This morning's drive to work was one of deep thought as I spent the time thinking about 'love' and how much we actually know about it. What follows is a semi-chronological history of my dealings with the subject.
The exact date of the first time I thought of love is lost to me, but it was when I was 10 years old. For some reason beyond my knowing, I was deeply ingrained with the belief that I was going to get married, and stay married for the rest of my life. I was also completely sure that there was only one woman out there for me.
Several years later, as the hormones began racing through my body, I began to ponder who this on person was, what she would look like, and how wonderful our life together would be. I also began to become awkward around the girls at school, and that lead to many, MANY, socially dumb moves.
I actually began composing a list of items my future spouse was required to have. She would have to be ticklish, have curly hair, straight teeth, wear those "modest-but-tight-in-the-right-places" dresses all the girls at church wore, etc, etc, and so on and son into a complete mess of items that I was sure only one girl in the world would ever fit into.
I tried to hit on a couple girls, but in the 5th grade, that appears to be nothing but chasing the girls and teasing them and pulling their hair. I'm not sure who came up with this tradition, but I think it's to help relieve the embarrassment following devastating breakups further on. Why else would we really have a notion for making the girls cry?
My particular experience with this lasted all of two days. On the first day, I teased the girl, on the second, I wouldn't leave her alone at recess, so she slapped me. When I woke, surrounded by the playground lady and many classmates who had been at least 800 ft away when the slap occurred, I decided to ice my face (at the request of the nurse) and try a different tactic. Something that involved the girls being more than arms length away before flirting with them.
I moved to Spokane the next year, and tried one more time. This time, I asked her at arms reach to the school dance. We went, and it turned out she lived only a block away. She was a cute little red-head who gave me my first real Valentine's Day gift, a stuffed rabbit which I named Shakespeare. I gave her a poster of a chocolate heart that I got on my last visit to the dentist. We got along pretty well, until I moved again in the 8th grade, and we stopped speaking to each other. Mostly because I was too lazy to write letters. Last I heard, she was engaged to a chainsaw artist who sculpts wooden statues.
Moving back to the other town just increased my desire to date, but severely handicapped my status due to the fact I was a total dork, and a jerk to the girls in grade school. I tried the "friend first" approach.
Side Note: For those who don't know (I'm assuming mostly just women) the "friends first" approach is a tried and failed manly approach at getting into a dating scenario. Unfortunately, no guy between the ages of 14-25 realizes that it won't work, and even if it does, it's totally divine intervention. The approach calls for the guy to insert himself close to a gal as her "friend" with the intention of waiting days, weeks, months, even years for her to realize what a stupendous guy he is, and how much better he is than any guys she's ever dated, and begin dating him. Back to the blog.
That approach, as always, failed miserably. Or at least I thought so. On the last day of 9th grade, after being best friends with the young lady who laid me out in the 5th grade, I broke the news I was moving again, and she lunged at me.
Now, to be honest, I'm a lover, not a fighter. Her moved was more akin to a vicious bear attack than anything I had ever seen before, and so, in anticipation of having my face ripped off, I screamed. Like a little girl. She just simply kissed me on the cheek, and skipped away to her mother's car. I was devestated at that point. I mean, here I was moving again, and I missed out on the one opportunity to pull off a successful "friends first" approach.
The rest of high school did not go well, as I got stuck in the "let's just be friends" loop from several young women.
Side Note: Let's just lay this one on the table now, so that every female out there can understand. NO GUY WANTS TO BE JUST FRIENDS. Seriously, it' just telling us "I don't like you enough to date you, but I also don't like you enough to tell you the truth and let you pursue another female because I want you to spend years at a distance while I torture you dating horrible guys that are worse than you all the time making it clear I don't want to date you and want you to die alone and suffering." That might be an overstatement, but it's also true. Either we want to sleep with you, or we ignore you. Granted, years of experience down the road will give us broader shades of gray and we can be friends in a totally casual with-the-spouse-present way, but that's not until at least 30. Til then, we're totally hoping that a miracle happens and we can get into your pants. Back to the blog.
College was the last of my socially dumb moves, and ended any chance of dating for about two years. My biggest mistake was to volunteer to be the group leader for the Adam vs Eve project in my Biblical Literature class. Following my standing-on-the-cafeteria-table-bellowing-how-Eve-was-at-fault-for-bringing-all-sin-into-the-world phase, I was unanimously banned from all female contact.
I actually moved to from Idaho to Kentucky the next year just to out run the growing awareness of my college outburst. Kentucky was definitely a worthwhile trip, as I got a job in the cafeteria of Northern Kentucky University, and hooked into the Baptist Student Union, which harbored no less than ten eligible and marriage oriented females who liked me.
However, I was completely down the path of Eric and Leslie Ludy, and waiting to date just that one person God had chosen for me. In hindsight, it was probably a good thing, but there's still a part of me that wonders which one of those women would have said "yes" if I had dated and proposed to her. All of them, save two, are now married to other guys.
I eventually moved back to Washington, still unable to move beyond a 1st date. I decided not to risk my heart anymore, and pulled it off the table for dating. I did everything I could to be happy with who I was as a person and pursued other interests.
About 3 years ago, I began to ponder on love again, and trying to find a way to date without being hurt. Despite all the experience of rejection (that's sarcasm right there) and the hundreds of hours spent learning about relationships through books, classes, even listening to old ladies give me advice, nothing seemed to work.
I had to face the facts. If I wanted to find someone to date, I had to get my heart hurt. Dating would be a time of loneliness, dashed hopes, and awful memories. But I knew that if I just went through it, I would find that person I would want to marry.
I hadn't had that old list for at least a decade. I didn't really need it anymore because I wanted that person to be a surprise to me. I stopped following the Ludy's books and ways, not that they weren't Biblical, just that I didn't want to wait anymore. I even stopped following the advice of the little old ladies, because I figured out that every relationship is unique. I had only one option now. Get in the trenches, get hurt, get a little bloody, and I'd come out with the best person for me.
Surprisingly, it worked! In less than six months from now, we'll be husband and wife.
It just goes to show you, love can be such a funny little thing.
No comments:
Post a Comment