Catching a whiff...

Two weeks ago, I caught a whiff of God's breath. I don't think I invaded His space--He definitely invaded mine. The long and short of it is this: I have too many balls in the air. I'm trying to keep them all circling somewhere above my head, but two weeks ago I took on an extra ball in the form of a living, breathing thing. I adopted a dog from the shelter. I named him Mr. Darcy just like I've said I always would and he was absolutely adorable. He was an older dog, and I was concerned about some of his behaviors in the shelter, but the workers there assured me that he was fine and came pre-trained. They said he was a low energy dog who never barked. Perfect! I took him home, and their assessment was totally true. He was perfectly housebroken and just wanted to lie on the floor with his paws crossed (so cute!) and watch me. He didn't care about playing, and I was pretty convinced for the first 24 hours that he was incapable of barking. I actually worried that his previous owners had had him debarked.

There was some evidence that all was not totally well with Mr. Darcy, though. He was scary-thin but didn't really want to eat much, and he was absolutely terrified of the crate. I mean terrified. His previous owners said he loved his crate, but they lied. I tried everything. I petted him. I gave him peanut butter. I put bits of chicken in the crate. All to no avail. Finally, I just put him in there. I felt like a terrible person, but what could I do? He didn't sleep at night--he just walked in tiny circles in the crate all night long. This was clearly an anxious dog. When I left the next day, I put him in the crate, left the radio on, and hoped for the best. I came home, 5 hours later, to a nasty note on the door from the neighbors saying he barked nonstop all morning, a crate full of diarrhea, and a totally freaked out dog. I took him for a walk and started crying. I ended up at the vet's office adjacent to my apartment complex and asked for advice. I thought maybe he was sick or something. They checked him out, diagnosed him with severe separation anxiety, and gave me Xanax for him. By this point, I was the one who needed the Xanax. The vet said that rehabilitating him could take quite a while, which was concerning, to say the least. I was an absolute wreck.

I got home and took a shower. The moment I disappeared behind the shower curtain, Darcy flipped out. As long as I was in eyesight, he was fine, but if he couldn't see me he couldn't handle it. I was trying desperately to figure out how I was going to take care of a dog that barked constantly every time I left his sight AND get a PhD. I had to leave for two hours for Bible study, so I gave Darcy some cheese with a side of Xanax and my roommate and I decided to blockade him in the kitchen. We thought maybe it was the crate that was causing him to flip his shit.

We were wrong. He flipped out anyway, which resulted in another complaint from the neighbor and more tears from me. I consulted a behavioral therapist, and called the shelter. Everyone agreed (the shelter even suggested) that I bring him back. The amount of time it would take was simply much longer than my neighbors would tolerate, and I couldn't risk getting in trouble with the apartment complex. I felt like a terrible human being, but keeping him would just not be best for him or me. I hope they found him a home with a shut-in senior citizen. He's a good dog and I think he's had a tough life.

But that (as long as it is) is just the background to my real point. When I went to Bible study, I was a mess. I cried through the first half. Over a dog. I haven't done my exams, my dating life is one frustration after another, and I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. But I lost it over a dog I hadn't even had for 72 hours. My community group drew in around me and that was when I sensed God drawing near. They asked if they could pray for me. I told them I felt a little ridiculous, but okay. What followed was a deep, sincere appreciation of me and the role I take in their lives and in our group as they gathered close, placed warm hands on my shoulders, and prayed just for me. I cried again, but this time because, for the first time all day (and in a long time, if I'm being truthful), I didn't have to shoulder everything. The thought occurred to me, in that moment, that this is one of the things I hate most about being single. I do everything myself--there's no one to help me "carry the load." It's exhausting.

I don't often get overly metaphysical about my faith, but in that moment I felt the presence of God and the love of both Himself and His people so keenly it was almost tangible. As I seek God, I find Him--sometimes through the most mundane circumstances, and often through His people. Sometimes I don't even consciously realize I'm seeking Him, and still He seeks me out.

Not sure...

My dear friend Jess has started a blog about her growing-up years in the Christian subculture. In fact, she and I are thinking about writing a book. I think I have some valuable things to say, mostly in response to the courtship and "courtship-lite" movement, but that's not really what I want to talk about right now.

I want to continue my last post and thinking about dating a little more. My best friend here in MyCity is dating someone. I mean REALLY dating someone. It's super-serious. I'm happy for her, but I'm also a little frustrated. If I'm going to be totally honest, I get upset because I don't understand why I can't have that too. Her boyfriend is nice, but he just attempted to "help" me think about meeting men by asking me to explain in detail what I do when I meet a guy I like. I don't want to talk about that with him. I don't know him. It feels very personal, and very vulnerable, to be talking to a semi-stranger about why I can't seem to meet someone who I'm really interested in and who is also interested in me. If I'm going to be completely honest (and why not? I don't think anyone has found this yet), FirstBoyfriend left some fairly deep-seated wounds about my desirability. I worry that the kind of man who would make a good partner for me will not find me attractive or want me. I have no reason to think any different, either.

So I'm going out on dates, and I'm getting out and meeting different people, and I'm hoping--even though hoping is hard right now.

I wrote out an objective list of things to accomplish in this year and posted it on my other blog. Noticeably absent was my desire to fall in love this year. It's time. But I left it off the list because, for whatever reason, it feels like opening up too much of myself in "mixed company" and I get uncomfortable with the idea. I think this is another remnant of what the Christian subculture has taught me about relationships. Nice little Christian girls aren't supposed to want to fall in love. We talk about how love comes when you're not looking for it, and how it just comes out of no where when you're most focused on your relationship with God. We're told that we are not to look for partners at church. Why? Sure, it could get a little weird, but isn't it a good idea to encourage Christian young people to be open to relationships with other Christian young people? We are a culture that has limited the dating options for ourselves (and I don't necessarily have a huge problem with that), but we don't provide places for Christian singles to meet and form connections with one another. Other religious subcultures do, and they don't seem to be having the same crisis we're having. There has to be a solution.

My pastor spent a couple of weeks talking about hope, and his point was that hope, in the biblical sense, is a sense of certainty of how things will turn out in the end. If I had that kind of hope, instead of the fingers-crossed-make-a-wish kind of hope, I think I could rest easier. But the reality is that I'm just not there yet. I'm discouraged, I feel like I'm too much and not enough, and I can't rest yet. I know God has a good plan--I just wish He'd let me in on the next step!

Navigating Dicey Dating Waters...

I'm not the first person to write about this phenomena, but it's been occupying my heart of late, so here goes.

Dating as a Christian sucks. I hate it.

I've been to multiple churches, where I listen to single Christian men speak (often at length) about their desire to marry. They say they want to pursue a woman. They want a woman who seeks God's heart. They want a godly marriage. They want....to stealthily observe a woman for six months--from a distance, mind you--before approaching her to ask her out for the first time. After all, church isn't the place to date.

I find several things very frustrating about this scenario, but let's just start with one of them.

Let's talk about this six months of non-consensual dating nonsense. If you are interested in a woman...talk to her. Smile at her. Strike up a conversation and see if you hit it off. Ask her to get a cup of coffee. Or dinner. We don't think that's a proposal of marriage. When the Christian subculture places so much weight on a date, it's intimidating. I understand why a man might be hesitant to ask a woman out until he's sure he is interested, but I fear this practice promotes the search for perfection many Christian singles (a search I'll confess I am sometimes guilty of... but it's something I'm working on) seem bent on. If you're watching with an eye towards faults, you will find them.

Many of us brought up in the Church are guilty of trying to maintain our "church faces" when we find ourselves in the midst of other Christians. We try to look bright-eyed and shiny, speak softly and encouragingly, and act with propriety. But there's a problem there. I'm not perfect. I'm so not perfect that I can't even keep up the facade of perfection. And even trying is absolutely exhausting. For whatever reason, (me? them? timing?) it just hasn't worked out so far. I know Christian guys feel the pressure too, in different ways, and I think that pressure is incredibly damaging. They're told that girls get too involved, and that almost any interaction is enough to make us hear wedding bells (that's a post for another day). They must think that an invitation to coffee will be taken as a serious move on their part, so I can't blame them for not making a move with women in real life.

So what is a busy grad school student who can't seem to find an interested Christian guy to do? Well, join eHarmony, of course. Strangely, I've seen several of these men from church on eHarmony too, which makes me think that my theories about the pressure the Church puts on singles are, at least part, spot on.

I had two dates this weekend, and I've decided maybe it's time to document these things. I've changed the names to protect the guilty.

Date A--ITman

Date A was with a man who is just over a decade older than me. I had some small concern about this, but both my roommate and my mother assured me this is not something I should be overly occupied about at this point in my life. He took me to a really nice restaurant. The food was lovely. The conversation was not. I have literally never been so bored in my entire life. I can normally carry on a conversation with almost anyone. I'm good for at least 2 hours with nearly anyone. He mentioned at least 8 times how expensive the restaurant was. I don't know if it's my Southern upbringing or what, but I find any mention of personal finance or expense in this sort of situation to be really uncomfortable. I just don't think it's appropriate. I can read the menu. Yes, I realize you chose an expensive restaurant. It's not necessary for me to have a good time with you, but I do appreciate the effort you put into this evening. Thank you. See? I am grateful (wow. I sound like a bitch. I feel bad, but I've promised myself I'll be completely honest on this blog. I need to see how much of this is me, and how much is them). No need to mention it again. For a while, I actually thought he was going to pull out the bill and show it to me.

He had strange body language, but I can't really put my finger on what was up with that. Heck, I'm an academic. I know quite a few people who have, shall we say, alternative social strategies. They are very successful, and some of them even have weird body language. But ITman's mannerisms were oddly off-putting. And, as shallow as this sounds, his laugh was like a donkey braying. The two and a half hour dinner crawled by. I'm not terribly experienced with dating people I've never met, so I made the rookie mistake of agreeing to dinner and a movie. I should have just agreed to dinner, though I did go to the movie too. Now I know. From now on I'll agree to dinner and see how it goes from there. I didn't enjoy carrying on with the date when I knew I wasn't interested. It didn't feel fair, but I didn't know what else to do without being rude. Of course, I was being rude, just in a different way. I'm building this plane in the air, people.

Date B "Preacherboy"

Date B was with a guy who is a pastor a few hours away from here. I have some concern about the logistics of dating someone I won't realistically be able to see on a weekly basis, but I'm really (despite my bitchy description of Date A) trying to be open-minded about this process. It's hard. I'm not thrilled about online dating. I would really just love for someone to notice me in my real life, think I'm lovely and worth pursuing, and go for it. But I also don't think Mr. The One is going to just show up on my doorstep. I'm trying to do my part here, but I'm really struggling with a niggling concern that online dating just doesn't work for me. Maybe it doesn't suit my personality. Maybe I can't give these men a fair chance because I've worked up so much anxiety. If online dating doesn't work for me, though, I don't know what to do. Does trusting God mean that we don't do any of the work? I don't think so. What does "doing the work" look like for me in this situation? I just don't know. I wish I did.

Preacherboy rode down to MyCity with a few of his parishioners for a game at University. The date wasn't really planned out in great detail, and I got the plan in pieces.

Him: Do you want to go to the basketball game with me?

Me: Okay, sure.

Him, two days later: Okay, well, I'll be riding down with some people.

Me: Ooookkkay....

Him, the next day: We'll be arriving around lunchtime.

Me: Okay?

Him, via text, the day of the date: Do you know where Restaurant is? We'll be there in 20 minutes.

Me: Yes. But I'm not ready yet. Can we meet for coffee after you finish with lunch?

Me, in my own head: So, is that an invite? Do I want to have lunch with you and your parishioners? No. No, I do not. Is this an audition to for Preacher's Wife????

Add to that my new discovery from last night (see Date A) that long first dates are probably a bad idea, and spending lunch, all afternoon, and then a basketball game with someone I may not hit it off with, and I was about to break out in hives. My amazing roommate talked me off the ledge. My mother offered Southern pull-back phrases I could use if I met him and couldn't stomach the thought of the game. They both (virtually, through the wonders of the cell phone and text messaging) pushed me out the door to meet him mid-afternoon for coffee. It went well. We had plenty to talk about, and I certainly wasn't bored. He did not bring his parishioners along. I decided not to back out of the basketball game. Then there was an awkward moment, where he assumed I would give him a ride to the arena, and I refused, citing my policy of not riding in cars with boys (or, at least, of not riding in cars with men I don't know well). I've known enough preachers over the years to be disabused of the notion that they are necessarily safe because of their vocation. They're men. Just like any other man. Some of them are good men and some are not. And as nice as he seems to be, he's still a stranger, he's still bigger than I am, and I'm still responsible for drawing boundaries that protect my own safety. So I told him I wouldn't drive him over. So awkward. An entire school of awkward turtles swam past as he just sat there and looked at me silently. I prompted him with a couple alternative transportation options, but I just wanted to sink into the floor. Or escape.

But they came and got him and I got in the RollerSkate and drove over to the arena. He waited on me outside and we went in. I had a pretty good time. I'm not a huge sports enthusiast, but this was a good idea for a first date. We didn't have to sit there silently (like a movie), but we didn't have to talk the entire time. Well done, Preacherboy. He mentioned feeling bad he didn't spend any money on the date (students get in free to games!), but I really feel like him coming all this way was a nice gesture, and I told him so. He suggested he'd like to come back to MyCity for us to go out again. I think I'll take him up on it. Am I super-excited? Not exactly. But I've found getting super-excited at this point is just an invitation to get hurt, so that's ok with me.

I've never been someone to "keep my options open." Mostly, I get emotionally involved and feel like I shouldn't be open to talking to other people way too early. So I'm trying something new. I'm keeping my options open. Maybe God will surprise me.