how many men does it take to change a fabulous female?*

Speaking of pining, I recently came across the following letter (journal entry, actually) from a long-ago ex, dated 13 Oct 2002. Before I toss it out with all the other relics of an ill-fated relationship, let me use an excerpt as a bridge to a topic near and dear to my heart…

“You intrigue me. You always intrigued me, from the first time I saw you . . . I would hear and see things about you that only intrigued me more: like that you didn’t watch R-rated movies or wear pants and that you were against intervis. Maybe it struck me as a little extreme at the time, plus I was on my whole anti-opposite gender kick as well, plus of course I’m shy, so it was convenient to just not do anything. . .

“Last night, you came over [and] I just wanted to come right out and say, ‘Look, I’m really interested in you and if you want to take things slowly, that’s fine, but you could you just tell me whether you’re interested or not so I know and don’t do or say anything stupid.’ Well, I guess I came kind of close to saying that, but then I decided that maybe I don’t know just yet. Even though I was getting a little frustrated with not knowing, part of me was loving it at the same time. I think it’s really classy about how you’re going about this. . . with the guy doing all of the work . . .“

Ah, those golden days of first love and feminism! This note brought to mind the old freshman feminist on a rampage to spurn the evil ways of man (ok, so nothing has changed :). And he was an angry, woman-hating libertarian - God forbid! This would never work. (It didn’t.)

Still, this letter might remind the fabulous females out there (as well as me) that there’s something to be said for living without a passing thought for what some guy might think. . . . that sometimes hard-to-get really is better – when it not a mere game, but a way of life. . . . that it doesn’t always matter if you aren’t on the market or you don’t fit the mold. . . .

The thing is, for most of my life, a significant other was the last thing on my mind. As a young child, an unmistakable sense of destiny had so seized me that early on I determined not to let anything get in the way of it. E.g., I wanted to start college when I was 12; I began when I was 15. I wanted to live abroad long-term; now I am. In my mind, boys were nothing but an obstacle between me and my dreams, and so, quite simply, they had to go.

I blame this tenacity on my father, a minister for whom the term “missionary zeal” was probably invented. For all faults of fundamentalist Christianity, it did leave this mark: to pursue a calling with utmost abandon – with or without a man, whether or not anyone approved. For this reason, though my beliefs have grown liberal through the years, I see conservative Christianity as in some ways more empowering than any wave of feminism ever could hope to be.

Today, I am neither a fundamentalist nor a feminist . . . or, for that matter, a first love. But reminiscing on that elysian life before boys, I find myself wanting to reaffirm some of that original resolve, a firmness of purpose that pre-exists any relationship and serves as a litmus test for them all. Because it honestly doesn’t matter if no one likes me, just so long as the right One does in the end. . . who will love me for who I am. Right??

How about you: Do any of you have any experience of someone being drawn to you because of your unwavering commitment to something? Or, alternatively, have you ever changed something fundamental about yourself because of someone – for the worse? (I know I have!)

Who knows, maybe one day, I’ll find someone that is not a hindrance, but a help, to my passion. Until that time, however, here I stand; I can do no other. God help me. Amen!