Singles Map

I just came across this map from the National Geographic:


According to this, anyway...the odds are stacked in my favor here in Chicago. Sorry ladies - it looks like the West coast is the hotbed for single men; perhaps it's all the computer programmers? I'd be interested to see a similar map for single Christians...I wonder how much it would deviate from this one.

Those who have nothing can share nothing; those who are going nowhere can have no fellow-travelers. - Clyde Staples Lewis

Sometimes Sunday afternoons are the worst.

Not always. Actually, its rare. Most Sunday afternoons I'm busy teaching the Senior High youth group at church. Then there's the 16 glorious weeks or so that I'm straight away to the sports bar to meet up with my best bud Dave and see how bad my fantasy team is performing that week. But the NFL can't be there for you all the time, alas.

For me, as I travel to work on Monday mornings, Sunday afternoons are usually a rush of laundry and packing and bills and mail and whatnot, so that I can have a few hours free in the evening to chill, as it were, although it seems that's usually the unobtainable ideal.

But then there are those random Sunday afternoons, like the ones on a holiday weekend, where we don't have youth group, and I get home early, and I don't really feel like starting the responsible tasks of the day.

The worst ones are always, ironically (cosmically), the ones where worship was such a beautiful thing that morning. I felt God in my heart in so many ways, and that's something I haven't felt so much, so often, for so long. I felt His sorrow for the ways in which I've betrayed Him, in the morning's Reflection:

In any group of teacher and disciples the disciple was never permitted to greet his teacher first, since this implied equality. Judas' sign, therefore, was not just a signal to the mob, but a deliberate insult, and final repudiation of his relationship with Jesus. - Moses Auerbach

I felt His ever-present love in the Psalms in our Call to Worship:

We praise you Lord, who crowns us with love and compassion, who satisfies our desires with good things so that our youth is renewed like the eagle's...From everlasting to everlasting your love is with those who fear you..

I felt drawn to Him and into the body in the Renewal:

But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son purifies us from all sin... - 1 John 1

I felt my utter, utter need in the Prayer of Confession:

Though you should guide us, we inform ourselves. Though you should rule us, we control ourselves. Though you should fulfill us, we console ourselves...For we think your truth too high, your will too hard, your power too remote, your love too free. But they are not! And without them, we are of all people most miserable...

I felt my desire to truly turn back to him, re-awakened in the African-American spirtiual first written by Joseph Hart in 1759 - I Will Arise and Go to Jesus:

Let not conscience make you linger,
nor of fitness fondly dream.
All the fitness He requireth
is to feel your need of Him.

I will arise and go to Jesus,
He will embrace me in His arms.
In the arms of my dear Savior, oh,
there are ten thousand charms.

I understood Mark's account of Jesus' arrest in a completely new light, through the sermon:

Then everyone deserted him and fled.

A young man, wearing nothing but a linen gament, was following Jesus. When they seized him, he fled naked, leaving his garment behind. - Mark 14:50-52

You see, all 4 of the Gospels recount the story of Jesus' arrest in quite some detail, and yet Mark was the only writer to capture the story of this young man, which occurred after everyone had deserted Christ. Its not entirely unsubstantiated to suspect that this young man may have been Mark himself - recreating, as N.T. Wright noted, the naked flight from God in the garden, all over again. Inviting me, as it were, to put myself into the story, to see myself in that same state.

And I pondered this all, set to the brassy strains of Edwald's Vivo from Quintet No. 3.

I experienced all of this and more in my wonderful, huge church, on this windy, cold winter morning. How could this lead me to the worst of afternoons?

Its quite simple.

Think of the most beautiful sight you have ever seen. Go ahead, it may take you a minute to recall, and even then to evaluate or decide. It may be the sunset over a deep blue sea, perhaps the wisp of snow off of soaring peaks, or deer in a meadow in the fog of dawn, with Half Dome rising above the trees.

Think of the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suites in G Major, maybe just a thunderstorm, or children laughing.

The best taste to ever cross your lips - beef braised to tender perfection, or avacado in a mustard glaze. A '90 French Bordeaux. Or maybe just plain old macaroni and cheese when you hadn't had anything to eat in days.

We may enjoy these wonderful things for what they are, yet our deepest enjoyment of them isn't found when we hoard them for our own experience. The finest wine, the most breath-taking vista, the sweetest strains - all fall lost on us if we can't see the gleam in the eyes of another person realizing the same thing that we have. We were created in this way - its simply not in our nature to be able to know the fullness of something, anything, on our own. Alone, we cannot have that complete joy that we know when we have an otherwise identical encounter in the presence of others.

This is where I get to on these rare afternoons. The sun sets so painfully slow, but the hours pass all too fast in the end. I have these wonderful truths bubbling up in my heart, and no cups into which to pour the overflow. I know that God puts me here, at times, for a reason, but I still struggle in these times when I feel like I'm missing out on the complete experience. It feels like I'm watching things through a one-way mirror: I see and hear and know the situation for what it is, but I'm not part of it as if I were in the room itself, breathing the same air.

I must be clear: when I say these are the worst, it is not so much out of a spirit of complaint, as it is yearning. I think my namesake did a fair deal of this in his writings.

I know He's given me good friends to call or meet for dinner or just simply blog at, and I return to Him even with these words, with a trust that will not fade, and... I wait.

Great Expectations

The logistics of my date could have gone better. Saturday night we went out for Indian food and music. The Indian restaurant was incredibly crowded - I felt like we were sharing our table with couples on both sides of us. The only available table was right next to the door, so we were subjected to sub-zero blasts of frigid wind every time it was opened. We ate our meal with our coats on.

After dinner I discovered that sometimes bands can be flaky. Who'd have thought? There were three bands that night scheduled at Martyrs - and the band listed as first on their website starting at 9:30 was a bluegrass band I knew she'd like, and it would be a bit quieter music so we could chat. When we got there, however, the drum set and electric guitars being set up onstage didn't look very down-homey. It turns out the band we wanted to see had switched to the 1:30 am slot. So we spent the next two hours getting our eardrums blown out by a "psychedelic groove" band, and hardly a word exchanged between us. They were actually pretty good - but it didn't let me accomplish what I wanted to do, which was get to know this girl better.

So all that aside, the date was a little less than I was expecting. This girl, let's call her Sue, is sweet, empathetic, kind, beautiful, and.....boring. What I took to be a feminine mysteriousness could just be dullness. But I'm not sure - perhaps she was just reserved, or perhaps she's just a reserved person in general. It came across that she's not all that into me - but maybe I just wasn't reading her right because I don't know her well enough. Ladies - here's a case of a guy scratching his head over confusing signals.

This also brings up the whole expectations debate. Just because she didn't live up to this ideal construct in my head, I'm disappointed. I've talked to numerous couples, however - including my parents, who said if they had quit at a less-than-great first date they wouldn't have the wonderful relationship they have. Or - I wouldn't be here :)

Has anyone else experienced the first-date blues, followed by something better?

Mr. Hopeful says Hello

Mr. Hopeful (aka adam) greets and salutes those I haven't already talked with through comments! I thought I'd tell you a little bit about myself and my journey as a means of introduction. I've found in my life as well as my art I can really only speak from personal experience - or that unique experience of life we all have; all different, and all meaningful.

While I have been a Christian my entire life - for most of it my faith has been a solitary pursuit. I've rarely had a faith community. This is primarily due to my chosen career - acting. I've had to drop out of countless small groups and bible studies for rehearsals and shows. 1 hour on Sunday mornings is not enough time to create deep, meaningful relationships :)

As far as dating and relationships go - I've recently experienced a re-awakening, thanks in part to this blog and others like it. I honestly didn't know there were other Christians out there thinking and struggling with the same kinds of things. I've had relationships in the past, but they've all developed organically out of multi-year friendships into something deeper. After my last girlfriend 6 years ago I swore it off for a while, and became a Purity Robot^tm.

It happened so slowly that I didn't know it was going on...but the slow closure of my heart affected more than my dating life. I'm a whole person with one heart, and what I do with it affects my whole being. I've been reading a lot about the heart, in the Bible and elsewhere. In the Psalms God is praised for "enlarging my heart" - but this is a two-sided coin. When the heart is enlarged, its capacity for love is increased, but also its capacity for suffering. I've felt and experienced more in the last 6 months in my emotional life than the rest of my 27 years put together, and I wouldn't trade that for the potatoes in Ireland.

So now I admit I'm discontent, and feel much more at peace. I'm lonely - and for the first time in a while, I don't feel guilty about that.

There's much more I could say, but I wanted to try and be brief :) And yes - I went on my first date in 6 years this last Saturday...but that's the subject for another post, once I process things.

Some of you may have seen this before, so this is for those few who might not have yet had the pleasure...

Let's say a guy named Roger is attracted to a woman named Elaine. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.

And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Elaine, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: "Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?"

And then there is silence in the car. To Elaine, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: Gee, I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.

And Roger is thinking: Gosh. Six months.

And Elaine is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of relationship, either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily toward . . . I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?

And Roger is thinking: . . . so that means it was . . . let's see.... February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer's, which means . . . lemme check the odometer . . . Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.

And Elaine is thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I'm reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed -- even before I sensed it -- that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why he's so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of being rejected.

And Roger is thinking: And I'm gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.

And Elaine is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure.

And Roger is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty. That's exactly what they're gonna say, the rats.

And Elaine is thinking: maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.

And Roger is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give them a warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their ....

"Roger," Elaine says aloud.

"What?" says Roger, startled.

"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have . . . I feel so . . ." (She breaks down, sobbing.)

"What?" says Roger.

"I'm such a fool," Elaine sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."

"There's no horse?" says Roger.

"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Elaine says.

"No!" says Roger, glad to finally know the correct answer.

"It's just that . . . It's that I . . . I need some time," Elaine says.

(There is a 15-second pause while Roger, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)

"Yes," he says.

(Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.)

"Oh, Roger, do you really feel that way?" she says.

"What way?" says Roger.

"That way about time," says Elaine.

"Oh," says Roger. "Yes."

(Elaine turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very
nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)

"Thank you, Roger," she says.

"Thank you," says Roger.

Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Roger gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two Czechs he never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he
is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures
it's better if he doesn't think about it. (This is also Roger's policy regarding
world hunger.)

The next day Elaine will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it, either.

Meanwhile, Roger, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Elaine's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say:

"Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?"

listen...

I ran across this poem on a friend of a friend's facebook profile. It speaks to me, not only because it's true of my life, but also because it helps me understand how even well-intentioned criticism and insensitivity can deeply wound someone who wants to communicate what cannot be spoken. This is a major blind spot in my life, but I hope that someday I will love all my friends as this poem describes.

Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear.
For I wear a mask; I wear a thousand masks,
Masks that I'm afraid to take off,
But none of them are me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled, for God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command,
and that I need no one.
But don't believe me.
Please.
My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask,
my ever-varying and ever-concealing mask.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, in loneliness.
But I hide this.
I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant, sophisticated facade to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation. My only salvation.
And I know it.
That is if it's followed by acceptance, if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from my self,
from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this. I don't dare. I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance and love.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh.
And your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just not good,
and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without, and a trembling child within.
And so begins the parade of masks.
The glittering, but empty parade of masks.
And my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me.

So when I'm going through my routine do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say, what for survival I need to say,
but what I cannot say.
I dislike hiding. Honestly.
I dislike the superficial game I'm playing, the superficial, phony game.
I'd really like to be genuine, and spontaneous, and me,
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when it seems like that's the last thing I seem to want or need.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind and gentle and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings, very small wings, very feeble wings,
but wings.
With your sensitivity and sympathy, and your power of understanding,
you can breath life into me. I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator of the person that is me if you choose to.
Please choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic and uncertainty,
from my lonely prison.
So do not pass me by. Please do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach me, the blinder I may strike back,
It's irrational, but despite what all the books say about man, I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for. But I am told that
love is stronger than strong walls, and in this lies my hope.
My only hope.
Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands, but with gentle hands—
for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone that you know very well.
For I am every man that you meet, and every woman that you meet.

– anonymous

Who Will Advocate for Us?

This whole singleness situation in our society is a mess.

We all know it. We all know there’s something wrong with staying single so long, with putting off marriage and children to early middle age. It’s especially disheartening in the Christian sphere, since the church as a universal body has emphatically supported marriage up until fifteen years ago. (This change only occurred in Protestant circles. You will never hear "the gift/call of/to singleness" preached from a Catholic pulpit.)

So we know there’s something wrong, but there’s evidently nothing to be done about it.

We girls have tried everything. We’ve tried contentment, we’ve tried declaring that we’re not ready for marriage yet, we’ve tried dressing well and looking attractive to catch the guys’ attention, we’ve tried focusing on our careers and honing our ambitions both to distract ourselves and to look more attractive and successful, we’ve tried bettering ourselves and cultivating our talents and skills, we’ve tried making ourselves more interesting, we’ve tried being complete people, we’ve tried relying on Jesus to bring that special guy into our lives, we’ve tried patience and waiting, and we’ve tried asking guys out. We’ve tried regular church attendance, frequenting coffee shops and bookstores, enthusiastically sitting down in singles groups, holding dinner parties for single friends in the hopes of encouraging the sprouting of couples, praying, and ignoring the problem. We’ve tried filling the loneliness with friends, roommates, and pets.

Nothing works.

As a go-getter, I’m increasingly frustrated by my fruitless endeavors to effect some result. I’ve tried dating men who aren't Christians, since they ask, but have found that they aren’t to my taste. No matter how great or nice or gentlemanly they are, in the end there’s an insurmountable gap that comes from an unshared faith. If I were a rote Christian it might not matter, but like most other Christian girls my age, it formulates the most crucial part of my own makeup. Dating someone who doesn't have that eventually becomes a Tower of Babel experience – we don’t speak the same language.

So there are no more avenues to explore. I know eHarmony takes time, but let’s be honest, that’s a last recourse. One of desperation, of admitting defeat in drawing any of the men I actually know.

I’m not sure where the break comes. I know a lot of it has to do with our upbringing, so guys, don’t worry, I feel for you. Our parents, for whatever reason (and most of them married young), encouraged us not to date. Was it the advent of True Love Waits? Was it a terror reaction to the rise in teenage promiscuity? At some point I think it boils down to a certain (sometimes well-founded, sometimes not) lack of trust or faith in us on our parents’ part to keep good heads on our shoulders and make responsible decisions, coupled with a lack of supervision. Courtship used to be highly supervised, complete with chaperones, and even dating, up to the 60s, had some pretty severe limitations as to where a young couple could go so as to prevent private trouble-making. Which of course is a very good thing -- we've all seen Romeo and Juliet; we know what unsupervised, unrestrained adolescent passion can do. But the Jesus Movement in the 70s seemed to carry more purity of heart and responsible behavior back into the culture – the Christian culture, at least. My parents were engaged for two years and stayed sexually pure until their marriage. Their friends made it too.

But for some reason, they appeared to think we were fated by our own evil natures to screw it up. (No pun intended.) Never mind that we had been reared on Bible verses and chastity classes, and taught to make good decisions. My parents trusted my decision-making skills in regard to my academics and youth group activities, but not really my social life. And certainly I was discouraged from dating.

(A note to the parents: It's gotta suck raising teenagers in this culture, where kids are encouraged to rebel and society strips away your authority. My parents did the best they could; and in some respects the church did, too; but something didn't happen in cultivating kids for marriage and etiquette.)

And not dating in high school was fine; I didn’t see the point of dating then anyway, because who marries their high school sweethearts all that often anymore? Plus the selection wasn’t exactly winning (and I was a weirdo myself), and if I did like somebody, I had endless hours of paternal teasing to contend with.

Now, my parents had nothing against me dating in college, and put no pressure on me either to stay single or to get married. But they never liked any of the guys I did. (I mean, they were right, but all the same it wasn’t fostering a "try and see" attitude.) And I know a lot of people my age, especially guys, whose parents actively discouraged serious relationships until some undefined future perfect time when everybody was "ready" for it. And these guys’ mothers never wanted them to leave home.

And with the growing absence of wholesome coed group activities, like dances (not the grungy grindy kind, but swing and ballroom and contra) or cookouts, there wasn’t a safe haven to practice interactions with the opposite sex. Men’s mothers and fathers never taught them how to approach a girl, how to date a girl, or often even how to treat a girl, but instead they taught them to "guard their hearts," to wait until they were "stable," and to get a job first. Meanwhile the guys never received guidance or training on how to conquer the natural trepidations that guys legendarily feel about asking a girl to do anything; and were never taught that the achievement of manhood is taking on adult responsibilities – family and career. A career used to be the means by which a man provided for his family; now the career comes first, and family second, if at all. Dating and marriage became this fearsome realm of temptation and commitment that it was best to avoid altogether until a serious relationship "just happened" or until "the right person came along."

So instead of marriage acting as a milemarker of true adulthood, something for a guy to make himself worthy of and strive for, adulthood became entirely career-oriented and marriage something that blew into a person’s life like Mary Poppins when the time was magically right.

So what we have is a generation of people who are largely completely unequipped to get serious and grow up. Adult responsibilities took a strong root with the girls – in this age of women’s power we are taught to fear nothing and achieve everything, and we took it and ran with it – but in the boys there seems to be a spirit of fear that was fostered from a very young age, either by parents or the church environment where any physical contact with girls, any hugs or backrubs, were decried as leading to lust and the downfall of one’s soul – so that men from their mid-twenties onward are left with inexperience in opposite sex interaction, cluelessness as to dating etiquette, a primary focus on self, and a conviction that their own sexuality is abhorrent to God. Or, conversely, with the rise of divorce within the church (and again, aside from the occasional pulpit message about divorce being wrong, nothing much is done about it, to say, God always loves you, but if you're married, you need to stay that way), men in particular are disillusioned, feel that marriage is doomed to fail, or are terrified of ruining their marriages should they try to make a go of it.

And this spirit of fear in some guys manifests itself in snide, bitter, hardhearted attitudes toward women altogether; in others it makes them powerlessly shy and retiring; in others it makes them arrogantly convinced that no girl is good enough for them, because their mothers think so. In a lot of them it has bred a denial of the necessity of family.

We are no longer taught that "for this reason a man shall leave his father and his mother and be united to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh"; we are taught that "a boy or a girl shall leave his or her parents sometime after college and get a fulfilling career and make a lot of money, and then wait until marriage finds him or her, if it ever does."

The guys whose parents taught them otherwise are already married. The rest are waiting for something, and they don’t know what. The rules aren’t clear. Nobody’s taught us what to do next, and there aren’t any signs in the sky.

And nobody’s advocating for us. Because in the end, the guys always have the power. A girl can do everything she can do, up to the point of asking a guy to date her, but if he doesn’t want to, he won’t. If he doesn’t want to "wake up," he won’t. If he doesn’t want to date or get married yet, there’s nothing she can do to convince him otherwise. The scales are tipped away from the women.

This is where we need the older generation to step in. Parents need to be telling their twenty-something sons that it’s time to put aside the childish things and take on manly responsibilities. Marriage is the healthiest state for anyone. Sure, there are some crappy marriages out there, and now that we haven’t been raised to be good husbands and wives there’s a greater risk of things falling apart, since we’re most used to considering ourselves and really don’t know what we’re doing; but there are two thousand years of tradition to draw from, and our own parents’ wisdom, and God’s command to be fruitful and multiply.

The singles need the backing of the older generations. Paul’s letters to Timothy are very clear in expressing the need of young men to be mentored by older men, and young women to be mentored by older women. (This means that dads specifically need to be getting on their sons’ cases; if it’s just the moms doing it, it’s nagging.) The parental generation didn't want us to date, didn't tell us much about the practical aspects of preparing for marriage, and now expects us to take care of ourselves while knowing nothing, or to rely solely on God's Santa Claus provision of that magical mate at that magical moment (when in every other area we know that holiness is something to work toward -- we have responsibilities, things we have to do, in living the Christian life. If we aren't supposed to sit around and do nothing and wait for God to make all our actions holy, then in this area of marriage, which is a creation mandate, we should likewise seek to do something in order to get married). The church culture appears to be so materialistic and afraid of offending, or just cynical about young people’s uncontrollable impulses to sin and resentment or deafness of the church's message, that it says nothing to us about right or wrong, politeness or rudeness, action or inaction.

And the Protestant churches need to stop trying so hard to accommodate singles by legitimizing their situation. This is a unique trend in the entirety of world history, and it has truly scary implications. Putting singleness on the same plane with marriage means that it’s okay never to get married (i.e. learn to live with and for someone other than yourself) or to have children (i.e. preserve Christianity for the future generations – the Psalms describe godly daughters as "pillars gracing a hall," and pillars weren’t only beautiful but structurally vital – produce more salt for the earth, keep the church alive to minister in practical ways to a broken world rife with evil, and carry on the Great Commission). Instead of sanctifying a trend that is strangling the church body and leaving men and women alike feeling frightened, empty, powerless, and alone, the church needs to stand up and tell us to get our acts together and pursue marriage. No more "contentment." No more "education first." No more "wait and God will make it happen." Instead "hear and obey."

Debbie Maken’s book is fantastic. But young women can’t change society by themselves. We need the support of the church authority, of the fathers of the men who aren’t dating, of our mothers to keep their eyes peeled for potential mates for their daughters, or for the single young women around them who live far from their parents. In today’s attitude of fierce independence and the idea that a person’s personal life is nobody else’s business, we need the church to take back its traditional authority over the lives of its members and remind us that our private lives impact the world, and that the church does have the right to tell Christians what to do.

It’s like everybody’s waiting for the girls to do something, when we’re, sadly, on the bottom rung of the power ladder. A lot of guys our age, through their fear or pride or stubbornness, live as if they’re at the top of that ladder. Dads and churches need to remind them that they’re not.

Of course it’s going to take some heroic efforts to rectify our situation. Like I said, we haven’t been taught from childhood that marriage is necessary and that we should be preparing for it. So there’s a lot of internal adjustment to be done, and the whole body needs to come together to do it. And when we finally are married, it’s going to be up to us to teach to our children the things that weren’t taught to us, so that our sons and daughters won’t find themselves growing past youth and locked in a paralysis of ignorance and passivity.

nil

No date. No phone call. No big.

dazed and confused

By way of introduction, I am the Christian guy referenced in the first paragraph of the post below ("first comes love, but then what?"), and I have been reading this blog for the last several months. I've hesitated to post, since I thought my comments would be divisive, but la persona herself suggested that I introduce myself here. (BTW, she is the only one of the fabulous females whom I've met, and she initially told me about this blog several months ago.)

I am now 24. Not only am I single, but I have never had a girlfriend. I grew up in an extremely isolated, ultra-conservative home-schooling family, where even my Steven Curtis Chapman contraband CDs were declared "evil" and confiscated. My parents were so paranoid that they made me sign a contract before I went to college stipulating that I would not date or court (or even touch) anyone while there. That was enormously stressful and put a wedge in our relationship which persists to this day. The only honorable thing to do, I reasoned, was to keep my word but to escape college as soon as possible; I graduated in three years. I went to grad school the next two years and currently work as an engineer in Columbus, Indiana.

I am very passionate about urban outreach, and outreach in general. I'm deeply troubled by the seeming selfishness of the church—so eager to build expensive buildings, live in nice houses, and lead comfortable and safe lives, but so unwilling to sacrifice (really sacrifice, until it hurts) for those who are forgotten and lost. How can we live our cushy lives in America and be so oblivious to those rotting in inner cities and dying in third-world countries? It's even worse when we sit around and argue about theology and pretend that we are so much better and more spiritual than the "riffraff" in the streets.

When I lived in Atlanta and Boston, I was heavily involved in urban outreach, first with my church and then with a one-on-one mentoring program. Now I live in a modest house in inner-city Indianapolis, and I spend most of my free time working with teens who are from broken families and entrenched in poverty. I drive an old but reliable car and have no intentions to upgrade. Don't get me wrong—I have a very comfortable life, but it's just not the typical middle-class existence, and it is certainly not typical for graduates of my alma maters. My story is on my blog, which is best read from the oldest post to the most recent, although a recent entry describes a unique challenge of my single status. I also have a personal website, which hasn't been updated in nearly a year (apologies); I'm including it as a picture so Google's bots can't access it:

When women see me as a financially secure man who can support their dreams of an idyllic life in the 'burbs, I run the other way. I'm not judging them for their dreams, but I personally am not going to have that life, and any prospectives deserve to know that up front. I want a woman who does not have to change who she is, or what her passions are, to be with me. I liked Miss persona in part because she seemed to be not only willing but excited about such a lifestyle. No one is perfect, of course, but her actions did say something important about her heart.

This marks the third time I have seriously tried to initiate a relationship ("serious" owing to the months of preparation and perhaps unwise emotional entanglement each involved), and it is the third time I have been rejected. All three rejections occurred without so much as a first date; evidently my non-eligibility is obvious from a distance. This is the first time, however, that I have learned why.

It may not be as apparent online as it is in person that she and I have dramatically different personalities. If I were to describe myself in three words, they would be intense, honest, and earnest. I've never been one to shy away from conflict, and sometimes I initiate it. Perhaps as a result, I am not a sensitive or kind person. Hard though it may be to believe, I actually do try to be sensitive, but it's always a conscious and imperfect effort and will never flow naturally from my personality.

Months ago, I hesitated to pursue anything more with her because I knew the personality difference would be difficult at the very least. However, since many successful relationships involve contrasting personalities, I thought it was something we could work through. I thought that the most important requirements were a common faith and common life goals. I thought that if we built a solid friendship on that basis, it could naturally grow into something more. Without going into all the details, it has now become quite evident that I was mistaken—shared goals alone are not enough to sustain this type of relationship; it is also necessary to have compatible personalities and better chemistry. Oh yeah, and I just need to be "nicer."

Describing this experience as difficult would be an understatement, but it's not productive to complain. It's strangely comforting to be assured that she would never have been happy to be with me regardless of how hard I tried. My insensitive personality would never have allowed it, and I simply can't change that. I must believe that it will work out for the best, and I hope she has gotten something good out of an experience that has been very painful for her.

Looking forward, it is difficult to be excited about the dating scene. I feel like I am very ill equipped to be a romantic boyfriend or husband, as my track record so amply demonstrates. And I don't have any idea how to learn. If I'm trying to dance or box or some other new activity, I am shown certain moves which I repeat mechanically at first. Usually I make mistakes over and over again, as I'm a rather slow learner. I become natural only after a great deal of practice. But when it comes to dating, I'm expected to be a world-class performer on the first try, or I lose my chance.

For example, I know intellectually that women want to be pursued. I have learned that they want be pursued teasingly, gently, deftly, but I have no idea how to do that. My first attempts at "pursuit" resemble my moves on the dance floor—I'm clumsy, overbearing, and step on my partners' toes (and feelings). No woman wants that. I don't know how to get better without practice, but as time slips by, I seem to get only worse. I don't want to become an old bachelor engineer.

It's not for lack of trying. I've really tried to be attentive, and I've put a premium on respecting women. But I wonder if they mistake respect for timidity. For whatever it's worth, I read Pride and Prejudice to try to understand women's perspective on romance, but I'm afraid I didn't really understand it. Darcy seems to be sort of aloof and contentious, as I am, but women actually like him. I read Boundless, which is frustrating because it's a continual tirade against men who allegedly don't have the guts to ask women out. I've read other books and talked to many people, but talking about dating doesn't make me a boyfriend any more than talking about dancing would make me an expert dancer. Then after all that, I hear that my real problem is that I'm trying too hard. What the...?!

I feel awkward posting these thoughts here because the gist of this blog is that women never get asked out. Perhaps it's a small comfort that some men can't seem to make anything happen either.

As far as my future plans are concerned, I think the consensus of the Fabulous Females and Boundless editors and other Christians is that as a guy, I owe it to the human race to be dating as often as possible. And I'm trying to. There's an urban youth workers' conference coming up in Indianapolis, and I've got my fingers crossed (yeah, I know, ulterior motives). My church is a small urban church a mile from my home (which has no single women my age), and it is partnered with a megachurch in the suburbs. Megachurches in suburbs aren't my style, but I'm thinking about attending on Saturday nights so I can meet women. I can't believe I'm even thinking about that, because I always derided guys who went to church to meet women. But at least I'm very involved in my own church, so I'm not being a fake Christian. I may join the singles group at the megachurch, although I've heard scary things about singles groups (especially when they advertise free child care). I'm even planning to join e-harmony if nothing happens. I must confess that this type of dating is no fun... I'm pursuing an abstraction rather than a person. But maybe I'll learn how to do it right so I'll be more prepared next time.

Once again, I hope this post has been slightly helpful to you ladies. You're not the only ones who find yourselves alone. If it is not helpful, let me know.

First

Thirty-five minutes ago I asked a guy out.

Now, I've never done this before. I know a lot of you gals are super cool and have casually asked guys to dinner, but not me. Fearless Sarah shrivels to a mewling bundle of nerves at the thought of approaching a guy I like. My usual policy is either I'll be so awkward around him I'll eventually fade into the wallpaper, or I'll just smile a lot and maybe he'll get the picture.

Yeah, so I'm not big with the flirting.

Anyway, there's this guy. I met him a year ago at a party and we yakked each other's ears off for an hour or so. He gave me his number, drew me a map to his church, and invited me to attend. Then he never picked up the phone, didn't have voicemail, didn't return my call, and wasn't at the church. Then the next few times I ran into him he never seemed to remember my name. Oh well, figures.

But last semester he remembered my name. He called MP while she was at my apartment baking cookies to get my number (she evilly handed the phone to me) and got directions to my house to bring me leftover roast beef for my lunches (and it was excellent roast beef. It had fresh basil in it). He stood around in my kitchen, towering over my refrigerator (this guy is tall -- I feel like, well, like a woman standing next to him) and grinning and talking. When I saw him at social events we always wound up in an extended conversation.

Sometime around the past weekend I realized I like him. Could like him a lot. And enlisted my friends for scouting and support. Everyone concluded that he likes me, but being a humanities student would never take the initiative, so I should. Then in an unexpected phone conversation with my dad, Daddy exploded into this sudden, "If you want him, GO FOR HIM. You deserve whatever you want. You're fabulous, and funny, and smart, and beautiful, and sweet, and you never sit around. So don't sit around. If you want him, go for him."

Thanks to all those wingwomen and my awesome father, I took the bull by the horns, bit the bullet, stepped up to the plate, threw my hat in the ring, faced the firing squad, and called him.

And he said yes.

He's out of town for the present, but said he'd be back in South Bend on Saturday, and that he'd call me when he knew his exact schedule. So there's no definite plan yet, but a definite plan to have a plan.

And now I'm freaking out. I'll be drifting along in my usual absentminded fog, when it will suddenly occur to me that I ASKED A GUY OUT and I'll freeze and squeal like a girl when a boy drops an ice cube down her collar. (Poor Marianne. She's been the pep squad for this evening's stint and she has to listen to the freezing and the squealing every five minutes or so.)

She says she doesn't mind.

So internally I'm whooping up a storm, but I don't want to be giddy and gushy all over a blog post.

So we'll leave it at that.

Now if only I could shut up the voice in my head that keeps saying, He only said yes to be nice...