The Truth is Stranger Than it Used to Be

Today at church, during the ‘turn and greet your neighbor time’ I met someone.

His name, I think, is D. J.–or maybe it was L. J., or B. J.–it should be clear at this point that I’m not good with names. He was sitting alone, and I felt compelled to say ‘Hi’ and shake his hand because he seemed out of place. We didn’t talk for long, but I found out during the brief break that it was his first time at our church, so I wanted to make him feel as welcome as possible and made a mental note to plan to talk with him after the service. But, after the service, at precisely the moment I was thinking of starting a conversation with him, he leaned forward and asked me a question. “This is going to sound strange,” he said, “but do you have a girlfriend?”

I didn’t know what to say.

That’s a pretty forward question, and it’s not what you lead with with unless you’re a little awkward; I was taken back. In part, because I was expecting the conversation to only get more awkward, but mostly because this topic has been much on my mind. You see, my dating experience isn’t that comprehensive, and in the past five years has, with a brief interlude in the past two months, consisted of unmitigated pain. At some point I will write a blog about that experience; this won’t be it. The key point, though, is that the person I wanted to date kept hammering on the same thing over, and over, and over, and over, and over again (I think I counted those right). And, somewhere along the way I started to internalize the perpetual rejection. I came to believe that I was inadequate, that something was wrong with me for liking this person, and that I was really more of an inconvenience than a blessing. I was told, repeatedly, that this person didn’t value me–regardless of whether that was true or not–I was hurt a great deal by it. Hearing it too frequently has kept me from healing. The hammering didn’t drive the I-don’t-want-to-date-you point home, it created a need where none had existed previously. I now feel that one of the most important things I’m looking for is someone who wants me; I need to be desired.

It’s a strange place to be at 30, to be wanting someone who will want me. In some trivial sense we all want someone who wants us; what I mean is that I will need constant reassurance that I’m not about to be dumped, and that my partner is enjoying the relationship. In a strange way, I’ve connected with a long dead grandfather over the issue. One of my aunts once said that she thought her mother had never really appreciated her father; she could be difficult just to be difficult, and hadn’t valued him. I’m sure this broke his heart a little bit. I feel like I can empathize, since it breaks my heart a little bit for him. I will not repeat that mistake.

Dating has been much on my mind because I’ve been wondering if maybe my standards are too high. I’ve been thinking “Maybe you have a warped view of marriage. Maybe you’re to idealistic. Maybe you should just ‘settle’ because it’s better than being alone for the rest of your life.” These are, of course, dangerous ideas. You shouldn’t marry someone you aren’t into; part of being into someone is finding them attractive; both intellectually and physically. You can grow to love someone, you don’t normally try and change what you enjoy/find attractive. Another shaping experience I’ve had occurred when I was sixteen. One of the manager’s where I worked, if I remember correctly, was named Nadine. One morning we went to deliver the daily cash deposit to the bank. And, in the five minute drive she told me something that explained a great deal of herself. She told me she was afraid of growing old alone. She was eighteen at the time, and she was also dating/living with a thirty year old. Until just now, I’ve never though about what she needed to hear: she needed to be called beautiful; she needed to be desired.

“No, not really,” I said blushing and looking around. “Don’t worry about it. God has someone great planned for you,” he said making eye contact. My face went bright red; I became awkward and think I stammered “Thanks.” Then he left. For a moment I just stood stunned. It seemed as though he had read my mind. I turned to leave the isle, and started walking in the opposite direction he had. I thought, “I don’t want to run into this person in the lobby and have an even more awkward conversation there. I’ve no idea what to say to that.” But, as I moved to the back of the church, something changed. I wanted to confront him about it; I wanted to know why he said it, what prompted it, and on what basis he could make such a claim. So I intentionally hurried to the lobby, and began to look for him, but he was gone.

I don’t know that it was a ‘prophetic word.’ And, I get very easily annoyed by the Christian usage of such language. Why phrase something in Christianese when you can say the same thing in normal language–without sounding like you’re a nut-bar?

But, it was something I’ve needed to hear for a long time.
Funny, that coincidence.

drt.

Sun Day

Today, has been the most laziest of days. And, while the primary activity of the day, sailing, did force me to get out of bed at the ridiculous time of 8:30 am, I still feel as though the day has shaped up well.

To begin with, it includes two ice cream sandwiches. And, while the perfect day does include doing some math, I don’t want to get all mathematical on you so I’ll keep it simple; Oreo ice cream sandwiches=Mmm.

Recently, I stumbled upon a conversation which was of the “would you rather?” variety, but it had a bit of a twist. The question in contention revolved around whether you’d rather be a male preying mantis, or a male lion. You see, the male preying mantis gets its head ripped off by the female during mating. (At this point it might be helpful to say that those I stumbled upon suggested that the female eats the brains of the male–but I’m not sure if this is a fact, or hearsay.) On the other hand, a male lion has no guarantee of ever mating. If you are the alpha lion, then life is good. You rule your harem with an iron fist, and mate many, many times. But you might just be an average male lion. Maybe you aren’t the stuff that alpha is made of.

So what do you do? Do you play it safe, knowing that you’ll “score” once as a preying mantis, or do you gamble hoping to “score” big time as the alpha lion? It might be a long, frustrating life as a not quite alpha lion.

So, clearly I’ve given this way too much thought. I mean, it was about a week ago that this came up, and I am writing about it in a blog. But, I have some gems that I think should help you come to your conclusion. Although, I’m going to need you to use your willing suspension of disbelief–and not point out the theological problems that arise with the language I use. We are talking about male animals–so I’ll assume a certain “flexibility” in my choice of words. If you’re still with me, and agree to these terms, then I think that how the choice needs to be made is clear.

Lets say you are leaning towards mantis. Then for a moment, imagine yourself in heaven. You find yourself doing lots of heavenly things. You and the other mantis men spend time doing things like chilling at your cloud and jamming on your harps. You are mildly suspicious about how many dudes heaven seems to contain, but figure maybe dude mantises are more spiritual than their female counterparts. Then one day you’re sitting around and asking one another how you all died. Of course, I’m not sure exactly how this conversation would go, but I imagine at some point the phrase “That b*tch ripped my head off too!” might be said. The conversation degenerates from there.

Now lets say, you’re leaning towards lion. Again, similar circumstances, but no gender imbalance. You where alpha lion, and you find yourself unavoidably saying saying phrases like “Hey, my b*tches! Look’n fine!” Or “Tanya! You, me, Vicki, Candy, and Natasha should all get together and “reminisce” about old times…” The other angel lions are not impressed. And Gabriel, the archangel-lion, keeps shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

Anyways, I’m pretty sure I’ve exhausted all the possible ways that things might go with the above analysis. And, I’m clearly keeping my eye on the eternal perspective, so with this objectively fair analysis, it’s pretty clear that you, like me, should choose male lion. I won’t get into all the personal reasons behind my choice, but I will say this. I already know that one member of the large cat family has a hankering for me. And, cougars can’t be that different from lionesses.

D.R.T.