Whenever I'm with a group of single women, there is an 80% chance that the conversation will meander towards a discussion of the fears we have surrounding marriage--giving up freedom, trusting that intimacy will stay despite personal growth and/or change, etc. And twice this has happened.
Me: Marriage is scary! I just haven't found a guy who I like and respect enough to let go of the fear and start trusting.
Friend: That's not true. You've loved guys that deeply before. They just didn't love you back.
Me: ...
I'll be real, I can only barely tolerate that level of honesty. I have been pissed about this conversation for months, and I'm only starting to process what that means.
Why does that reminder--they just didn't love you back--make me so angry? Well, obviously because it touches on rejection and unworthiness and all those horrible feelings. It feels like it is a break of the friendship code, where you don't, you know, shove your friend's face in all their insecurities. But on a deeper level, that statement angered me because it took away my control. When I narrate my singleness, I give myself the power, telling people I haven't found the right guy, I'm not willing to give up freedom. I am the person keeping me single. It's my choice. But when my friend called me on this, I was suddenly stripped of even that. Not only do I not have a person who has committed to loving and supporting me through life, I'm not even responsible for this lack. My last shred of dignity, taken away.
The introspection doesn't end there! Again, months after this conversation, I am only beginning to shift the way I frame my singleness. If it's not my choice, then what? I mean, it would be easy to sink into all the things I'm avoiding (rejection, unworthiness, etc), but there's another side. If I'm not choosing to be single, then that means--I'm open to love. I do give my heart away. I practice vulnerability. I risk my affections, and I'm willing to gamble on romance.
I have to give up the illusion that I'm in control of my singleness, and that hurts. But I get to give up the illusion that I'm a cold-hearted bastard. Giving that up is a bit scary, of course, since a cold heart isn't broken so easily. But it also means all that therapy nonsense where I worried I couldn't feel and that I lived in hopelessness was, well, nonsense. I do nothing but feel and hope.
That's my new narrative. I'm ready to love and be loved. So far those halves of the sentence are not synchronized, since I'm not interested in being loved by those who confess it, and the guys I love similarly dismiss me. But I'm not broken, I'm not shut down, I'm not hard. I'm ready for marriage, and when the day comes that the guy I love says, "hey, me too," I don't think it will be difficult to take the next step.
Unless he's allergic to cats. Then there's gonna be a problem.
Showing posts with label singleness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label singleness. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Friday, July 18, 2014
St. Maarten Stories: Concessions
While we were walking along the St. Maarten beach, Lindsay asked me if anyone had ever kissed me. I coughed out a laugh and admitted, no, no one had. She sighed and said I was lucky, which elicited another painful laugh from me. After silence stretched too long, I said, "I would ask when your first kiss was, but honestly, I don't want to know. I'm feeling bitter, and I wouldn't appreciate it."
So it was fortuitous that Jordan flirted with me at the resort's chocolate buffet immediately after we returned.
Lindsay had pointed him out as the cutest guy at the resort that afternoon. She called out to him and carried on a conversation that I mostly observed, wondering when she would finish so we could go to the room. Unwilling to look totally anti-social, I made a few comments, but I internally rolled my eyes when she invited him to meet us later.
I might have been pissed at her extroversion, but I wasn't going to risk hanging out with a hot guy unarmed. I dressed up and painted my eyes darker than usual. It was nothing, nothing, but you know. Just in case.
He did find us, practically running up, begging for our help in escaping a girl who had been following him around during his weekend at the resort. The three of us talked until his friends appeared. Lindsay had already met them, and Jordan moved to sit at the edge of the group next to me. I should mention he was an absolutely delightful asshole. He made horrifically racist and sizeist comments with a grin, and I couldn't help laughing. He was a good ol' boy from Georgia, and I found it easy to fall into the role of being shocked and appalled at the things falling from his lips. "You say the most horrible things," I told him. "I know," he grinned, leaning into my shoulder.
Confident assholes. My weakness.
Everyone else had left the chocolate buffet, and the workers had turned off the spotlights. "Let's go inside to the bar," his friends suggested. Lindsay said she was tired, but I convinced her to go in for just half an hour. Jordan pulled up a semi-circle of chairs and made sure we sat beside each other. He put his knee on my chair so I could press my hand against it if I wanted. I did.
Half an hour came and went, and his friends glanced between us and said they were going upstairs. Lindsay again said she was tired, but I convinced her to stay. I felt dangerous. I wanted--I wanted to give up. Here I was in another country with a cute boy who I was pretty sure wouldn't say no to anything I suggested or allowed. For so long I've loved boys who said no, who said, "oh, but I like her," who put up walls that I couldn't get past. Jordan was wide open, and I desperately wanted to take advantage of that opportunity.
"What's your favorite band?" he asked.
"Mumford and Sons, probably."
"Ugh! You're a hipster!"
"Haha, yeah, I guess I am. I like my men in skinny ties and suspenders."
Jordan grabbed my arm and smiled close. "That's horrible. I would never be caught dead in a skinny tie."
"That's your loss," I grinned.
"I'm going to bed," Lindsay said.
I could already picture what would happen if she left us alone. A new story, one I would probably regret. But at least I would finally have an answer to the question, "Has anyone ever kissed you?" I would look back on whatever happened with sadness and guilt and a deep satisfaction.
"I'll go up with you," I told Lindsay.
Jordan leaned in again and said, "I'd really like for you to stay here with me a little longer. I'm leaving in the morning."
Well. I smiled and said as meaningfully as I could, "I would really like that, too." I turned to Lindsay. "Alright, I'm ready."
We went upstairs. I washed the makeup off my face and pulled on a t-shirt and shorts. I said goodnight, slid under the covers, and turned off the light. I stayed awake for over an hour regretting my decision. I could still go back down. I could find him again. I could have my secret, and I would hate myself for a while, but I would feel desired and complete in a way I am increasingly desperate to experience.
It's hell, sometimes, fighting to hold onto hope.
So it was fortuitous that Jordan flirted with me at the resort's chocolate buffet immediately after we returned.
Lindsay had pointed him out as the cutest guy at the resort that afternoon. She called out to him and carried on a conversation that I mostly observed, wondering when she would finish so we could go to the room. Unwilling to look totally anti-social, I made a few comments, but I internally rolled my eyes when she invited him to meet us later.
I might have been pissed at her extroversion, but I wasn't going to risk hanging out with a hot guy unarmed. I dressed up and painted my eyes darker than usual. It was nothing, nothing, but you know. Just in case.
He did find us, practically running up, begging for our help in escaping a girl who had been following him around during his weekend at the resort. The three of us talked until his friends appeared. Lindsay had already met them, and Jordan moved to sit at the edge of the group next to me. I should mention he was an absolutely delightful asshole. He made horrifically racist and sizeist comments with a grin, and I couldn't help laughing. He was a good ol' boy from Georgia, and I found it easy to fall into the role of being shocked and appalled at the things falling from his lips. "You say the most horrible things," I told him. "I know," he grinned, leaning into my shoulder.
Confident assholes. My weakness.
Everyone else had left the chocolate buffet, and the workers had turned off the spotlights. "Let's go inside to the bar," his friends suggested. Lindsay said she was tired, but I convinced her to go in for just half an hour. Jordan pulled up a semi-circle of chairs and made sure we sat beside each other. He put his knee on my chair so I could press my hand against it if I wanted. I did.
Half an hour came and went, and his friends glanced between us and said they were going upstairs. Lindsay again said she was tired, but I convinced her to stay. I felt dangerous. I wanted--I wanted to give up. Here I was in another country with a cute boy who I was pretty sure wouldn't say no to anything I suggested or allowed. For so long I've loved boys who said no, who said, "oh, but I like her," who put up walls that I couldn't get past. Jordan was wide open, and I desperately wanted to take advantage of that opportunity.
"What's your favorite band?" he asked.
"Mumford and Sons, probably."
"Ugh! You're a hipster!"
"Haha, yeah, I guess I am. I like my men in skinny ties and suspenders."
Jordan grabbed my arm and smiled close. "That's horrible. I would never be caught dead in a skinny tie."
"That's your loss," I grinned.
"I'm going to bed," Lindsay said.
I could already picture what would happen if she left us alone. A new story, one I would probably regret. But at least I would finally have an answer to the question, "Has anyone ever kissed you?" I would look back on whatever happened with sadness and guilt and a deep satisfaction.
"I'll go up with you," I told Lindsay.
Jordan leaned in again and said, "I'd really like for you to stay here with me a little longer. I'm leaving in the morning."
Well. I smiled and said as meaningfully as I could, "I would really like that, too." I turned to Lindsay. "Alright, I'm ready."
We went upstairs. I washed the makeup off my face and pulled on a t-shirt and shorts. I said goodnight, slid under the covers, and turned off the light. I stayed awake for over an hour regretting my decision. I could still go back down. I could find him again. I could have my secret, and I would hate myself for a while, but I would feel desired and complete in a way I am increasingly desperate to experience.
It's hell, sometimes, fighting to hold onto hope.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Invisible at Church
I've been skipping church a lot, and finally a friend called me out on it. I'd been waiting for someone to do so, which is exactly the sort of loser-move I side-eyed when I used to be an insider. "Well, if they'd just come up to us," I would say, "We would totally invite them in and be nice." True! And it is undoubtedly unfair to ask people to be responsible for the emotional well-being of others. But sometimes people are desperately unsure of themselves and need the validation that someone noticed they were gone and wish it hadn't been so.
That was a long preamble to the fact that: I went to church today. And I wish I hadn't.
It was Father's Day, which is never my favorite holiday. Same for Mother's Day when there is blanket celebration with no acknowledgement of potential pain (either from one's own parents or from not being a parent oneself). So there was the requisite adorable video and honoring of fathers. There was a quote from Martin Luther about how we ought to be grateful for our parents because they fed us instead of letting us die. All true, I suppose, but a single throw-away line about, "If you need to work through your family's dysfunction, go see a counselor," did little to honor the pain that I imagine at least 40% of the congregation felt. Fathers, man. They do a number on people. Sometimes it's "simply" lack of time or affection, and that's enough to screw someone up. But I've been a counselor for all of five months, and already I'm realizing how terrifyingly common it is for fathers to verbally, emotionally, physically, and emotionally abuse their children. Handwaving that fact away with a "thank God for your parents" felt very irresponsible.
But I expected that. What I didn't expect was a sermon based on the fact that humans bear God's image most fully in the family. There were, like, maybe a few sentences about how the Church is a family, but mostly even that was in the context of using the Church to bolster your own family unit.
As soon as it was said, my face shut down, my body turned in on itself, and I felt emotions crawling up my throat. Honestly, I don't even care that I disagree with that interpretation of Genesis 1:26-28. I personally believe that we bear God's image as individuals in relationships, but that there is no premium on marriage or parenthood as the relationship par excellence. And I believe that multiplying to fill and subdue the earth includes, but is not limited to, physical reproduction. But whatever. That was not the message being taught today. I could maybe have handled hearing that the family is the best way to represent God if even once the message had been directed to singles. "What about us?" I thought. "We're stuck with being sub-par image bearers. What do we do with that?" Hearing a callous "You just have to wait until you're married," would have pissed me off, but it would have been better than what actually happened, which is that myself and other singles (and the divorced and widowed and childless) were simply erased.
It got worse, of course. Because eventually we were addressed, in the form of a survey the entire congregation filled out after the sermon so that the church could better serve us. Nice thought, and there was even one-fourth of the page devoted to singles. There were sliding scales that asked if we thought God was using our singleness to sanctify and mature us, and I heavily circled the highest number in an attempt to prove my marital status doesn't affect my relationship with God. Then there were a couple yes/no questions. Two of the three were, "Are you saving sex for marriage?" and "Are you doing what you can to hold high the idea of marriage?" Wonderful, wonderful. My existence is summarily described by what I cannot do and by aspiring to that which I am not. My singleness is the absence of.
To drive home the point, today was the Sunday when people with birthdays or anniversaries in the current month go forward to be acknowledged and prayed over. I normally love this, because I really do have a high view of marriage. But after forty minutes of being told over and over that this is ideal (and implicitly, you, Tricia, are not ideal), it hurt to hear one last time, "Congratulations to these couples who are exhibiting the truth that marriage is the place where people best bear God's image!" I wanted to scream, "What about Jesus? What about Paul? What about that pesky verse that says it is better to be single than to be married? Why is this not a nuanced conversation!? Why do I feel like I don't exist?"
Instead, I practically ran to my car, throwing sunglasses on to cover the tears in my eyes. As the car door slammed shut behind me, I instantly began sobbing and didn't stop until I got home. Part of me sank into the desperate desire to be married and have kids--to be normal, to be the focus of the sermon, to be heard and valued in conservative evangelical culture. I just wanted to fit in. Another righteously angry part of me wanted to stay single forever, because I'm scared that if I ever do get married and have kids, I will be awash in relief at having arrived, and I'll blissfully forget the other singles who will still be ignored and undervalued. I hope I will not be that way, but I've seen how the glow of being an insider can make me oblivious to those on the outside.
I don't mean to bash on my church family or my pastor. I love my church to pieces, and I think this hit me so hard because I have such high standards. They've been very nuanced and balanced and thoughtful in the past, and I'm sure they will be again in the future. But today hurt.
That was a long preamble to the fact that: I went to church today. And I wish I hadn't.
It was Father's Day, which is never my favorite holiday. Same for Mother's Day when there is blanket celebration with no acknowledgement of potential pain (either from one's own parents or from not being a parent oneself). So there was the requisite adorable video and honoring of fathers. There was a quote from Martin Luther about how we ought to be grateful for our parents because they fed us instead of letting us die. All true, I suppose, but a single throw-away line about, "If you need to work through your family's dysfunction, go see a counselor," did little to honor the pain that I imagine at least 40% of the congregation felt. Fathers, man. They do a number on people. Sometimes it's "simply" lack of time or affection, and that's enough to screw someone up. But I've been a counselor for all of five months, and already I'm realizing how terrifyingly common it is for fathers to verbally, emotionally, physically, and emotionally abuse their children. Handwaving that fact away with a "thank God for your parents" felt very irresponsible.
But I expected that. What I didn't expect was a sermon based on the fact that humans bear God's image most fully in the family. There were, like, maybe a few sentences about how the Church is a family, but mostly even that was in the context of using the Church to bolster your own family unit.
As soon as it was said, my face shut down, my body turned in on itself, and I felt emotions crawling up my throat. Honestly, I don't even care that I disagree with that interpretation of Genesis 1:26-28. I personally believe that we bear God's image as individuals in relationships, but that there is no premium on marriage or parenthood as the relationship par excellence. And I believe that multiplying to fill and subdue the earth includes, but is not limited to, physical reproduction. But whatever. That was not the message being taught today. I could maybe have handled hearing that the family is the best way to represent God if even once the message had been directed to singles. "What about us?" I thought. "We're stuck with being sub-par image bearers. What do we do with that?" Hearing a callous "You just have to wait until you're married," would have pissed me off, but it would have been better than what actually happened, which is that myself and other singles (and the divorced and widowed and childless) were simply erased.
It got worse, of course. Because eventually we were addressed, in the form of a survey the entire congregation filled out after the sermon so that the church could better serve us. Nice thought, and there was even one-fourth of the page devoted to singles. There were sliding scales that asked if we thought God was using our singleness to sanctify and mature us, and I heavily circled the highest number in an attempt to prove my marital status doesn't affect my relationship with God. Then there were a couple yes/no questions. Two of the three were, "Are you saving sex for marriage?" and "Are you doing what you can to hold high the idea of marriage?" Wonderful, wonderful. My existence is summarily described by what I cannot do and by aspiring to that which I am not. My singleness is the absence of.
To drive home the point, today was the Sunday when people with birthdays or anniversaries in the current month go forward to be acknowledged and prayed over. I normally love this, because I really do have a high view of marriage. But after forty minutes of being told over and over that this is ideal (and implicitly, you, Tricia, are not ideal), it hurt to hear one last time, "Congratulations to these couples who are exhibiting the truth that marriage is the place where people best bear God's image!" I wanted to scream, "What about Jesus? What about Paul? What about that pesky verse that says it is better to be single than to be married? Why is this not a nuanced conversation!? Why do I feel like I don't exist?"
Instead, I practically ran to my car, throwing sunglasses on to cover the tears in my eyes. As the car door slammed shut behind me, I instantly began sobbing and didn't stop until I got home. Part of me sank into the desperate desire to be married and have kids--to be normal, to be the focus of the sermon, to be heard and valued in conservative evangelical culture. I just wanted to fit in. Another righteously angry part of me wanted to stay single forever, because I'm scared that if I ever do get married and have kids, I will be awash in relief at having arrived, and I'll blissfully forget the other singles who will still be ignored and undervalued. I hope I will not be that way, but I've seen how the glow of being an insider can make me oblivious to those on the outside.
I don't mean to bash on my church family or my pastor. I love my church to pieces, and I think this hit me so hard because I have such high standards. They've been very nuanced and balanced and thoughtful in the past, and I'm sure they will be again in the future. But today hurt.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Ministry of Singleness
When most people talk about a "ministry of singleness," they usually mean nuns or missionaries. And that's if singleness is even discussed as a positive lifestage at all. As someone who loves to travel and entertained the idea of being a missionary, this was not a wholly unappealing topic. To be honest, one of my very favorite things about being single is that I can, within the space of a day, decide I want to go somewhere and make travel arrangements to get there. The freedom to pack up and wander the world is a great joy.
But it's statistically unusual.
Let's say I travel one week in the summer and five weekends throughout the rest of the year. That is less than 5% of my year spent in a "ministry of singleness." I refuse to believe that God essentially skips over me during the routine of daily life until I pack my suitcases and head to Mongolia. That's not true. I do believe that, a lot of the time, and this sense of uselessness is what fuels the majority of my depressive symptoms.
Things are changing, however. I think I mentioned that last fall, I decided to invest more heavily in a couple in my small group. At the time, they had a toddler and a soon-to-be-baby, so I wanted to give them as many date nights as possible before their parental load doubled. The enormity of their gratitude floored me. I literally sat on their couch, ate their food, and watched their TV while their child slept, yet they acted as though I were doing something actually sacrificial.
It struck me that I was in a unique position. Other married people or parents can't afford to take care of someone else's children. Not for long, anyway. The burnout rate is significantly higher. Hiring a babysitter is fine, but they are teenagers and you have to pay them. But a friend who is perfectly fine getting her alone time in your house or hers, who cares? That's an asset. I'm an asset!
This is my ministry of singleness, and I'm looking to expand. I have freedom to travel, yes. But I also have emotional freedom, and the ability to pour myself into others because I'm not yet run dry. I'm sure there is more, and I'm so excited to realize that using my singleness to bless others might affect 100% of my life rather than 5.
But it's statistically unusual.
Let's say I travel one week in the summer and five weekends throughout the rest of the year. That is less than 5% of my year spent in a "ministry of singleness." I refuse to believe that God essentially skips over me during the routine of daily life until I pack my suitcases and head to Mongolia. That's not true. I do believe that, a lot of the time, and this sense of uselessness is what fuels the majority of my depressive symptoms.
Things are changing, however. I think I mentioned that last fall, I decided to invest more heavily in a couple in my small group. At the time, they had a toddler and a soon-to-be-baby, so I wanted to give them as many date nights as possible before their parental load doubled. The enormity of their gratitude floored me. I literally sat on their couch, ate their food, and watched their TV while their child slept, yet they acted as though I were doing something actually sacrificial.
It struck me that I was in a unique position. Other married people or parents can't afford to take care of someone else's children. Not for long, anyway. The burnout rate is significantly higher. Hiring a babysitter is fine, but they are teenagers and you have to pay them. But a friend who is perfectly fine getting her alone time in your house or hers, who cares? That's an asset. I'm an asset!
This is my ministry of singleness, and I'm looking to expand. I have freedom to travel, yes. But I also have emotional freedom, and the ability to pour myself into others because I'm not yet run dry. I'm sure there is more, and I'm so excited to realize that using my singleness to bless others might affect 100% of my life rather than 5.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
My Old Heart
I had a sweet moment with God, but it includes a curseword, so I'll put it under a cut.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Go Read This Other Thing
A super cool friend of mine sent me a link to this blog post after reading my musings on need buckets. It is so awesome, guys.
In my Social and Cultural Foundations class, we've discussed how gay and lesbian Christians must feel, especially those who believe they shouldn't act on their attraction but still feel ostracized by the Church. We've discussed how, if the Church is going to call gays and lesbians to a lifetime of celibacy, we need to do a better job of lifting up and celebrating singleness. As a single person, I say YES. And if I someday get married, I hope I will continue to defend the role of singleness, whether it is for a season or for a lifetime.
And single people need a lot from the Church. We crave just as much intimacy and love and commitment as married people, but we don't have that one person who is "supposed" to give it to us. Often, I think, we don't feel we have the right to express those needs. And that leads to loneliness, really intense loneliness, that is beautifully addressed in the above linked-to blog post.
The whole point of this is to recommend that post. Go read it. Here, I'll link to it again.
In my Social and Cultural Foundations class, we've discussed how gay and lesbian Christians must feel, especially those who believe they shouldn't act on their attraction but still feel ostracized by the Church. We've discussed how, if the Church is going to call gays and lesbians to a lifetime of celibacy, we need to do a better job of lifting up and celebrating singleness. As a single person, I say YES. And if I someday get married, I hope I will continue to defend the role of singleness, whether it is for a season or for a lifetime.
And single people need a lot from the Church. We crave just as much intimacy and love and commitment as married people, but we don't have that one person who is "supposed" to give it to us. Often, I think, we don't feel we have the right to express those needs. And that leads to loneliness, really intense loneliness, that is beautifully addressed in the above linked-to blog post.
The whole point of this is to recommend that post. Go read it. Here, I'll link to it again.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Nickel
Dr. Jones told a story in class the
other day that hit me hard. There was a little girl, he said, who
begged her dad for a nickel so she could buy a gumball from a
machine. When it wasn't working, she whined, “If you loved me, you
would give me a nickel!” Her dad smiled, leaned down, and said, “I
love you this much,” and
handed her a twenty dollar bill. She looked at it for a minute, then
threw it to the ground and cried, “But I wanted a nickel!”
It got me thinking
about how lately I've been so hung up on wanting to date someone,
wanting marriage to be on my horizon. I beg God and give God a list
of fifty reasons why this would be a good idea. I sulk and I whine
and I pretend like it's not bothering me to see if reverse psychology
will work on Him. I'm stuck on this boy-shaped nickel, ignoring and
even throwing away the costly gifts that He has already given me.
I am in a great
school, studying something I love, debt free. I'm going to get a job
in a profession that I am passionate about while so many people work
whatever they can get just to pay the bills. I have so many friends
in so many places who support me, love me, and listen to me. I live
in a big city just like I always wanted, and I'm learning to love the
small city from which I came. I have a wonderful brother who likes
to hang out with me. I have three roommates who were previously
strangers but we all get along. I have more books than I could ever
read, more TV shows than I could ever watch, and people with whom I
can discuss them. I found a church in Dallas who preaches grace and
a small group who makes me feel welcome, loved, and necessary. I
work for a wonderful family who treats me as one of their own,
nannying two kids who could be my own, where going to work means fun
and not stress. I'm healthy, which isn't fair, because I don't take
care of myself. So much of my life is blessing—extravagant
blessings, even. God has showered me in twenty dollar bills, and I'm
still whining for that nickel.
It's a nice
nickel, I've heard. And I do want to be married someday. But I want
to appreciate the gifts that God has already given me, and trust that
He gives gifts in His perfect timing, which sometimes means never.
And that's okay, because He is good. I want to know that, deeply and
continuously.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Keep Some Love To Yourself
"It's easy to hate yourself when all your love is inside someone else."
This song lyric blew me away a couple days ago, and I'm not done thinking about it. I think it is the key to my low self-worth. I have a tendency to fall in love easily and deeply. I crush on a guy, and I immediately imagine our joint future. I wonder if he is The One, I smile into the middle distance, I text and delete and look through pictures.
I put all my love inside someone else.
And when they reject me, it's easy to hate myself. Because if this guy who I think is so awesome does not think the same of me, then obviously there's something wrong with me. I'm unloveable. I'm disgusting. I'm too neurotic, too passionate, too different, too tall, too opinionated, too ugly.
It's easy to hate myself when all my love is inside someone else.
So what needs to change? I need to keep some love for myself. I need to rest in the assurance that I like who I am, even if some guy doesn't. If I give someone else the power to decide if I have worth or not, I will always be disappointed. People, in all their glory and folly, will always disappoint. Even if someday a guy I like feels the same way about me, there will still be days when he says something unkind or unthinking, and I'll be back in the same pit of self-doubt.
I need to trust my own judgment.
(I know some readers will think, you should find your identity in God! Which is true. Of course I do not fully understand God's love, but most of me thinks, "Well of course God loves me. I want people and cute boys to love me just as much!" But yes, I can always learn to lean more fully on God's opinion of me.)
This song lyric blew me away a couple days ago, and I'm not done thinking about it. I think it is the key to my low self-worth. I have a tendency to fall in love easily and deeply. I crush on a guy, and I immediately imagine our joint future. I wonder if he is The One, I smile into the middle distance, I text and delete and look through pictures.
I put all my love inside someone else.
And when they reject me, it's easy to hate myself. Because if this guy who I think is so awesome does not think the same of me, then obviously there's something wrong with me. I'm unloveable. I'm disgusting. I'm too neurotic, too passionate, too different, too tall, too opinionated, too ugly.
It's easy to hate myself when all my love is inside someone else.
So what needs to change? I need to keep some love for myself. I need to rest in the assurance that I like who I am, even if some guy doesn't. If I give someone else the power to decide if I have worth or not, I will always be disappointed. People, in all their glory and folly, will always disappoint. Even if someday a guy I like feels the same way about me, there will still be days when he says something unkind or unthinking, and I'll be back in the same pit of self-doubt.
I need to trust my own judgment.
(I know some readers will think, you should find your identity in God! Which is true. Of course I do not fully understand God's love, but most of me thinks, "Well of course God loves me. I want people and cute boys to love me just as much!" But yes, I can always learn to lean more fully on God's opinion of me.)
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
We Are Not Alone
Man. Sometimes. Sometimes I don't even know that I'm feeling bad until I say, "Hey, this sucks" and I realize, OH YEAH IT DOES.
I'm super excited about Emily's wedding coming up. But hanging over every sentence, every plan, is this gigantic floating font that says, "SHE'S THREE YEARS YOUNGER THAN YOU. YOU'RE SO FREAKING OLD AND PAST YOUR PRIME." And I try to ignore that, because her wedding is soooo not about me.
But then tonight, Liz and Mallory and Melanie and I were all talking via Facebook messages. We were catching up on things, and I just blurted out my self-pity, and Mallory, dear sweet awesome friend, said, "Oh, so what gospel truths do you need to cling to?"
Which. HAHAHA how am I so blessed to have such awesome, Christ-centered friends? We all got into the discussion, talking about our needs to be validated, our fears that as single women we are missing out, or are unwanted. And it was just so funny. To hear beautiful truth, and then me, the stick in the mud, saying, "I don't even care that God loves me. JUST LET ME SULK. But also, yeah, it's cool that God loves me. BUT DOES THAT MATTER? I want other people to love me too!"
And while the other three would speak truth, they each laughed and we all shared stories of our struggles with 1) feeling left out of the marriage game, 2) resenting anyone who looks down on us or pities us for being left out of the marriage game, and 3) wanting people to pity us for being left out of the marriage game. Emotions, they are confusing.
We had a lot of circular conversations, and I'm not sure I really grasped at any truths that will help me through the wedding, but I did grasp that I have these three amazing women in my life, who are SO STINKING AWESOME but ridiculously feel bad about themselves. And I realized, maybe we're all stupid. Maybe we're all awesome, and we should stop feeling bad about ourselves. And since that isn't going to happen, I'm so grateful for their honesty and for knowing that we are all walking this road together.
"We are not alone/in the dark with our demons."
Basically, friendships are good. They are so so good.
I'm super excited about Emily's wedding coming up. But hanging over every sentence, every plan, is this gigantic floating font that says, "SHE'S THREE YEARS YOUNGER THAN YOU. YOU'RE SO FREAKING OLD AND PAST YOUR PRIME." And I try to ignore that, because her wedding is soooo not about me.
But then tonight, Liz and Mallory and Melanie and I were all talking via Facebook messages. We were catching up on things, and I just blurted out my self-pity, and Mallory, dear sweet awesome friend, said, "Oh, so what gospel truths do you need to cling to?"
Which. HAHAHA how am I so blessed to have such awesome, Christ-centered friends? We all got into the discussion, talking about our needs to be validated, our fears that as single women we are missing out, or are unwanted. And it was just so funny. To hear beautiful truth, and then me, the stick in the mud, saying, "I don't even care that God loves me. JUST LET ME SULK. But also, yeah, it's cool that God loves me. BUT DOES THAT MATTER? I want other people to love me too!"
And while the other three would speak truth, they each laughed and we all shared stories of our struggles with 1) feeling left out of the marriage game, 2) resenting anyone who looks down on us or pities us for being left out of the marriage game, and 3) wanting people to pity us for being left out of the marriage game. Emotions, they are confusing.
We had a lot of circular conversations, and I'm not sure I really grasped at any truths that will help me through the wedding, but I did grasp that I have these three amazing women in my life, who are SO STINKING AWESOME but ridiculously feel bad about themselves. And I realized, maybe we're all stupid. Maybe we're all awesome, and we should stop feeling bad about ourselves. And since that isn't going to happen, I'm so grateful for their honesty and for knowing that we are all walking this road together.
"We are not alone/in the dark with our demons."
Basically, friendships are good. They are so so good.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
My First and Last Pub Crawl
On Saturday I experienced the Dallas bar scene, and it was the worst. To be fair, the evening started out lovely. My friend was celebrating her birthday with a party hat pub crawl, so we wore party hats, and during dinner I met some of her other friends. Good times. Then we went to another bar down the street, and we all sat around two tables pulled together, and I got to know other friends who now happened to be sitting near me. Then we crossed the street and went upstairs to a techno dance floor with glow-bands, which, obviously, was awesome.
*mild, or maybe not so mild, obscene content ahead. I dunno how to do proper warnings. IT WASN'T MY CUP OF TEA, basically.*
But then. We ended the night down several roads with a couple turns, somewhere I wasn't familiar. We went into a bar, and suddenly after midnight, everyone in the world was out and about. My birthday friend had decided it would be a good idea to get a kiss on the cheek for each of her 27 years. I thought this was a bad idea, but when she started with her guy friends, it was adorable and sweet. Then random guys at the bar were pulled over.
I have to admit I shamelessly abused her. When one guy came up to me, I grinned and pointed toward my friend, "Kiss her cheek! She wants her cheek kissed! Her, not me." One guy obliged, then pushed his crotch into my thigh and whispered in my ear. Since bars are notoriously loud, I couldn't hear him, so I grimaced and scooted away. He followed, continuing to press against me and shouting. Finally I worked out what he was saying: "He's a stripper!"
I said alright, whatever, and when he turned away I turned to my friend and pointed to the other guy, screaming, "He's a stripper!!" My friend thought this was hilarious, so he was beckoned. After understanding the kiss thing, he licked up her cheek. It was, well, repulsive a bit, but also hilarious, because at least she could say, "A stripper licked me on my birthday!"
Around this time all of her friends left minus one. It was 1:00 in the morning, and somehow a group of them all said goodbye at once, and they told me and our mutual friend to get the birthday girl home safe. I was so beyond done with the bar scene by this point, and for goodness sake, it was past midnight and I had a half hour drive home ahead of me, and I wanted to sleep. But they were gone, and I didn't have it in me to leave my birthday friend alone with just one other person.
We were still sitting in the corner of a bar, and I cannot describe how little fun I was having. The place was so loud, and so crowded, and there were eyes everywhere, and people touching me that I didn't know, and I just like to have my personal space respected, you know? Wanting to get the show on the road, I said, "Are we still doing the kissing thing? Because we should maybe move around. Find more guys." So practical, I am. So we did, pushing toward the back of the bar, and yeesh gross ugh these two guys came up to us.
They were both tall, and one stood beside me. He grabbed my arm and twisted my wrist so he could see my tattoo, pulling me into his side in the process. Whenever he talked he leaned close to my face, frequently spraying me with saliva. His friend was chatting up my mutual friend, and another guy who had given birthday girl a kiss was back for more, I guess.
Slobber Guy: What an idiot. What kind of idiot wears sandals? (referring to the guy chatting up birthday girl)
Me: Well, it's hot outside.
SG: Real men wear close-toed shoes.
Me: Oh, yeah? Anyone you know?
SG: I'm awful. I'm really judgmental, you might have noticed.
Me: I did notice.
SG: But you're fine. I give you a pass. In fact, if the world were ending, and I could only save 20 people, you'd be at like, 25 right now.
Me: I'm sorry you only know 24 people you like better than me.
SG: Hah! Good one. I'm going to get another beer. You want anything?
Me: No.
SG: Really?
Me: Yes.
Let me insert here, studying feminist things can make a girl a little leery of men. So this whole exchange just absolutely repulsed me, because the only reason I could see for him wanting to buy me a drink is so that I would be just drunk enough not to resist his inevitable sexual advances. Disgusting. Underhanded.
Also, if you wear a party hat to a bar, drunk people think it is entirely within their right to pet it, move it around on your head, or gesture obscenely toward it.
Slobber Guy came back, but I suddenly thought of something I had to tell my mutual friend, which could only be spoken into her right ear, so I moved to her other side. Where "Nice" Guy was standing. He was pleasant for awhile, mostly making fun of his friend. Good tactic, because I didn't like his friend. I kept trying to convey my dire need to escape to either of my friends with my eyeballs, but they didn't seem to catch the hint.
"Nice" Guy: You both seem way too sober for 2:00 in the morning.
Me: We go to seminary.
"N"G: All of y'all!?
Me: Yes. We go to seminary. So. No drinking.
"N"G: Well, okay. I love Jesus! Woo hoo! Halle-f**king-lujiah! Jesus!
Me: Aw, jeez.
I made serious eyes this times, and birthday girl said we were all tired. They guys tried to hug us as we struggled past them, but I skittered away and gave high fives instead. When we got outside, birthday girl looked upset.
Me: You look like you're not having as much fun anymore. With the kissing thing.
BG: They just. They started, you know. Taking advantage, and instead of just kissing my cheek they would linger or touch my waist, and just.
Me: THAT WAS AWFUL. I'm sorry. Happy birthday. Just, ugh. Right there, I didn't love that.
BG: Let's go meet my friend at another bar.
Me: Wut.
So we walked to yet another bar. It was 2 a.m. by now, and everyone on the sidewalks and hanging over bar patios screamed "happy birthday" at us, or sang at us. I won't lie, I kind of liked that part. Drunk people are often very sweet, when they aren't being gross.
Luckily birthday girl could not contact her friend, so we did not go into another bar. Instead, one of the guys who had abandoned us an hour earlier drove to pick us up, and when we were dropped off in front of her apartment, I positively fled to my car and sped home.
Here's the thing. I knew the bar scene existed. I knew that people spend their weekends drinking with friends, meeting people, maybe hooking up. But I do not know how they do it. I hated the aura of the whole thing, this idea that personal space no longer matters, that everyone is there to chat up someone else, that personalities don't matter so much as the vague shape of being the opposite sex.
And I hated even more that I had willingly walked into that world, that by going into a bar after midnight, I was tacitly giving my acceptance to be leered at, grabbed, and spit upon. Or told nasty things, I didn't even relate the worst things guys told me, ugh. The guys I met at the bar quite literally had only one thing on their mind, and they knew that I knew, and they didn't care. That was the whole point of the thing.
I can't do "romance" that way. My interactions with the opposite sex go like this: Notice someone is attractive. Initiate awkward conversations. Continue awkward conversations for several weeks. Perhaps escalate to flirting, by which I mean lingering eye contact and maybe punching of shoulders. Pine after guy for two or more years.
Obviously, I'm not cut out for pub crawls. When I talked to Liz, she said she'd gone along on a few when she was in college, and she kind of enjoyed the attention. Which, I get, I guess. But attraction for me is all about words, about joking and questions and personality. You can't really have conversations in crowded loud bars. And anyway, even if a guy finds me attractive enough to have sex, well. I'm educated and cynical. All guys want that, I'm just a warm body, get away from me.
So. That was my Saturday.
*mild, or maybe not so mild, obscene content ahead. I dunno how to do proper warnings. IT WASN'T MY CUP OF TEA, basically.*
But then. We ended the night down several roads with a couple turns, somewhere I wasn't familiar. We went into a bar, and suddenly after midnight, everyone in the world was out and about. My birthday friend had decided it would be a good idea to get a kiss on the cheek for each of her 27 years. I thought this was a bad idea, but when she started with her guy friends, it was adorable and sweet. Then random guys at the bar were pulled over.
I have to admit I shamelessly abused her. When one guy came up to me, I grinned and pointed toward my friend, "Kiss her cheek! She wants her cheek kissed! Her, not me." One guy obliged, then pushed his crotch into my thigh and whispered in my ear. Since bars are notoriously loud, I couldn't hear him, so I grimaced and scooted away. He followed, continuing to press against me and shouting. Finally I worked out what he was saying: "He's a stripper!"
I said alright, whatever, and when he turned away I turned to my friend and pointed to the other guy, screaming, "He's a stripper!!" My friend thought this was hilarious, so he was beckoned. After understanding the kiss thing, he licked up her cheek. It was, well, repulsive a bit, but also hilarious, because at least she could say, "A stripper licked me on my birthday!"
Around this time all of her friends left minus one. It was 1:00 in the morning, and somehow a group of them all said goodbye at once, and they told me and our mutual friend to get the birthday girl home safe. I was so beyond done with the bar scene by this point, and for goodness sake, it was past midnight and I had a half hour drive home ahead of me, and I wanted to sleep. But they were gone, and I didn't have it in me to leave my birthday friend alone with just one other person.
We were still sitting in the corner of a bar, and I cannot describe how little fun I was having. The place was so loud, and so crowded, and there were eyes everywhere, and people touching me that I didn't know, and I just like to have my personal space respected, you know? Wanting to get the show on the road, I said, "Are we still doing the kissing thing? Because we should maybe move around. Find more guys." So practical, I am. So we did, pushing toward the back of the bar, and yeesh gross ugh these two guys came up to us.
They were both tall, and one stood beside me. He grabbed my arm and twisted my wrist so he could see my tattoo, pulling me into his side in the process. Whenever he talked he leaned close to my face, frequently spraying me with saliva. His friend was chatting up my mutual friend, and another guy who had given birthday girl a kiss was back for more, I guess.
Slobber Guy: What an idiot. What kind of idiot wears sandals? (referring to the guy chatting up birthday girl)
Me: Well, it's hot outside.
SG: Real men wear close-toed shoes.
Me: Oh, yeah? Anyone you know?
SG: I'm awful. I'm really judgmental, you might have noticed.
Me: I did notice.
SG: But you're fine. I give you a pass. In fact, if the world were ending, and I could only save 20 people, you'd be at like, 25 right now.
Me: I'm sorry you only know 24 people you like better than me.
SG: Hah! Good one. I'm going to get another beer. You want anything?
Me: No.
SG: Really?
Me: Yes.
Let me insert here, studying feminist things can make a girl a little leery of men. So this whole exchange just absolutely repulsed me, because the only reason I could see for him wanting to buy me a drink is so that I would be just drunk enough not to resist his inevitable sexual advances. Disgusting. Underhanded.
Also, if you wear a party hat to a bar, drunk people think it is entirely within their right to pet it, move it around on your head, or gesture obscenely toward it.
Slobber Guy came back, but I suddenly thought of something I had to tell my mutual friend, which could only be spoken into her right ear, so I moved to her other side. Where "Nice" Guy was standing. He was pleasant for awhile, mostly making fun of his friend. Good tactic, because I didn't like his friend. I kept trying to convey my dire need to escape to either of my friends with my eyeballs, but they didn't seem to catch the hint.
"Nice" Guy: You both seem way too sober for 2:00 in the morning.
Me: We go to seminary.
"N"G: All of y'all!?
Me: Yes. We go to seminary. So. No drinking.
"N"G: Well, okay. I love Jesus! Woo hoo! Halle-f**king-lujiah! Jesus!
Me: Aw, jeez.
I made serious eyes this times, and birthday girl said we were all tired. They guys tried to hug us as we struggled past them, but I skittered away and gave high fives instead. When we got outside, birthday girl looked upset.
Me: You look like you're not having as much fun anymore. With the kissing thing.
BG: They just. They started, you know. Taking advantage, and instead of just kissing my cheek they would linger or touch my waist, and just.
Me: THAT WAS AWFUL. I'm sorry. Happy birthday. Just, ugh. Right there, I didn't love that.
BG: Let's go meet my friend at another bar.
Me: Wut.
So we walked to yet another bar. It was 2 a.m. by now, and everyone on the sidewalks and hanging over bar patios screamed "happy birthday" at us, or sang at us. I won't lie, I kind of liked that part. Drunk people are often very sweet, when they aren't being gross.
Luckily birthday girl could not contact her friend, so we did not go into another bar. Instead, one of the guys who had abandoned us an hour earlier drove to pick us up, and when we were dropped off in front of her apartment, I positively fled to my car and sped home.
Here's the thing. I knew the bar scene existed. I knew that people spend their weekends drinking with friends, meeting people, maybe hooking up. But I do not know how they do it. I hated the aura of the whole thing, this idea that personal space no longer matters, that everyone is there to chat up someone else, that personalities don't matter so much as the vague shape of being the opposite sex.
And I hated even more that I had willingly walked into that world, that by going into a bar after midnight, I was tacitly giving my acceptance to be leered at, grabbed, and spit upon. Or told nasty things, I didn't even relate the worst things guys told me, ugh. The guys I met at the bar quite literally had only one thing on their mind, and they knew that I knew, and they didn't care. That was the whole point of the thing.
I can't do "romance" that way. My interactions with the opposite sex go like this: Notice someone is attractive. Initiate awkward conversations. Continue awkward conversations for several weeks. Perhaps escalate to flirting, by which I mean lingering eye contact and maybe punching of shoulders. Pine after guy for two or more years.
Obviously, I'm not cut out for pub crawls. When I talked to Liz, she said she'd gone along on a few when she was in college, and she kind of enjoyed the attention. Which, I get, I guess. But attraction for me is all about words, about joking and questions and personality. You can't really have conversations in crowded loud bars. And anyway, even if a guy finds me attractive enough to have sex, well. I'm educated and cynical. All guys want that, I'm just a warm body, get away from me.
So. That was my Saturday.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Too Close
There are times in my life when something is said that, though not pointed in and of itself, strikes right at my core. On our roadtrip, I rehashed boy things with Liz, and talked about how so often I live in a fantasy world of "what ifs" and daydreams. Then we listened to this really excellent song that included the lyrics:
"We are the reckless/ We are the wild youth/ Chasing visions of our futures"
I yelled, "NO. That hits too close to home!" at my car stereo.
Today I was once again rehashing boy things with Liz. This time she said something about how maybe there was selfishness inherent in my desire, just kind of in passing, and she kept on listing possibilities. But I stopped, and when she breathed I said, "No no no. You're right. Oh my gosh. I'm being selfish."
She backpedaled and said of course I wasn't, but the (positive) damage was done.
I try to be a pretty self-aware person, so it's weird when someone else speaks truth into my life about myself. But it's good. It makes me realize I am a mystery even unto myself, that there are depths to be explored and hidden motivations. I am fearfully and wonderfully made, basically, so much more complicated than I give myself credit for.
"We are the reckless/ We are the wild youth/ Chasing visions of our futures"
I yelled, "NO. That hits too close to home!" at my car stereo.
Today I was once again rehashing boy things with Liz. This time she said something about how maybe there was selfishness inherent in my desire, just kind of in passing, and she kept on listing possibilities. But I stopped, and when she breathed I said, "No no no. You're right. Oh my gosh. I'm being selfish."
She backpedaled and said of course I wasn't, but the (positive) damage was done.
I try to be a pretty self-aware person, so it's weird when someone else speaks truth into my life about myself. But it's good. It makes me realize I am a mystery even unto myself, that there are depths to be explored and hidden motivations. I am fearfully and wonderfully made, basically, so much more complicated than I give myself credit for.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Single Sexuality
As a single woman growing up in the Church, I was given a rotating combination of these messages: 1) Don't lead your brothers astray by dressing immodestly! 2) You're so good; you'll definitely find a husband soon! 3) Use your singleness to serve God, and maybe you'll find a husband in the process!
I've always felt less-than for being single. Married couples talk about their relationship as an exclusive understanding of God and a necessary part of deeper sanctification. Their eyes glaze as they rhapsodize about the wonder of being married, and even though I am a fan of marriage (I kind of have to be if I'm considering a career in marriage counseling), I often left church gatherings feeling as though I were missing out on some grander plan of God's. Worse, since I'm pretty open to getting married but it hasn't happened, it felt like God was keeping me from knowing Him at this supposed deeper level.
I felt like a kid who was made to walk through a candy shop and then laughed at, because hahahaha, you can't have any of it!
Which is why reading Soul Virgins by Doug Rosenau and Michael Todd Wilson was a breath of fresh air. It turns out, dear readers, that single Christians are not defective. And if you think that deep-seated fear sounds ridiculous, please know that I am aware of its ridiculousness. No one ever, to my face, told me that I was inferior for being single. But I think we all ought to step back and ask what it is about church culture that made me feel that way. And based on the numerous single classmates who confessed to devouring the book through tears, I'm not the only one who feels this way.
What makes the book so meaningful? I'd rather you read it than take my word for it, but what sticks out the most is that Rosenau and Wilson gave single Christians a purpose. We aren't sitting in the waiting room, twiddling our fingers and fretting over whether or not there is a husband or wife in our future. Nor are we shutting down our sex drives, reminding ourselves that sex is bad, bad, bad, until that magical day when we might get married and suddenly a switch will be flipped and sex will be good, better, best! Studies have shown that doesn't happen. Repressed Christians often have terrible sex lives until they can work through those issues.
So what does it mean to be single, created by God as a sexual being?
Single Christians Are Sexual
There are boundaries that ought to be in place, of course. Erotic sexual behaviors are for marriage. But single Christians ought to intentionally seek out relationships with the opposite sex. "It is not good for man to be alone." Men and women were created to need each other, to learn from each other, and to support each other. This is not simply the marriage relationship. This is humanity. It is in singleness that we inclusively relate to men and women, affirming who God made them and reminding them of their awesomeness.
In Soul Virgins, the phrase "righteous flirting" is used, which is just strange enough to pique my interest. Make out sessions and copping feels is not on the table. But Dr. Rosenau extends so much grace and trust, encouraging men and women to be carefully intimate with each other, to allow touch (many singles are desperately touch-deprived), and to embrace their sexuality rather than flee from it.
What is Sexuality?
Maybe your face is contorted in horror. Singles embracing their sexuality? The concept was weird for me at first too. It still is, because it goes against all the hyper-sensitive rules I internalized growing up. So let's take a step back.
Sexuality, we were taught, is God's gift to humanity that reveals His heart of relationality. Sexuality is a constant reminder that we need to be close to others, that we crave intimacy and the ability to share our life with someone else. With married couples, that intimacy is expressed exclusively. Much stricter boundaries are raised around a married couple, and with those higher boundaries come an increased amount of allowed activities with each other (I mean sex).
Single men and women are sexual too. We crave intimacy, and here's the thing. We're allowed it. What's more, we can express our need for intimacy inclusively. I can share my heart deeply with many people, unencumbered by many of the walls surrounding a marriage. I'm not saying married people cannot have intimate relationships with someone other than their spouses; in fact, I am definitively in favor to marrieds having close friends. But there is still a priority to one's spouse that a single person does not have to worry about.
Single Sexuality as Freedom
Part of the problem is that we so often think sexuality means sex and nothing more. This is the cause of many sexual sins. Sexuality needs to be reframed, and singles need to start considering whether or not they are looking to get non-sexual needs met in sexual ways.
Loneliness is a huge concern for singles. Many get entangled in romantic relationships to ease that ache, and many fall into one-night stands for the momentary closeness provided. But loneliness does not have to be cured with sex. In fact, it cannot be, not permanently. Loneliness is about something else. Our culture is incredibly sexual, and most of us have bought the lie that sex is the answer for everything. It is not. It is wonderful, and singles can long for the physical, emotional, and spiritual union of sex. But a lot of what we long for is something else.
So when we've sorted out our needs and let them catapult us into intimate relationships with men and women, what do we do with the legitimate sexual frustration? Get proactive! Many of the world's greatest books, paintings, or inventions were created by single people. We've got the time. We've got the focus. We're free from a commitment to someone else's wellbeing.
Similarly, singles have freedoms married people don't have. During our lecture on this topic, my heart was heavy, because it was married couples telling us to rejoice in our singleness, and I didn't believe that they actually thought we had something good going for us. But then Debbie Wade interjected and said, "Sometimes at church there's an opportunity for a service or a mission trip, and I desperately want to go. But then I think about how that would affect my husband, and I have to let it go. I'm limited because I'm married." That simple story was like water on my soul. I vibrated in my seat, so thrilled to have heard a married woman say there were benefits to being single.
I'm embarrassed by my reaction. I'm ashamed that I need so much to be affirmed, to be told that I have worth as a single woman. I have not heard often enough or honestly enough (because I won't believe you if it's flippant or obviously an attempt to placate my doubts) the Church affirm that God created me this way, that He loves me as a single person, that I am good and complete right now.
I'm not alone in this feeling. Everyone I talked to in my class who was single felt like we were hearing something new. If you are reading this and are single, I hope you take some comfort in what I wrote. If you are reading this and are married, I ask you to think long and hard about how you can joyfully display the meaning of your marriage while simultaneously affirming and humanizing the single people in your life.
This is an issue that the Church must address if it wants to address an ever-growing population of men and women who could be unrestrained workers for Christ, but who often sit at home waiting for the spouse who will "allow" them to be fully functional in the Body of Christ.
I've always felt less-than for being single. Married couples talk about their relationship as an exclusive understanding of God and a necessary part of deeper sanctification. Their eyes glaze as they rhapsodize about the wonder of being married, and even though I am a fan of marriage (I kind of have to be if I'm considering a career in marriage counseling), I often left church gatherings feeling as though I were missing out on some grander plan of God's. Worse, since I'm pretty open to getting married but it hasn't happened, it felt like God was keeping me from knowing Him at this supposed deeper level.
I felt like a kid who was made to walk through a candy shop and then laughed at, because hahahaha, you can't have any of it!
Which is why reading Soul Virgins by Doug Rosenau and Michael Todd Wilson was a breath of fresh air. It turns out, dear readers, that single Christians are not defective. And if you think that deep-seated fear sounds ridiculous, please know that I am aware of its ridiculousness. No one ever, to my face, told me that I was inferior for being single. But I think we all ought to step back and ask what it is about church culture that made me feel that way. And based on the numerous single classmates who confessed to devouring the book through tears, I'm not the only one who feels this way.
What makes the book so meaningful? I'd rather you read it than take my word for it, but what sticks out the most is that Rosenau and Wilson gave single Christians a purpose. We aren't sitting in the waiting room, twiddling our fingers and fretting over whether or not there is a husband or wife in our future. Nor are we shutting down our sex drives, reminding ourselves that sex is bad, bad, bad, until that magical day when we might get married and suddenly a switch will be flipped and sex will be good, better, best! Studies have shown that doesn't happen. Repressed Christians often have terrible sex lives until they can work through those issues.
So what does it mean to be single, created by God as a sexual being?
Single Christians Are Sexual
There are boundaries that ought to be in place, of course. Erotic sexual behaviors are for marriage. But single Christians ought to intentionally seek out relationships with the opposite sex. "It is not good for man to be alone." Men and women were created to need each other, to learn from each other, and to support each other. This is not simply the marriage relationship. This is humanity. It is in singleness that we inclusively relate to men and women, affirming who God made them and reminding them of their awesomeness.
In Soul Virgins, the phrase "righteous flirting" is used, which is just strange enough to pique my interest. Make out sessions and copping feels is not on the table. But Dr. Rosenau extends so much grace and trust, encouraging men and women to be carefully intimate with each other, to allow touch (many singles are desperately touch-deprived), and to embrace their sexuality rather than flee from it.
What is Sexuality?
Maybe your face is contorted in horror. Singles embracing their sexuality? The concept was weird for me at first too. It still is, because it goes against all the hyper-sensitive rules I internalized growing up. So let's take a step back.
Sexuality, we were taught, is God's gift to humanity that reveals His heart of relationality. Sexuality is a constant reminder that we need to be close to others, that we crave intimacy and the ability to share our life with someone else. With married couples, that intimacy is expressed exclusively. Much stricter boundaries are raised around a married couple, and with those higher boundaries come an increased amount of allowed activities with each other (I mean sex).
Single men and women are sexual too. We crave intimacy, and here's the thing. We're allowed it. What's more, we can express our need for intimacy inclusively. I can share my heart deeply with many people, unencumbered by many of the walls surrounding a marriage. I'm not saying married people cannot have intimate relationships with someone other than their spouses; in fact, I am definitively in favor to marrieds having close friends. But there is still a priority to one's spouse that a single person does not have to worry about.
Single Sexuality as Freedom
Part of the problem is that we so often think sexuality means sex and nothing more. This is the cause of many sexual sins. Sexuality needs to be reframed, and singles need to start considering whether or not they are looking to get non-sexual needs met in sexual ways.
Loneliness is a huge concern for singles. Many get entangled in romantic relationships to ease that ache, and many fall into one-night stands for the momentary closeness provided. But loneliness does not have to be cured with sex. In fact, it cannot be, not permanently. Loneliness is about something else. Our culture is incredibly sexual, and most of us have bought the lie that sex is the answer for everything. It is not. It is wonderful, and singles can long for the physical, emotional, and spiritual union of sex. But a lot of what we long for is something else.
So when we've sorted out our needs and let them catapult us into intimate relationships with men and women, what do we do with the legitimate sexual frustration? Get proactive! Many of the world's greatest books, paintings, or inventions were created by single people. We've got the time. We've got the focus. We're free from a commitment to someone else's wellbeing.
Similarly, singles have freedoms married people don't have. During our lecture on this topic, my heart was heavy, because it was married couples telling us to rejoice in our singleness, and I didn't believe that they actually thought we had something good going for us. But then Debbie Wade interjected and said, "Sometimes at church there's an opportunity for a service or a mission trip, and I desperately want to go. But then I think about how that would affect my husband, and I have to let it go. I'm limited because I'm married." That simple story was like water on my soul. I vibrated in my seat, so thrilled to have heard a married woman say there were benefits to being single.
I'm embarrassed by my reaction. I'm ashamed that I need so much to be affirmed, to be told that I have worth as a single woman. I have not heard often enough or honestly enough (because I won't believe you if it's flippant or obviously an attempt to placate my doubts) the Church affirm that God created me this way, that He loves me as a single person, that I am good and complete right now.
I'm not alone in this feeling. Everyone I talked to in my class who was single felt like we were hearing something new. If you are reading this and are single, I hope you take some comfort in what I wrote. If you are reading this and are married, I ask you to think long and hard about how you can joyfully display the meaning of your marriage while simultaneously affirming and humanizing the single people in your life.
This is an issue that the Church must address if it wants to address an ever-growing population of men and women who could be unrestrained workers for Christ, but who often sit at home waiting for the spouse who will "allow" them to be fully functional in the Body of Christ.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Loving Until It Hurts and Not Turning Cynical
I was just having a conversation with Liz about how my continual running up against not-love has made me bitter and jaded. Then I burst out laughing, because I was freaking lying. The love story of my life is that I like someone and they don't like me back. After twenty-five years of that crap, I thought I ought to be bitter and jaded, so I said I was. But that isn't true. All it takes is the fluttering beginnings of a new crush, and I am right back to gasping adoration and painfully hoping for a future. My heart never seems to learn. And I guess that's a good thing? To hope, I mean. That is the Christian story, that darkness leads to light, that death leads to life. We are a people built on hope fulfilled and hope not yet accomplished. So, it's good that I keep hoping for love. But at the same time, it suuuucks. And then I found a poem!
a tale about one single person
i wish this was the story of how i became bitter
cold-hearted
or evil
instead
it's the story of how i cared so much that it hurt
it hurt
it still does
(r.d.)
Since I'm also currently writing a paper on my Myers-Briggs personality type (INFJ), I can psychologically conclude that I am a classic F--I feel deeply and widely, and I am the absolute worst at turning off my emotions. So I'll just have to keep living with this, I guess!
a tale about one single person
i wish this was the story of how i became bitter
cold-hearted
or evil
instead
it's the story of how i cared so much that it hurt
it hurt
it still does
(r.d.)
Since I'm also currently writing a paper on my Myers-Briggs personality type (INFJ), I can psychologically conclude that I am a classic F--I feel deeply and widely, and I am the absolute worst at turning off my emotions. So I'll just have to keep living with this, I guess!
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Career Change
I've changed my mind about what I want to do with my life! Again!
So remember when--no, of course you don't, it's my memory. After I lived in Senegal, I took a spiritual gifts inventory, and Knowledge and Encouragement were near the top. That made sense, because I realized one of my favorite things about being in Senegal was telling everyone about it, and then seeing my friends and family travel there themselves and work alongside the Forsythes. I like to learn, and then I like to encourage other people to learn the same things.
Which is, well, exactly what I do with this blog and my Facebook statuses. I stir things up, I make people think from a different angle, I share what I learn.
It should not be surprising that I am SO excited about an elective I am taking this summer.
Sexual Educator Certification I. AW YEAH.
This is what I do. My poor married friends know that the first thing I ask after their honeymoon is how their sex life is, and then I give advice. I never let lack of experience stand in the way of my wisdom. I am a fan of making people uncomfortable, which is a convenient benefit to talking about sex. Ah, the days of living with Tim and Erin, discussing penises and male lactation. I didn't live with Tim, he was just around a lot.
Anyway, this first class (I of III) covers three topics: single sexuality, male sexuality and married sexuality. I AM SO STINKING READY FOR THIS.
Last semester we learned about different counseling career paths: lay counselor, pastoral counselor, professional counselor, or expertise counselor. I've just been assuming I would do the traditional professional counseling, but since that class I've been waffling toward expertise counseling. That means you, well, become an expert in a certain field, and teach it to others. Oh ho, that sounds like what I do for fun!
Maybe married couples won't want a single woman teaching them about sexuality, but probably some won't mind. Regardless, I'm also super excited about this single sexuality topic, and how fun it would be to reach out to a population that is largely ignored where sexuality is concerned (except to say STOP IT, IT'S ALL EVIL FOR YOU RIGHT NOW).
Literally the only thing that makes me uncomfortable with this idea is that I will have to introduce myself as "Tricia, Sex Expert." HAHAHA just kidding that sounds awesome.
So remember when--no, of course you don't, it's my memory. After I lived in Senegal, I took a spiritual gifts inventory, and Knowledge and Encouragement were near the top. That made sense, because I realized one of my favorite things about being in Senegal was telling everyone about it, and then seeing my friends and family travel there themselves and work alongside the Forsythes. I like to learn, and then I like to encourage other people to learn the same things.
Which is, well, exactly what I do with this blog and my Facebook statuses. I stir things up, I make people think from a different angle, I share what I learn.
It should not be surprising that I am SO excited about an elective I am taking this summer.
Sexual Educator Certification I. AW YEAH.
This is what I do. My poor married friends know that the first thing I ask after their honeymoon is how their sex life is, and then I give advice. I never let lack of experience stand in the way of my wisdom. I am a fan of making people uncomfortable, which is a convenient benefit to talking about sex. Ah, the days of living with Tim and Erin, discussing penises and male lactation. I didn't live with Tim, he was just around a lot.
Anyway, this first class (I of III) covers three topics: single sexuality, male sexuality and married sexuality. I AM SO STINKING READY FOR THIS.
Last semester we learned about different counseling career paths: lay counselor, pastoral counselor, professional counselor, or expertise counselor. I've just been assuming I would do the traditional professional counseling, but since that class I've been waffling toward expertise counseling. That means you, well, become an expert in a certain field, and teach it to others. Oh ho, that sounds like what I do for fun!
Maybe married couples won't want a single woman teaching them about sexuality, but probably some won't mind. Regardless, I'm also super excited about this single sexuality topic, and how fun it would be to reach out to a population that is largely ignored where sexuality is concerned (except to say STOP IT, IT'S ALL EVIL FOR YOU RIGHT NOW).
Literally the only thing that makes me uncomfortable with this idea is that I will have to introduce myself as "Tricia, Sex Expert." HAHAHA just kidding that sounds awesome.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Learning to Apologize
I like to post Facebook statuses that are mildly insulting of marriage or children and see how long it takes before someone says, "Oh, but really it's SO GREAT." My favorite was when I mentioned how hard motherhood would be for me since I am used to getting paid for watching kids, and someone responded, "But when they're your own you just won't care!"
I'm sorry, but. Isn't it the new American dream to get paid for something you love? Loving kids has nothing to do with it. I love watching TV, but I would definitely enjoy getting paid for every episode I watch.
It feels conspiratorial. Everyone knows marriage is not 100% awesome. Everyone knows raising kids is not 100% awesome. So when people say that it IS great all the time, all I can do is give them the side-eye and assume they are hiding something. Yes, I'm a cynic. But I'm also studying counseling, and I know how many ways relationships can go wrong.
It's also annoying, because people say things like, "Marriage teaches you sanctification more than anything else!" or "Being a parent has really helped me understand God's heart for us!" You might not mean it this way, but all I hear is, "Because you're single, you simply won't be as godly or love as unconditionally as us married parents!"
Today I think I glimpsed a bit into what these people mean. I took the kiddos to piano, and while Ketan was in lessons, Anju was doing theory near me. She asked me to help, and I told her to look back in her book for examples. She started crying, and cold-hearted bastard that I am, I intoned, "I understand that you're upset, but I gave you my advice. If you don't want to take it, you don't have to. But I'm not going to help you just because you're crying." She kept crying. Ketan came out to check on her. The teacher came out to check on her. I sat there, immovable. When the teacher said she could give it a rest until next week, I moved to another part of the lounge.
And immediately felt guilty. I should apologize, I thought. I'll do it when Ketan goes to Boy Scouts. I should do it now. She might not remember why as clearly if I wait. So I sucked up my pride, and knelt in front of the chair she was in.
"Anju, I'm sorry for not comforting you when you were upset earlier. I'm in kind of a bad mood because Ketan didn't feel well earlier, and I'm stressed because I have a midterm tomorrow. I took out my bad mood on you, and I shouldn't have. I care about you, and I'm sad that you were upset. Okay?"
She nodded sagely. "Can I hug you?" I asked. She nodded again. I hugged her, and she whispered, "That hurts my shoulders." So I rocked back on my heels, grasped her shoulders in a arms-length dance-hug, and said, "How about this?" and stared wistfully into her eyes. She giggled a little, and smiled, so I went back to my seat.
What I learned is this. You have to learn to apologize with kids because YOU ARE THE ONE SCREWING THEM UP. When you ignore adults, sure, you might be solidifying their distrust of relationships, but with kids, you are the one forming them to be distrustful. That's a lot of pressure. Also, kids are freaking annoying when they are in bad moods. They have not yet learned how to suck it up and put on a fake smile. So you have to apologize quickly to defuse their tantrum bomb.
I still don't think that parents have some magical insight into the mind of God. What I think is that we all need to be investing ourselves in people of all ages, sexes, races, and relationships. We can learn how to forgive, or be patient, or love unconditionally no matter our marital status. It just takes getting outside of ourselves and being in relationship with others.
In this case, it involved a child. But it doesn't always have to.
I'm sorry, but. Isn't it the new American dream to get paid for something you love? Loving kids has nothing to do with it. I love watching TV, but I would definitely enjoy getting paid for every episode I watch.
It feels conspiratorial. Everyone knows marriage is not 100% awesome. Everyone knows raising kids is not 100% awesome. So when people say that it IS great all the time, all I can do is give them the side-eye and assume they are hiding something. Yes, I'm a cynic. But I'm also studying counseling, and I know how many ways relationships can go wrong.
It's also annoying, because people say things like, "Marriage teaches you sanctification more than anything else!" or "Being a parent has really helped me understand God's heart for us!" You might not mean it this way, but all I hear is, "Because you're single, you simply won't be as godly or love as unconditionally as us married parents!"
Today I think I glimpsed a bit into what these people mean. I took the kiddos to piano, and while Ketan was in lessons, Anju was doing theory near me. She asked me to help, and I told her to look back in her book for examples. She started crying, and cold-hearted bastard that I am, I intoned, "I understand that you're upset, but I gave you my advice. If you don't want to take it, you don't have to. But I'm not going to help you just because you're crying." She kept crying. Ketan came out to check on her. The teacher came out to check on her. I sat there, immovable. When the teacher said she could give it a rest until next week, I moved to another part of the lounge.
And immediately felt guilty. I should apologize, I thought. I'll do it when Ketan goes to Boy Scouts. I should do it now. She might not remember why as clearly if I wait. So I sucked up my pride, and knelt in front of the chair she was in.
"Anju, I'm sorry for not comforting you when you were upset earlier. I'm in kind of a bad mood because Ketan didn't feel well earlier, and I'm stressed because I have a midterm tomorrow. I took out my bad mood on you, and I shouldn't have. I care about you, and I'm sad that you were upset. Okay?"
She nodded sagely. "Can I hug you?" I asked. She nodded again. I hugged her, and she whispered, "That hurts my shoulders." So I rocked back on my heels, grasped her shoulders in a arms-length dance-hug, and said, "How about this?" and stared wistfully into her eyes. She giggled a little, and smiled, so I went back to my seat.
What I learned is this. You have to learn to apologize with kids because YOU ARE THE ONE SCREWING THEM UP. When you ignore adults, sure, you might be solidifying their distrust of relationships, but with kids, you are the one forming them to be distrustful. That's a lot of pressure. Also, kids are freaking annoying when they are in bad moods. They have not yet learned how to suck it up and put on a fake smile. So you have to apologize quickly to defuse their tantrum bomb.
I still don't think that parents have some magical insight into the mind of God. What I think is that we all need to be investing ourselves in people of all ages, sexes, races, and relationships. We can learn how to forgive, or be patient, or love unconditionally no matter our marital status. It just takes getting outside of ourselves and being in relationship with others.
In this case, it involved a child. But it doesn't always have to.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
The Fable of the Pursuer
I was "pursued" recently, and it was utterly unromantic. Mostly because I didn't like the guy who was pursuing me. I did not understand how he didn't see the hints I was laying down. Finally I told him I was interested in someone else, and he said, "I'm going to keep pursuing you unless you tell me to stop, because I respect you." I think he thought it sounded romantic. It felt creepy. I immediately said, "This is me asking you to stop." And it was super weird.
I complained about it to Liz, and she said something very smart (like she does). She said that Christian guys have this "pursuer myth" rammed down their throats from an early age, and they just assume it always works. You know, the one about how a guy was so sure God had told him to date a girl, but she wasn't into it, so he kept pursuing her until she gave in. I used to think that was romantic (WHO WAS I, UGH, I'm so different now). And I guess, in very specific instances, it might be. Like, if the guy was someone you actually liked, but you wanted to see if he thought you were worth pursuing? But that's so stupid. How much better to be like, yeah I like you, thanks for liking me too. Dating games are so stupid. Let's all agree to stop them immediately.
So anyway. That's one thing, if it's a guy you like. But if it's a guy you don't like? No. Just no. Maybe God specifically tells a few guys to do something like that, but by and large it isn't God talking. It's hormones. And I'm sorry that guys are told to pursue, and girls are taught to be pursued. It doesn't have to be like that.
Added to this, a friend of Liz's came over and told us how a guy in her small group at church was going back to his wife, because he wanted to make their relationship work. "Aw!" we all said.
"Yeah, his wife put out a restraining order against him, but he really feels like he ought to try again."
Jessica and I gave her "are you serious right now?" looks, unsure how polite it is to tell off someone you've just met.
"Um, restraining order?" I said. "Shouldn't he, like, stay away from her?"
"But they're in a covenant relationship. She left the faith and left him, and when he kept pursuing her, she took out a restraining order. But, I mean, they're married."
"Nope. Nope. That doesn't matter," said Jessica, who works in a women's shelter.
And really, what is this!? How have we taught men to disrespect women's wishes and comfort because God "told" them to? How about instead, men pray that God moves the woman's heart to feel the same way, yeah? God can do that, and it's not creepy, and it's not illegal.
Oh my gosh. I have so many feelings about things.
I complained about it to Liz, and she said something very smart (like she does). She said that Christian guys have this "pursuer myth" rammed down their throats from an early age, and they just assume it always works. You know, the one about how a guy was so sure God had told him to date a girl, but she wasn't into it, so he kept pursuing her until she gave in. I used to think that was romantic (WHO WAS I, UGH, I'm so different now). And I guess, in very specific instances, it might be. Like, if the guy was someone you actually liked, but you wanted to see if he thought you were worth pursuing? But that's so stupid. How much better to be like, yeah I like you, thanks for liking me too. Dating games are so stupid. Let's all agree to stop them immediately.
So anyway. That's one thing, if it's a guy you like. But if it's a guy you don't like? No. Just no. Maybe God specifically tells a few guys to do something like that, but by and large it isn't God talking. It's hormones. And I'm sorry that guys are told to pursue, and girls are taught to be pursued. It doesn't have to be like that.
Added to this, a friend of Liz's came over and told us how a guy in her small group at church was going back to his wife, because he wanted to make their relationship work. "Aw!" we all said.
"Yeah, his wife put out a restraining order against him, but he really feels like he ought to try again."
Jessica and I gave her "are you serious right now?" looks, unsure how polite it is to tell off someone you've just met.
"Um, restraining order?" I said. "Shouldn't he, like, stay away from her?"
"But they're in a covenant relationship. She left the faith and left him, and when he kept pursuing her, she took out a restraining order. But, I mean, they're married."
"Nope. Nope. That doesn't matter," said Jessica, who works in a women's shelter.
And really, what is this!? How have we taught men to disrespect women's wishes and comfort because God "told" them to? How about instead, men pray that God moves the woman's heart to feel the same way, yeah? God can do that, and it's not creepy, and it's not illegal.
Oh my gosh. I have so many feelings about things.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Hunter or Hunted
I told a friend about my dating exploits over Christmas, and she asked, "Aren't you worried about being the hunter?"
And. Well, I'm going to use "pursuer" instead of "hunter" because the latter makes me think of aggression and killing. That is not how I want a relationship to go, no matter who initiates things. So. Pursuer. Do I hate being the pursuer?
No.
For one thing, I'm convinced there is no "biblical" way to date. People didn't even date in the Bible. I think there are overarching themes of gentleness and kindness and respect that ought to be applied to dating relationships just as in all relationships. I'm also not convinced of any specific "biblical womanhood" or "biblical manhood."
So what to do if the rules are laid out plainly in Scripture? Find truth in experience and prayer, and trust in God's grace to cover any mistakes.
With all that in mind, I allowed myself to wonder, "Would I rather be pursued or to pursue?" And honestly, neither sounds great. I don't want to pursue someone, and constantly be asking them out or telling them I like them, and only ever receive similar affection secondarily. But I also do not want to be eternally pursued. If someone is always asking me out and I never initiate something, it's because I do not feel strongly about that person!
In summary, I want a relationship in which I am both the pursuer and the pursued. I think those roles should be interchangeable, and that context determines someone's actions more than gender. I want someone who will both initiate and respond.
So no, I am not worried about being the hunter. If that were always the case, yes. But no one-time event is determinative.
And. Well, I'm going to use "pursuer" instead of "hunter" because the latter makes me think of aggression and killing. That is not how I want a relationship to go, no matter who initiates things. So. Pursuer. Do I hate being the pursuer?
No.
For one thing, I'm convinced there is no "biblical" way to date. People didn't even date in the Bible. I think there are overarching themes of gentleness and kindness and respect that ought to be applied to dating relationships just as in all relationships. I'm also not convinced of any specific "biblical womanhood" or "biblical manhood."
So what to do if the rules are laid out plainly in Scripture? Find truth in experience and prayer, and trust in God's grace to cover any mistakes.
With all that in mind, I allowed myself to wonder, "Would I rather be pursued or to pursue?" And honestly, neither sounds great. I don't want to pursue someone, and constantly be asking them out or telling them I like them, and only ever receive similar affection secondarily. But I also do not want to be eternally pursued. If someone is always asking me out and I never initiate something, it's because I do not feel strongly about that person!
In summary, I want a relationship in which I am both the pursuer and the pursued. I think those roles should be interchangeable, and that context determines someone's actions more than gender. I want someone who will both initiate and respond.
So no, I am not worried about being the hunter. If that were always the case, yes. But no one-time event is determinative.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Dating
Years ago when I lived with the Hughes family, Jennie said she admired how I'd handled dating and boys and that she hoped I would influence Hannah. I should have laughed in her face, because I'm the most neurotically unhealthy single person I know. I won't argue that I haven't learned things or avoided potentially hurtful relationships. But reaching the age 24 without ever going on a date is not like, some higher way of singleness. It is a way. But I don't think it is better or even preferred.
I'd been thinking about this a lot lately. I have a roommate who is very open to dating and meeting new guys and being honest. The other three of us stare at her in wide-eyed awe and confusion. Because of her and a few other things, the last month or so has fostered a building pressure inside me, part of me desperate to stop being so single, and the rest of me confused as to how to change anything. In the end, before I left Texas for Peoria, I decided to melodramatically confess my affection for a guy I've liked for a while.
However, when I got to Peoria, I discovered another guy I've been fond of was home as well. I thought, "Why not?" so I asked him out via text. This is obviously the swankiest way to express interest in another human being. He said yes and planned a double date. It was fun and also anti-climactic. When I rehashed everything with Liz later, she said, "I think that's what dating mostly is." It's fine. I'm grateful. I got to date someone I like, but I didn't have to deal with all the messy feelings of being overly invested or wondering what would happen next.
All those feelings were for the original guy, the one I'd planned on confronting with melodrama and planned speeches. We hung out, like friends, like usual. While giving relationship advice, Roy asked, "Do you ever feel romantic energy from him?" and I don't. Being with him is fun and lovely, and I don't think he feels what I feel. But then I thought, "Who cares?" I'm tired of melodrama. I'm tired of living in a junior high mentality that is constantly reading the situation, wondering what the other person is thinking and agonizing over every move or touch.
So on Sunday, I cornered him. I said
Me: If I asked you to be my date to a wedding in June, what would you say?
Him: Maybe. I don't know what I'm doing in June.
Me: Well, consider yourself pre-asked.
And that was it. A tiny step, a little honesty. It wasn't fireworks or angry tears, and THANK GOODNESS. That's the only way I know how to frame romance, and it is exhausting and terrifying. I'm learning to think of boys as people, and my feelings as legitimate and worth being expressed. If I tell someone I like them, and they say, thanks but no thanks, so what? It's no different than not saying something and therefore not dating them. But at least I feel better about myself.
It was a big week, I guess I'm saying. I feel like I've taken a measurable step toward adulthood. Not because I dated someone, or spoke up a little to someone I like, but because I was honest about my feelings.
Yay me.
I'd been thinking about this a lot lately. I have a roommate who is very open to dating and meeting new guys and being honest. The other three of us stare at her in wide-eyed awe and confusion. Because of her and a few other things, the last month or so has fostered a building pressure inside me, part of me desperate to stop being so single, and the rest of me confused as to how to change anything. In the end, before I left Texas for Peoria, I decided to melodramatically confess my affection for a guy I've liked for a while.
However, when I got to Peoria, I discovered another guy I've been fond of was home as well. I thought, "Why not?" so I asked him out via text. This is obviously the swankiest way to express interest in another human being. He said yes and planned a double date. It was fun and also anti-climactic. When I rehashed everything with Liz later, she said, "I think that's what dating mostly is." It's fine. I'm grateful. I got to date someone I like, but I didn't have to deal with all the messy feelings of being overly invested or wondering what would happen next.
All those feelings were for the original guy, the one I'd planned on confronting with melodrama and planned speeches. We hung out, like friends, like usual. While giving relationship advice, Roy asked, "Do you ever feel romantic energy from him?" and I don't. Being with him is fun and lovely, and I don't think he feels what I feel. But then I thought, "Who cares?" I'm tired of melodrama. I'm tired of living in a junior high mentality that is constantly reading the situation, wondering what the other person is thinking and agonizing over every move or touch.
So on Sunday, I cornered him. I said
Me: If I asked you to be my date to a wedding in June, what would you say?
Him: Maybe. I don't know what I'm doing in June.
Me: Well, consider yourself pre-asked.
And that was it. A tiny step, a little honesty. It wasn't fireworks or angry tears, and THANK GOODNESS. That's the only way I know how to frame romance, and it is exhausting and terrifying. I'm learning to think of boys as people, and my feelings as legitimate and worth being expressed. If I tell someone I like them, and they say, thanks but no thanks, so what? It's no different than not saying something and therefore not dating them. But at least I feel better about myself.
It was a big week, I guess I'm saying. I feel like I've taken a measurable step toward adulthood. Not because I dated someone, or spoke up a little to someone I like, but because I was honest about my feelings.
Yay me.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Seminary Marriages
Dr. Kreider: "Some of you are married, some are unmarried. If you are unmarried, may I suggest that there are better places to find a spouse than here [in seminary]? Especially if you are female. If you're male and offended by that statement, maybe you're the exception. But if you were offended, probably that means you're not."
I thought that was the best thing I'd ever heard. So I wrote it down and told Liz about it later. She get this distressed look on her face and said, "Why?"
"....Because. What? I don't understand your face."
"Why shouldn't you look for a spouse in seminary?"
"Oh. Um. Well, we're very prideful? Seminary students."
"That's sad."
Liz checked out of the conversation then, which made me distressed, because she wasn't fully appreciating the brilliance of Dr. Kreider's comment. And while it's totally true that seminary students have a higher-than-normal tendency to struggle with pride (I think it's almost built into the idea of graduate learning and the idea that somehow you can study to become qualified to serve God and lead others), there's another facet I think Dr. K was drawing on. Maybe. If not, it's something I have observed.
Men in seminary (women too, but men are more vocal about this) are desperate to get married. Not all of them, but a lot of single guys in seminary are on the prowl. Partly this is because it's hard to get jobs as a pastor if you are unmarried. Partly because seminary students are often committed to celibacy before marriage, and 20-30 years of celibacy often leads to "burning with passion" as the apostle Paul so delicately put it. Anyway, men are looking for a wife.
And that's just it. They're looking for a "wife." Generic, copywrited wife. They aren't looking for a specific person, but an ideal. Probably everyone does this to a certain extent while dating/pining. But it's not healthy. And women would be wise to run away from men who aren't aware of that tendency.
So anyway. It's nice to hear a professor say not to get married, when so many others say things like, "Marriage is so great! I couldn't have gotten through seminary without my wife supporting me, proof reading my papers, making me dinner! It was wonderful!" And I just side-eye them and think, if I'd married them, my life in seminary would be a lot more difficult. I need me a wife.
Or I'll just remain single. That is my solid, supported plan until someone absolutely blows me away with awesomeness.
Which is fine, because that guy with the hot ankles moved seats, and now I can't see the area between his pants and his shoes.
I thought that was the best thing I'd ever heard. So I wrote it down and told Liz about it later. She get this distressed look on her face and said, "Why?"
"....Because. What? I don't understand your face."
"Why shouldn't you look for a spouse in seminary?"
"Oh. Um. Well, we're very prideful? Seminary students."
"That's sad."
Liz checked out of the conversation then, which made me distressed, because she wasn't fully appreciating the brilliance of Dr. Kreider's comment. And while it's totally true that seminary students have a higher-than-normal tendency to struggle with pride (I think it's almost built into the idea of graduate learning and the idea that somehow you can study to become qualified to serve God and lead others), there's another facet I think Dr. K was drawing on. Maybe. If not, it's something I have observed.
Men in seminary (women too, but men are more vocal about this) are desperate to get married. Not all of them, but a lot of single guys in seminary are on the prowl. Partly this is because it's hard to get jobs as a pastor if you are unmarried. Partly because seminary students are often committed to celibacy before marriage, and 20-30 years of celibacy often leads to "burning with passion" as the apostle Paul so delicately put it. Anyway, men are looking for a wife.
And that's just it. They're looking for a "wife." Generic, copywrited wife. They aren't looking for a specific person, but an ideal. Probably everyone does this to a certain extent while dating/pining. But it's not healthy. And women would be wise to run away from men who aren't aware of that tendency.
So anyway. It's nice to hear a professor say not to get married, when so many others say things like, "Marriage is so great! I couldn't have gotten through seminary without my wife supporting me, proof reading my papers, making me dinner! It was wonderful!" And I just side-eye them and think, if I'd married them, my life in seminary would be a lot more difficult. I need me a wife.
Or I'll just remain single. That is my solid, supported plan until someone absolutely blows me away with awesomeness.
Which is fine, because that guy with the hot ankles moved seats, and now I can't see the area between his pants and his shoes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)