of cold sterile logic and indifferent reason.

However, as a human, I am also bound by the shackle of
emotions. As a nihilist, I must be honest as to acknowledge this part of me. To
do otherwise is to lie to myself which is in dire opposition to the principle I
hold to. I have my preferences but as a nihilist I should also realize the
truth that we cannot make reality conform to what we want.

Much as I hate to be overcome by emotions, I still am. To my
humanity I lay the blame.

“I will not come back here anymore”. Such an ordinary
statement, voiced out in an ordinary manner and yet causing nothing short of
ordinary to my stagnant emotions. If I can still gather them all, they are
sadness, concerned worry, pain characterized by heaviness in the chest,
loneliness, haplessness, and weakness. All these ingredients of emotional pain
brewed ominously in the pot of my emotional centers giving rise to a one single
painful feeling to rule them all.

 There are a couple of sacrifices that have to be made when
she stays home. Sometimes these sacrifices can get very bothersome that you
are actually counting the days until she leaves. These have been the norm for
the nth time already. She would come. Midway, her presence would sometimes get
on your nerves. Then she departs. 

Perhaps I never really wanted her to leave all along. Perhaps,
I just wanted to have my own room with her staying comfortably in the other
room. How I wish for her suffering to end. If there is a Devil, I would willingly
sell my soul just to end it. My death means nothing compare to the lifetime of happiness
that would befall on her. Bah! Irrational emotions…

When she leaves, the aforementioned pain is always present.
Though this has occurred a number of times already, my biological system never
became used to it. There seems to be no immunity to this pain which is triggered
whenever she moves away from home.

“I will not come back here anymore. I’ll stay in your grandfather’s
place for a few days before I leave the country,” my mother said nonchalantly.
I was then instructed to trick my three year old brother into going somewhere
so as to not realize that she is about to take her leave. A few minutes after
her absence, my brother kept looking for her and calling “mama” while crying.

I cannot do anything but endure the painful emotion, which
is further worsen by my brother’s cry which I am helpless to subside. “Fool!
You would still see her again.” My rational side tells me. “Fool! Those emotions
are clouding your mind from viewing things in the proper perspective”. And yet
the shouting and yelling of my rational, critical self is crippled in silence by
the screaming anguish of my painful emotions.

There are other people in this planet who are also missing people
they hold dear. Whether separated by geography, cut short by time, or simply longing
for them to be near. I count myself as one of them as we travel in this ark of
irrational emotions. I, the captain of this ship, understand the pain my fellow
pirates have to go through in this voyage of pain. I swear by my scimitar to
take care of these brave and yet emotionally panged men and women in this
stormy sea of yearning, as much as I possibly can.

Too many thoughts roaming in my head. But they are crying one thing in unison: "Leave the Game". A friend died because of it. My friend…

I was having a break after a long walk after trying to find
in vain a stall where they sell personalized bracelet. I decided to park myself
on one of the marble stairs along the side of the mall so that I can think and
reorganized my thoughts on what course of action should I do next. In the midst
of my musing, I heard a sound. The sound I have been trying my best not to hear
again. The sound I have loathed since I first encountered it in my entire
experience. The sound I have been giving my utmost effort to undo.

The resonance of a lady shedding her tears.

If there is one thing I have learned in the convoluted harsh
world of the dating game, a lesson, I, and a few select people have learnt the
hard way, it is that the most agonizing pain one could experience is not to be hurt
by the one you love. It is rather, you, hurting the one who loves you more than
herself, more than her life - more than anything else in the world.

There are people who had scorned what I do. They think I
teach these guys “techniques” on how to seduce women, manipulate them, treat
them like some toy they can play with, and domineer these women into doing whatever
they want. One thing these people do not realize is that men also get hurt too
– a lot.

I know this one guy who fell in love with this particular girl. He loves
her so much that often times he would tell me that he’d do anything for this
girl. He is always there for her when she needs someone to be there. He cheers
her up when she’s down. He is always there to sincerely listen to every word,
to every frustration, to every pain she has gone through the day. He never
fails to show up. If she needs an angel, he’ll be her angel, if she needs a
handyman, he’ll be her handyman, if she needs a teacher, he’ll be her teacher.
To cause a smile to be drawn on her face, he told me, is the sweetest reward he
would ever have during the day.

Then one day, this lady ended up falling in love… but not to him.
She met this rich guy who drives a black BMW one night, and after two weeks she
told my friend that she had never felt special and alive until he met him. In
pain, my friend just forced a smile and told her to be happy with him. This
rich “cool” guy beats her. Treats her like trash. But still she loved him. My
friend was her console in time of need. If my friend would remind her to snap
out of it, she would always end up defending her boyfriend. Her boyfriend will
beat her up, she’ll run to my friend for solace, she’ll defend her boyfriend’s
action from him, then after all has been said and done, she would always end up
running to her boyfriend’s arms and all seem well again. Lather, massage,
rinse, repeat.

That same day I encountered the sniveling lady, I
happen to come across this message from an acquaintance:

Hanggang kailan ako magpapakatanga? Bakit ba kasi mahal na
mahal ko tong lalaking to. He had done nothing but hurt me…. but still I seem
to be unable to let go of him… I love him so much.

        - 
Abby489

I am sick and tired of seeing fine men and women getting
hurt.

It is people like Abby and my friend that I even have this
job. The cold reality is that great guys like him are always being neglected in
the dating field. The “hot”, “sexy”, “beautiful” girls would never ever notice
guys like him. These “nice” guys feel a sting in their hearts that the one they
love might always be waking up with the wrong man in bed every morning.

This… is why falling in love is so fucking hard. These
loving and hurting women deserve great guys like my friend. And guys like my
friend does not deserve being treated like bullshit gas refilling stations. I have
rejected “clients” who only wants to “bang” ladies and leaves them for naught
and feeling used. I have found life’s meaning in this and I would never regret
doing this. I am giving guys like my friend a fighting chance out there in the
field. So that great women like Abby, might end up with guys who rightfully
deserve her. Someone who would genuinely love her, treat her with utmost
respect, and give her the paramount care that all delicate women are worthy
of.

                                          * * *

As I can no longer bear how her sobs is tearing my heart. I
immediately ran through the nearest convenience store, bought some pocket
tissue (as I have noticed she is wiping her tears with her hands) and went back
to her.

Unfortunately, she was gone.

She will be just another casualty in piles in the eyes of
the cold, sterile realm of the dating game. I, on the other hand, see her as a
very special lady who deserves better.

- The Prize

Last night, I was able to meet up with my wingman and one of my most respected fellow PUA. Slyde is a master of the art of bed seduction. He has been perfecting his art of making a woman feel sexually aroused to the extreme and emotionally at ease and comfortable in the bedroom. His women loved him because he is a natural woman pleaser. I have seen no one who is capable of performing a three hour foreplay (I am a foreplay lover myself and I usually do it an hour at least and an hour and a half at most. But he simply is an unstoppable foreplay cyborg ;)) - non stop. But again, he regards foreplay and sex as an art that he does it with flair. The biggest problem he ever  has to deal with is the difficulty of cleaning his bedsheets which would inevitably be wet with her woman’s overflowing love juice. That’s the kind of problem most men would love to have ;).

We love sharing seduction/attraction methodology whenever we meet. When we find mistakes with each other’s engagement, we would give out tweak suggestions to get us back in the right course of the game. Needless to say, he shared to me some of his most powerful techniques in bringing women in the state of ultimate indulgence. I love making women feel great. Seeing them in extreme pleasure is one of the most gratifying experience I have had with women. Naturally, I listened and made mental notes along the way.

His techniques are so earth shatteringly powerful. He had relayed materials to me so powerful that I am now incorporating many of them as part of my sexual performance. Many of them, actually I never even knew. He talked about the "Multiple Sniffers Hand" technique, a technique so potent that, in no time, you will feel a woman give off steam - literally. He also talked about the "bumps and cavity" that you should formed in your hand when caressing a woman - this will definitely tingle your woman’s spine I tell you. He also narrated in detail  the most arousing way to take a woman’s clothes off - this is definitely one of my favorites. And then he told me the "nuclear bomb" which I can’t believe I never even thought about.  It was so mind blowing that I wished it was I who discovered it first. I am talking about utilizing the nose bridge in making the women arch in tiltillation and moan in pleasure. He also showed me the power of symmetry as your hands glide through a woman’s body. There are a whole lot more and these techniques are so damn powerful that my words fail to do justice on how dynamically explosive they truly are.

My past girlfriends already enjoyed the life-altering pleasure I have bestowed on them. In fact, it was so good that we are still really good friends up to now. But as I learned about Slyde’s powerful techniques, The Prize at stake has tremendously increase in voluminous proportions. My past girlfriends will definitely be envious of my future ones as I would give these lucky ladies the  exceptional pleasure that I have never given anyone before. The Prize has just gotten higher.

To my future girlfriend,

You simply have no idea of the things that I am going to do to you in our most intimate moment. Verily, verily I say unto you, you are going to beg… for mercy… that I do not stop.

- The Prize

Too many people enter into relationships without preparing and knowing what to expect. Yes, the passions, the intimacy, the romance – they all take us aback. We are so caught up in the moment that we fail to realize that the euphoric paradise we are dwelling at the moment is another one’s harsh reality. A cool comforting breeze in a scorching summer, the warmth of the fire in a cold winter night, an oasis that blurs the searing desert all around it… such is love for many.

But there is one crucial thing that is often overlooked. In spite of the powerful emotions shrouding our frail hearts which causes us to act in accordance with our most honest and naked true self, despite the bliss that lit the darkest dungeons of the deepest abyss of our inner selves, regardless of the potent energy that pierces through even to our most cleverly crafted social mask, bringing us in the state of utmost comfort, a force so intoxicating that, for the rarest of time, we drop our heavily ornamented masks and revel in being the vulnerable human that we truly are, despite of all of these, the cold hard fact that has been so elusively obvious remains. A fact humanity has been utterly denying since time immemorial. A truth that has met more resistance than any ideology mankind and womankind had ever conceived of.

Love does not always last forever.

Left on its own, love shall inevitably wither. It’s an elegant energy which comes and goes, when it pleases. Sometimes it stays for life. Sometimes it stays for a second, a minute, a day, a month, or a year. Love is a free force. An average individual would be ignorant of how long it will last or when it shall fade. So do not be surprised when it departs. Just be glad you had been graced the opportunity to experience it.

"Ginawa ko naman lahat. I did everything for him… But he still left me…"

"I would give my life for her. But she seems unable to realize how much I love her. Why can’t she love me, the way I do? Why can’t she feel what I am feeling for her?"

Some try to water it, place it under sunlight, and provide it a fertile soil. A rose dependent on water and an orchid in need of water in precise measures. These brave souls should be commended for their efforts. But another obstacle is yet in need to be hurdled. Most people are doing it wrong. Put too much water on an orchid and it would die. Do not water enough a rose, its petals shall fall. Much of humanity wished that love could have been just a cactus in all its self sufficiency.

How do we correctly care for the plant so that it will last long? How do we properly cultivate the soil?

I know some of the ways…. I am still thinking whether to reveal this. Only the sincere, the honest, the altruistic deserves to know. I hope I find these people just before non-existence consumes me to oblivion.

Never underestimate your own capacity to care.

- The Prize

if "good" means "what God wills" then to say "God is good" can mean only "God wills what he wills." Which is equally true of you or me or Judas or Satan. - C.S. Lewis

     The problem of evil is one of the most used arguments by atheist to logically infer that God, the theistic God (an all powerful, all knowing, and all good being), does not exist. When an atheist presents this argument to the theist, the most commonly retort would be throwing the counter question “on which standard do you judge good and evil?” In a recent discussion I have been having, a certain theist even claimed that atheists, when presented with this question “are trapped in their vain reasons”.

     The counter question, however, apparently does not solve the problem of evil. What it aims to accomplish is to point out that since atheist do not have a universal objective standard from which they derived their concept of good or evil, it therefore follows that they have no right to complain about the worldly evil and suffering since they themselves do not even know the extent of what evil is to eliminate. The relativistic morality of the atheist, they say, would yield varying opinions on what evil is to be eliminated. Additionally, they argue that two moral relativist atheist can even have contradictory concept of what evil is, that is, what is evil for one may be good to another and vice versa. How can the atheist then complain of the suffering in the world when they themselves cannot even agree on what evil to vanquish?

     From this they will hastily conclude that an atheist is deriving his concept of good and evil from an objective standard somewhere after all, regardless of how much he denies it. And this standard is no other than the theistic God. How they arrive to this dubious conclusion eludes me.

     I will not delve into the error of reasoning of the “problem-of-evil-counter-question” in this essay. Nor will I attempt to show that atheist do have sound moral standard from which they based their actions. That would be for another writing. The purpose of this essay is to show that the objective standard, which theists like to tout to be God, is actually problematic and poses more questions than it answers.

     What is good? Some theist says that good is whatever God decrees to be good. In short, goodness is dependent on God and outside of God, moral standard does not exist. If what is good is simply what God says is good then theoretically, God can decree that raping babies to be good and we cannot argue otherwise.

     “Theoretically, yes, but God did not decree it to be such”, a theist may argue. But that misses the point. The point is goodness then is whatever God arbitrarily says to be good period. Secondly, the mere fact that the theist “complained” about such act as not being decreed by God anyway implies that he is using some standard to which he is judging this theoretical instance of God decreeing something to be immoral. From whence did the mentioned theist’s standard come? “Of course from the REAL God who did not decree such act to be moral!” But the question is would you believe that raping a child to be morally good if God so set it to be the standard? God once caused parents to eat the flesh of their children (Leviticus 26:13, 29, Jeremiah 19:6-9). Do you accept these as morally good? “Well God did it so it is just and good”. All I can say is I wouldn’t trust people, who believe that eating the flesh of children can be just and good, to be my moral guide.

     But some theists are smarter and simply cannot accept that “good is what God wills”. Rather they argue that the standard of goodness is independent of God. God does not define moral standard of behavior but God simply learned what they are and communicates it to us. This sounds more reasonable but it is not free from problems. The curious question will be, if moral standard of goodness exist independently of God then where did this standard come from? Can it be also acquired and understood through common sense and reason? Furthermore, to say that God “learned” this objective moral standard connotes that there is a point that God did not know what this standard is. There is then a point where God was not all knowing. Another implication of this would be that there is a point then when God was not “good” since God has yet to learn what good is.

     The last is similar to the what-is-good-is-dependent-on-God argument but with slight variations. Some theist believes that goodness is part of God’s nature. God is essentially good, therefore the morality standard God is decreeing to us are all good. Aside from the fact that this is obviously circular reasoning, it is only right to ask how adherents to this argument knew that God’s nature is indeed “good”. From what standard did they judge this to be so? From God? Then we are back to the circle.

     The theists’ objective standard of goodness that they would like to shove on everyone is fraught with problems and poses more questions than answers. This is the problem of good for the theist. They themselves do not have an adequate answer to the question: ”What is good?”