Been There, Felt That

As a single woman, sometimes it can feel like you just can't wait another day to meet someone -- anyone -- who might at least spark your interest. Sometimes it can feel like you have waited longer than anyone else in the world to meet someone, and feel like you have somehow been forgotten by God among the millions of needs and hurting people in the world. Or that you are the only one feeling the pain of unrequited feelings. Sometimes you look around at the increasing number of your married friends -- some who have been married for years now -- and it seems they have always been content and comfortable in their relationship. 

But the truth is, you are not the only one. In fact, probably every person you know has been in your shoes or is in your shoes now. If I sit and think even for a moment about some of those friends, I quickly recall stories of angst and drama -- some that lasted for years and years -- that were part of the road to getting where they are now. I recall the same frustration and waiting and wondering, I recall healing processes that sometimes involved painful rejection and disappointment over again. And I recall reality -- that even just a week or two ago, this friend told me about a frustrating dynamic in her marriage, and that friend shared about her husband's struggle with forgiveness. 

Though it doesn't make me feel better to remember some of the painful roads my own friends have taken, it does help snap me out of my own false bubble of isolation.  It spurs me on to trust God with another day of my life as an adult, choosing to hold on not knowing what the future holds. And it reminds me that I'm normal.

Chasing Cinderella

Over the years, I have confronted my own obsession with the Prince Charming, perfect guy fantasy. Over this year in particular, I have given up the ghost as dwelled upon in previous posts. I'm living in both the harshness and freedom of embracing reality head-on. There's no feeling quite like knowing you have overcome what used to be such a paralyzing issue, even if it means dealing with the terrifying issues of real life.

The problem is, you can't bring others with you on a personal journey through healing. Everyone must brave their own alone.  And if the single men around you are still living with ghosts in their closet -- or one ghost -- what is a single woman to do?  I have tried competing with a fantasy before, and I lose every time.  

As much as I love Silent Bob, it turns out his Hollywood story about chasing Amy is all too common, and has become a real liability.  And real girls like myself go back to the drawing board.  Hopefully we'll find a real guy someday, who has real issues like ours.

What Does Settling Sound Like?

My friend sent me this article published on The Atlantic.com:
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200803/single-marry

The topic of "settling" starts to become a regular visitor to the thoughts of anyone single and over 30. You just went through a decade of watching friends get married to sweethearts, and suddenly you are almost out of single friends of the opposite sex. For better or for worse, you are left in a lot of those who did not settle.

But settling, like any facet of relationships, is not a black and white issue. The word connotes something negative in all of our minds -- who wants to settle for something less than what they want? I grew up settling for things because my mom didn't want to pay a certain amount or because she just didn't like what I liked. So as an adult, I've had to face my own inner child, that wants to demand things exactly as she wants them -- she's done settling.

Enter adulthood. The older you get, the more you realize almost nothing in this world is all one thing or all another -- all good or all bad. And hopefully, the fantasies that have been constantly spoon-fed down your throat since you left the womb about Prince Charming, perfect soul mates and matches made in heaven are starting to get stripped from your adult mind and you are exchanging it for reality. In that sense, everything we choose involves some amount of "settling," because nothing in this world is perfect. It's just different -- each with its own set of great and not so great things. The question isn't whether or not you should settle -- it's about knowing what you can settle for.

I appreciate much of what the writer of this article, Lori Gottlieb, is saying inasmuch as she bucks the whole notion of romantic dreams come true. We just don't hear that enough in our culture. But I do believe that romantic love is out there for everyone -- maybe just not in the way we've been brainwashed into thinking. For me, the most compelling part of the article comes she says: "Women across the country are poring over guidebooks that all boil down to determining, 'Does he like me?,' while completely overlooking the equally essential question, 'Do I like him?'" A woman with a crush is generally a woman in love with a fantasy of the man she has met, so rejection will feel like the one perfect man meant for you just labeled you not good enough. The reality is, he is not that one perfect man; he is just man. And if those particular imperfections either prevent him from appreciating who you are or have rendered him emotionally incapable, then who needs that? That's living in reality.

I could go on about this topic, but what do I really know? I apparently haven't settled either way.


Mr. Not-So-Perfect, "Shopgirl," 2005

My Best Friend's Wedding

Over the weekend, one of my best friends got married. It was overall a joyful day. There is nothing like celebrating with someone close to you - it was the happiest I've ever been for a friend getting married.

But in the strange season life happens to be for me right now, there was a hint of sadness for me as well. As I prepared my toast for my good friend over the week, I found myself in a mix of intense emotion. Joanie was getting married - something I had hoped, prayed and suffered with her over the years. It meant a prayer answered, but it also meant the end of a season in our friendship. I found myself in the midst of adulthood, wondering where the time had gone and when we had all grown up. I looked around me and realized with both joy and sadness that things had changed. Joy for the ways I have grown and seen my suffering turn into character and hope over the years, sadness for the unique lightness of young adulthood that was gone and never to be returned to. And I was escorted into the reception by two groomsmen because of the absence of a bridesmaid, our friend Midi. Things have changed, indeed.

2008 continues to be the year of facing the reality of life, stripped of all fantasy that any situation I can conjure up will magically complete me. No man, job, friendship or status can be perfect or make me someone I'm not - all of the best of these things still bring their own share of suffering. It is a reality of both hope and pain, of waiting and living, of being both scared of the future and completely secure in what it may bring. And I go forward knowing what you never want to admit in your 20s - that you can't insist on your own way in life, and maybe that's for the best.


March 15, 2008 with my two best friends