Religion, Dating & Finding Out I Can’t Remain Detached

I’ve dated on nearly every point along the Western religion spectrum from atheist to spiritual-ish to Jesus freak. In theory, if a guy hates Jesus, it should be a deal breaker for me. But I’ve blurred the lines on that rule, probably one time too many. For the most part it hasn’t been a major problem in the early stages. Mostly due to a mutual respect for what the other individual believes. Healthy conversations can be had without turning into conversion attempts or all-out arguments. Much like a friendship on the same plane. Except, unlike friendships, you may have to raise a child with this individual so that can be a problem down the road.

Anyway, that’s beside the point. As I said, in the past these relationships have functioned on respect and understanding. Until recently, I’ve never encountered a situation where someone has actively tried to change my faith. We went through a great debate when things finally came to a head. Well not so much a debate as a berating of my faith. I was denounced as a little fool for believing in a joke of a religion because I was “smarter than that.” After this encounter I’m thinking it might be too dangerous to dip into those waters.

I was floored that someone I cared about could belittle something that is at the very core of who I am. I couldn’t reconcile the idea that someone who thought me to be such a wonderful person could implore me to change the very convictions that made me that person. It was a rather eye-opening conversation. He couldn’t have meant all the things he had said about caring about me or liking me because he basically loathed everything I stood for. So often Christians get pigeonholed as this hateful, judgmental bag of tricks. But even in my stalwart faith I have never launched a vicious attack of this nature on a non-believer.

I know that our life paths all take very different turns and that the curves in my road have made it easier for me to land on the proverbial straight and narrow than if my life was dealt from his deck of cards. I recognize that our unique trials and moments of peace shape our dogma. This outlook is probably one of the main reasons I get involved with the wrong people. In addition to the fact that I don’t fall into the pit of butterflies and giggles very easily anymore, so when I get that twinge from someone, I revert back to the stupid girl who loves (likes) blindly with no regard for the logic that guides someone out of unhealthy relationships before they can start.

I’ve been able to erect a boundary in certain situations before that feeling germinates, but if it takes root before deal breakers are uncovered, I’m basically screwed for the duration. I was able to extricate myself from this particular situation a month or so after the fact. But it required much more power of will than it should have. And I’m still left reeling more than I expected.

He actively hid his feelings about my faith in an effort to keep our relationship going. I’m not sure what he hoped to accomplish long-term with this. He could only keep his disdain from bubbling up for so long, and then what was going to happen? He shared that he was ready to settle down and could see doing that with me. So how could he marry someone who he couldn’t possibly respect on the basis of her faith? Whatever, that part of it was somewhat irrelevant to me because of the multitude of other reasons he wouldn’t make a good life partner for me. I was trying to be casual and aloof about the whole situation because since getting a taste of it, I was craving that connection. But that was never going to work.

The end game for me is always going to be love, marriage, baby carriage. I need to recognize that I can’t be easy and breezy when I feel a connection with someone. I can’t even claim I was trying to change this one’s mind to make him into the husband I want. I know he is where he is going to be and I didn’t suffer from any delusions that would suggest otherwise. In high school I might have thought, “all he needs is to be loved in the right way.” But not with this one. I figured I could just dabble in him until I got him out of my system. Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to get him out of my system without removing him from my life. Spending time with him was only weaving him more intricately into my life and my nature.

Ultimately I learned something about myself I should have always known. No matter how unsuitable an individual may be, even if the thought of him being a long-term solution to that love problem is a damn impossibility, I can’t remain detached. I was designed to feel and feel deeply. Because I’m emo like that. By the time the hook is set, it’s too late for me to not become immersed in the elements that make him who he is. 

The Temp

Sometimes it feels damn good to have that mushy, connected-deeply-to-another-soul crap in our lives doesn’t it? So much so that you’ll go to strange (though maybe not great) lengths to get it from places and people you maybe shouldn’t. Most likely from some guy (or girl) who is there to fill in for just long enough to make you feel loveable and capable of real human emotions on occasion. Because sometimes you forget how to feel feelings when you aren’t constantly bickering with the one you love. And that’s no good, right? So what better way to deal with it than some truly unhealthy and delusional fauxmance? (See what I did there? That’s a portmanteaux kids. Pretend like nobody’s ever used that blend before.)

The transitory figure known as the counterfeit boyfriend (or girlfriend—for the purposes of simplicity just assume all this pertains to the opposite gender as well) can take the form of that one ex you’re inexplicably drawn to despite all the really good reasons that he became an ex, some poor sap in the friend zone, or a guy who’s relegated you to the friend zone—or worse the friends with benefits zone. (Side note: my grandma used that term the other day and it was decidedly unsettling.) It’s so easy to fall into a destructive pattern because you enjoy being with your fake boyfriend.

For one reason or another there is some level of connection there. Whether it’s the previous moments you actually shared together as a couple or the relationship you wish you could have with this great new non-committal dude, you feel naturally comfortable, safe and about a million other sickening things that boyfriends make you feel. It’s so instinctive to be all cuddled up next to him, attending events with him and doing superfun coupley things except for antique shopping. Because you can’t make him do that. Because at the end of the day, you’re not actually a couple.

It’s at this point you have to ask yourself, is it really worth all of this if I can’t make him take dance classes or get him to stop wearing those Crocs? The answer will always be “no, it is not worth it.” Because anyway you look, at it these fauxmances are only going to end tragically for all involved. Most likely on some night when you’re out having one too many vodka cranberries. Nice and public like. You’re going to get more attached than you thought you would because that’s what happens when you go through the motions of a relationship with a guy you like but can’t actually have. Or worse, your sad little friend zone guy is going to become even more attached to you, and you’ll crush his miserable heart, making you even more cold and unfeeling than you were before you got in this mess.

Sure, many great relationships begin as friendships: Ross and Rachel, Will and Kate, Gumby and Pokey, but that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s those situations where it has been made abundantly clear by one person or another that an actual relationship is not going to happen. Either because you don’t want one, because he was a terrible boyfriend or because he just wants you to be the transitional interlude in his romantic pursuits. You’re smart enough to tell the difference between someone who might want a relationship with you and someone who just thinks you’re ok to go apple picking with when there’s nothing good on TV. Mostly because he’ll tell you. If not flat out “I don’t want a relationship with you” then through subtle cues like not fully committing to plans, not being comfortable with the boyfriend/girlfriend label after an acceptable amount of time, making everything else a bigger priority or dating multitudes of other women. So if your subsisuitor (ok that one is a stretch) is giving you the runaround, maybe get out before you get hurt. Because you deserve better and it’s better to be alone than with someone who doesn’t care about you and, I dunno, all those other platitudes that are true but annoying because they typically mean you can’t get what you want right now. But for real, you deserve a real-live boyfriend who wants you to be his real-live girlfriend. It’s better that way. I promise.

“For this was Saint Valentine's Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate.”

For the past two weeks I’ve come across a barrage of survival guides designed to help singletons make it through the ever-so-challenging holiday that is Valentine’s Day. This is the day that is supposed to make you feel miserable because you lack that special pooh bear to send loverly flowers to your work (because it doesn’t count if others don’t see it, sort of an if a bear poops in the woods kind of thing) and recreate the perfect Zales moment just for you. Alas, whatever shall I do to make it through with no one to love?

While I have fallen victim to holiday-induced pity parties, Valentine’s has never sparked any sort of sadness. Last year I explained that I’ve never taken the day as an assault on the single populous. I always had my own traditions that were completely disassociated with the romantic, mushy sentiments of the day. This year, the weekend was occupied with a visiting friend from high school. Unfortunately, this made it impossible for me to host the annual all-girls Valentine’s, but it still meant spending time with people who’ve unfailingly been a part of my life for more than ten years.

I’m not going to go into a detailed discussion of the origins of the holiday and how the martyred saint(s) actually had nothing to do with love. Nor am I going to offer up cheesy advice about how to endure this day that is so obviously going to destroy your soul as a single person if you aren’t careful. I can only suggest that you spend the day as it suits you.

Honestly, even though I think it’s absurd that Glamour, Comso, and the world at large all think being single requires a decisive game plan on Valentine’s Day, I get that it might be disheartening for some. So what? Let it be. If you want to watch a few romantic comedies and fully sulk in your singleness for one day, go ahead. (Just please for the love of all that is good in the world, do not rent the god-awful “Love Actually” knock-off that is “Valentine’s Day.” Seriously, how can one movie suck so hard?)

I’m a firm believer that accepting those not-so-pleasant moments in life and letting them wash over you when need be is cathartic and healthy. Sometimes all you need is a good cry dammit. (Look at me going all Joyce Brothers; please take my counsel with a boulder of salt, I’m far from a licensed professional.)

On the flip side, don’t let the stigma associated with the day force you out of sorts. Just because a bevy of women’s magazines tell you that you are going to be depressed on this day, doesn’t mean you have to be. You (hopefully) don’t listen to them every time they come up with some fantastic (read: terrible) “Top Ten Ways to Leave Your Man Wanting More,” so don’t pretend they could possibly know more about your emotional well being and innermost feelings than you do. 

Andy Williams is a Damned Liar

Since before I can remember, I’ve looked forward to Christmas with an over-excited anticipation rivaled only by this kid. I still love decorating my tree, baking Christmas cookies and selecting the perfect gifts for my friends and family. But after spending the Thanksgiving with my happily paired off family, a gloom has fallen over the once festive time.

(I’m sorry again for the sappy, pathetic post. Apparently something was knocked lose a few weeks ago. And by something, I mean the logical, emotionally mature portion of my brain.)

During most of the year I appreciate my single status—though lately the truth seems to be draining from that statement—but at Christmas I am surrounded by saccharine couple love that seems to be further sweetened by the holiday lights and spiked eggnog. ‘Tis the season for smitten couples, holiday proposals (I witnessed three during one trip to Rockefeller Center last New Year’s), and Mr. & Mrs.’s first Christmas. My immediate family has grown by two lovely sister-in-laws in the past couple years. And though they are a blessing to my two love struck brothers, it can be a bit strange being the only sibling who hasn’t held her own in the family expansion.

In addition to the seemingly increased visibility of the happily-ever-afters, there are so many activities the holidays bring that appeal to my dormant romantic side. Activities that inevitably trigger my desire to join the ranks of the blissfully attached. Work Christmas parties can be a challenge when you are the only individual lacking a plus one. (Though this year, I think I may actually have company at the singles table—yet another perk of the new gig.) Viewings of holiday movies tend to be more fun when they involve nauseating cuddling. And New Year’s without someone to smoochie poo when the ball drops is a bit of a let down.

I have no intention of picking up some random yet willing sucker to couple up with for the holidays so I’m left with one of two options. Wallow and embrace the delicious seasonal drinks that will mask self-pitying alcoholism as festive imbibing or continue to enjoy the numerous perks of a singleton including the freedom to spend the holidays with spectacular friends and family.

When I started this post I was so focused on the crappy aspects of a holiday spent alone and the truth is, there is a great deal of seasonal fun to be had with my detached friends. Ice skating at the Depot can be a mighty fine time even without a cuddly bear to break your fall. And building ginger bread houses with the girls can be a lot more fun than sharing the activity with a pouty scrooge who begrudgingly adheres red hots to a slanted ginger roof in attempt to placate you and your hyperactive holiday spirit. Also the lack of a guy to spend an inordinate amount on frees up funds so I can put more under the tree for friends who mean more to me than some of the passing ships on whom I’ve spent stupid cash and hours of time finding the perfect Star Wars/Sports/Insert other lame guy thing here-themed gift.

So maybe I was wrong, maybe Andy Williams isn’t a damned liar. Perhaps I just need to pull myself out of my absurd, self-induced malaise and enjoy the season for what it is.

Relapse

Fair warning, this post is going to be unusually emo and embarrassingly honest. I may even want to beat myself up by the time it’s over, but here we go. Whenever I spend some time with a certain former Mr. Wonderful of mine, I am filled with sappy feelings of self-pity and nostalgia. It’s not nostalgia for the relationship I had with him necessarily, more for a relationship in general.

I always enjoy getting together with him. Even after not seeing each other for some time, we don’t experience that awkward re-acquaintance period. I always feel completely natural around him and it’s easy to slip back into the sickening cuddly relationship behavior when he becomes affectionate ( which is approximately 15 seconds from the moment he greets me). I relish that feeling of being loved and cared for again, because I am a weak moron. Rationally I know I’m not the most important thing in his life, heck I’m not even the most important thing in his weekend, but for those few hours that we are together I am reminded of what it’s like to be that special someone.

It seems harmless enough, but every once in awhile, when these meetings are over, a sense of melancholy sets in. Most recently it hit me before we even parted ways. So naturally, like the collected, emotionally mature adult that I am, I broke down and cried in his confused presence. Like the respectful individual he is he made the obligatory inquiry into what could possibly have reduced me to a weeping child. Perhaps he was (intelligently) feeling me out to see if I was going to have another drastic mood swing that would put him in harm’s way due to my obvious insanity.  I didn’t offer him any explanation. I couldn’t. I wasn’t entirely sure what inspired the blubbering at the time, but I pinpointed it shortly after I left. The poor guy never did get an answer. He just sent me on my merry way. Probably assuming I was deranged and PMSing—which I guess are basically the same thing.

I missed being in a relationship. I didn’t before seeing Mr. Wonderful, but now I did. Or maybe I did and I didn’t realize it? No, I’m quite sure I didn’t miss it prior to the sickening cuddle bug moments with the ex. We didn’t do anything terribly romantic, just coffee and watching a movie in his disgusting man abode. But that’s the lame, boring crap I miss. Just being able to do absolutely nothing with someone and yet thoroughly enjoy myself. I miss spending time with someone and not having to be in any way strategic. Dating is exhausting in that way. No matter how well you click with an individual and how natural you attempt to be, you inevitably choose your words and actions more carefully in those first few months. Even though I love the inherent sense of freedom that comes with being single, I miss that unique freedom of being uninhibited around someone who embraces my quirks and tendency to be an utter nerd of Urkel proportions.

We had even had a brief altercation about his inconsiderate behavior during our visit. A moment that should have reminded me of all the crappy points of being attached to someone, but apparently my brain had turned to mush and all logic was replaced with an unmitigated need to be adored by someone. And he’s good at making me feel adored even if I know he’s mostly full of it. Curse his relentless boyish charm and seemingly sincere, endless string of compliments.

As with all my weak moments, regardless of what inspires them, it will pass with time or when I witness a heinous fight between a couple in a very public place. Still, when it happens it sucks, hard. Especially when it inspires an unwarranted and baffling tearful goodbye.

The Anti-Valentine's Day

I couldn’t let Valentine’s pass without writing a blog, it’s pretty much expected. However, this one isn’t going to be the quintessential, bitter Valentine’s Day-is-complete-crap blog. I actually enjoy the holiday. It has never been associated with that much romance for me though. With the exception of a couple years, boyfriend or no, I celebrated the day with friends. Don’t get me wrong I’ve had some boyfriends who have made the day special for me in a lot of ways, but my most memorable ones had nothing to do with the romantic love that has come to be expected of the day.

In elementary it meant stuffing Valentines into boxes decorated with cut-out hearts, paper doilies and pink and red glitter. When junior high rolled around, I anticipated getting dressed up and going to awkward dances and socializing with my friends on the bleachers of the gym turned dance hall. While I was in high school I spent the day watching sappy chick flicks and eating junk food at Lindsey Schmidt’s house.

In most recent years, I’ve turned the day into a celebration of my girlfriends. We pamper ourselves, have a nice dinner together and enjoy a few drinks and great conversation at various bars around town. I’ve really come to look forward to getting dressed up and spending the day with vibrant women who impact my life. I don’t even feel that we do it to combat bitterness or loneliness; it’s just a good reason for us to add a little occasion to spending time with each other.

I’ve never really felt that my singleness is thrown in my face on this day. In fact, I don’t think it is anything less than a blessing at this point in my life. I am facing some major life changes and some great opportunities that I wouldn’t be able to take advantage of if I were tied down. I also wouldn’t have the confidence to push myself to take on these new challenges if it weren’t for some of the amazing women I call my friends. For that reason, it seems completely natural to celebrate with them this year. So, to all the women (and some men too ;-)) in my life who encourage and stand by me, Happy Valentine’s Day!

Moments of Weakness

I’m usually very happy with my single life. I have a job that allows me to do what I love. I have amazing friends, and I couldn’t ask for a better family. However, there are moments when I miss having a relationship. When things go wrong at work or I have a disagreement with a friend, I wish I had someone to cheer me up or just hold me until things got better. Sometimes life gets stressful and I long for a partner to share my burdens.

I actually feel ashamed of myself when I get in these moods. I know I should be grateful for everything I have, because I am truly blessed. I also don’t want to be the girl who needs a man by her side in order to be happy. During times like these, it helps me to realize I am not the only person in this position. I think, single or not, we all feel alone sometimes. When I’m in these funks, it is often my instinct to dwell and seclude myself from the world. This only serves to make the situation worse.

The best way to cope is to force myself to go out with friends or throw my energy into reaching my goals. This serves to refocus my attention on the positive things in my life rather than what I am lacking romantically. I realize that no matter what I do to ward against loneliness, it will hit me from time to time. I think it is in our nature to want a significant other to be there for us in our weakest moments. It’s how we handle these moments that determines whether the loneliness is going to define us or fuel us to become stronger people.