To the friends who teach us how to love

Sometimes my parents make jokes about my relationship with my best friend, usually of the lesbihonest variety. I laugh with them, because it’s understandable. The way I talk about Sam is often more loving than the way I hear people discuss their significant others. Don’t even get me started on the frequency – I’ve blogged about my deep love for her several times, excluding today, and will probably do many more in the future.

The reason is simple: She is the love of my life. We are just two heterosexuals who found our soulmate in each other, and it’s a beautiful thing. I know that this sounds strange, but if you’ve experienced it, you understand.

Yeah I know we’re the cutest best friends on the planet DEAL WITH IT

I’ve talked at length about how we met, how our relationship grew, why she’s the greatest human, but in honor of Valentine’s Day, I’m going to focus on something else. Sam is the one who taught me what it really means to love another person.

Naturally, I have a family that I’m close with, but that kind of love is different. I was born to love those people. Most of them didn’t give me a reason to doubt their love so mine was inherently returned. To love someone you have no obligation to is another, more challenging issue.

I wish I could remember every detail of how we went from last-minute roommates to the pair we are today. Living with her was a strange experience from day one; when I arrived and she told me she thought someone was going to break in and murder her, but it was only a can of Diet Coke exploding in the fridge (instead of investigating she simply stayed still in bed).

Maybe it was our sheer proximity that caused us to become so close (and the fact that we deliberately created the same class schedules), or maybe it was our recognition of needing each other. Or maybe just the fact that I needed her. She is one of the few people in this world I actually need in my life.

It’s been almost a decade since we first meant, and almost nine years since our first hangout. This is mind-blowing to me. It feels as if we’ve known each other forever because of our closeness, but mentally I still think it’s only been a few years.

Over the years, being her friend allowed me to have a relationship worth fighting for. When I think about what it means to be loved completely, I think of Jesus and Sam. She knows everything about me. There is so much trust between us that I know I can tell her my truly awful thoughts and there will never be judgment. I can tell her my ever changing dreams and she will offer all of her support.

She has shown me what it feels like to be secure in a relationship. I never have to question where I stand with her. If she’s tagged in a photo with another friend, I’m not worried about being replaced.

The example she set taught me how to love. Granted, I’m not nearly as good at it as she is. I’ve learned that being so close to someone is challenging, especially when they can interpret your true motivations. There will be fights and tears and thoughts of is this worth it? But it always is. That’s the best gift she’s given me. I’ve learned that to experience something real and rare, you have to understand that it takes work. As comfortable as we are with each other, it still takes work. Her refusal to give up or let our relationship stay the same taught me how to love.

Sometimes we date people and they teach us what it means to be with someone else, but sometimes the best relationships we learn from are our friends, the ones who never leave. The ones who enter our lives right on time and become so important you can’t imagine a time without them. The ones who see us at our worst and best and love us at every single stage in between. Unconditional love is a powerful gift.

I think sometimes we can forget that this is what love should feel like, and compromise that pureness for something broken. Perhaps we are desperately trying to find a best friend and attempt to fit people into molds where they don’t belong. Sometimes we meet someone and it feels so good to be dating that we let it slide when their love feels forced, or maybe even conditional.

As humans, I don’t believe we deserve anything in life, but I do know we need to remember what real love feels like, and get rid of anyone who makes that feeling a little more broken. Love may break your heart, but it shouldn’t before you’ve even started.

Waiting for something is challenging, believe me I know, but remember what you do have. The people who love you and our God who loves you so much He created you just as you are. Don’t compromise for what you know isn’t right.

Personally, I’ve wanted some big, romantic relationship. I’ve hoped every guy I’ve met would turn into this dreamboat, but so far I’m still here and single. Maybe someday I’ll get it, maybe I won’t. Or maybe God only has one epic love story for me, and if that’s my Sam, I can’t imagine anything better.

Fighting for something real

Up until recently, I had a regular pattern I followed in dating: meeting someone > being cautiously excited > losing my dang mind with feelings > it ultimately not working > trying to orchestrate any possible scenario to make it work > losing my dang mind with feelings > moving on > backsliding > meeting someone.

I met good guys and ones you can just smell the bad on, but it never made a difference. Even if it seemed like a good thing, it never worked out. I’ve told God countless times that I was ready, now was the time. I could practically feel the excitement as I waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually someone would come along and I’d start my cycle again.

There are a million reasons I never tried to break the cycle, but the biggest one was moving on for real would mean that option would be gone and I’d be left with nothing. Give me ill treatment, but please don’t leave me without prospects.

I needed to hold onto these small teddy bears because it was something to hold onto. Because I have yet to see His plan play out, I don’t fully trust God with what’s next. Instead of believing in His big plans, I cling to what feels good now.

At 27, it’s actually not hard to understand why I feel like I need something tangible to put my hope in. While the average age for woman to get married in America is 27, there’s so much societal pressure, especially in the church to accomplish this sooner. And yes, accomplish, as if it’s another point you can use on your spiritual resume to sell yourself. Most of the people who attended the same Christian college as me are married, and I haven’t had a real boyfriend since I was 18. Needing something makes sense.

The idea of someone is better than the reality of having no one.

But these ideas only hurt me. They consume me. They distract me. Even worse, they show these guys I’m here whenever they might want me again and I’m way too eager to let things go and try again. Although let’s be real, ‘try again’ is usually just some texts that give me hope and then he’s gone again. But I’m always ready to reply, ready to charm, ready to be wanted.

Occasionally I justified this behavior. I’m just having fun, right? It doesn’t mean anything. I’m young and want to enjoy myself. I’m not doing anything that bad, comparatively speaking. That’s what the world told me, and I listened.

Except it did mean something. It always means something.

Even now I try to act all breezy and cool, but I want a husband (even typing that makes me feel as if I’m betraying some ancient decree that a woman should never appear too desperate). I’m not looking for a four-year boyfriend. I’m in my late-20s. I know what I want. I want a man who loves God and is going to lead our home and be my partner. I’m not trying to rush into kids or anything, but at this stage I’m not looking to date a few people. I want something passionate and magical and hard and challenging and real.

And yet it only recently occurred to me I wasn’t fighting what I wanted.

Our message series at church for January was ‘Fight For It,’ and it’s also the driving theme for our year. It was really inspiring and I took notes about how I was going to fight for my own victories, but never once considered fighting for my romantic life.

Then we talked about fighting for your family, and slowly it all began to click.

Nehemiah 4 discusses the dangers of rebuilding the temple and how they had to be ready to fight. He tells the people “Don’ be afraid of the enemy! Remember the Lord, who is great and glorious, and fight for your brothers, your sons, your daughters, your wives, and your homes!” (4:14).

While God was obviously on their side, Nehemiah didn’t say it like “no big, guys. God will deliver us so be chill.” Even with the promise of God, it was still a battle they had to fight. They had to trust in His delivery, but they were responsible too.

Too often I rely on the delivery, but refuse to do the work. I expect God will give me this great man I’m waiting for solely because I’m checking all the right boxes. Maybe I even thought my dedication to growing my faith was fighting for it, but now I see differently.

I tell God this is what I’m waiting for, but every time an easier option strolls my way, I give in. I give up any fight I had for what feels good now.

Not anymore.

Recently I said no. I won’t give details, but I had the opportunity to satisfy what I wanted now and backslide into old habits, but I didn’t. I walked to my car, closed the door and screamed. Yep, that actually happened. Partially out of excitement, but also partially because I couldn’t believe I had something and let it go. Do I not know who I am?

And then I realized something incredible.

For the first time, I was actually fighting for it. I knew what I wanted and I refused to let a moment deter me. I’m actually ready to wait. I mean sure, I’ve been waiting, but my waiting wasn’t full of trust. There wasn’t a battle to trust God. It was just waiting for something to satisfy me now and telling God I believed His plan.

If I want something different for my life, I need to pursue something different. It’s so simple, and so important. No matter how hard I tried, clinging to guys who didn’t want was never going to give me the story I wanted.

I know myself well enough to realize it won’t always be this easy, and the devil won’t let me go without a fight. There will be bigger temptations I’ll fight on this journey as I wait, but instead of accepting defeat, I know I have another option.

I’m going to remember my God, who is great, and I’m going to fight for something real.

Why actually meeting someone terrifies me

This morning I slept in, checked social media and made myself frozen waffles for breakfast. I read my Bible, finished a book and started a new one. Then I made myself an egg sandwich for lunch and decided to do some writing.

This is my life and schedule. For my entire adult life, everything has been on my terms. I’ve never had to consult with anyone about anything. I simply decide what I want to do and then do that thing.

It’s one of the reasons I’m actually terrified to meet someone.

When I’m home alone watching a movie, I think it would be nice to have a snuggle buddy. Or when it’s snowing a lot, I wish I had someone to get snowed in with. Some nights I want to go out and be young and have fun with a man I love.

Those are all fleeting, superficial desires that mask the real fears. I’ve been single for so long and I cannot imagine adding another person into my routine.

If I think about it too long, I spiral down to a place where all the fears from a beginning of a relationship (like is it okay to hold hands or kiss in public or do you even want to spend time with me) to the more serious (like what happens if we get married and then have to live together – how do two people get used to living with one another??). When I’ve reached the bottom, and my anxiety tells me there is no solution except singleness, I thank God I’m here. It’s here that I’m like maybe being called to singleness wouldn’t be so bad.

I don’t think God feels the same way, though.

As much as my anxiety wishes it were true, I don’t feel as though this is God’s complete plan for my life (although that could be denial, who knows?).  It’s more my insecurities because I’ve been so single for so long. My last real boyfriend was during my senior year in high school, and it lasted three whole months. It’s also my longest relationship to date, nbd.

When I see the ease at which other people date and show affection, immediately there’s a voice that says I’m behind. Something is wrong with me. It’s so easy for everyone else, why can’t I meet someone? That evil voice is quickly refuted by my anxiety into convincing me being single is a good thing. We can control that. Why bring someone else’s emotions into the mix?

If I meet someone, and invite him in, I’m losing control and letting someone else affect my emotions. My time is no longer my own. I will make sacrifices. After all of that, he may change his mind and leave. The hurt doesn’t always seem like the risk is worth it.

I’ve seen people stay in bad relationships forever, and I’ve seen people settle for what they thought would be the best. I’ve seen the best relationships crumble in a moment, and I’ve seen even the most solid relationships struggle.

I’ve been told pain is part of letting someone in, and maybe that’s why I’m really so afraid. I pursue situations occasionally and am practically always looking, but how sincere are my efforts? Am I just pretending so it feels like action when deep down I’m too afraid to really start? Have I already made up my mind he’ll leave like everyone else?

One of my biggest character points is being prepared. I am at my best when I feel I have put in the work and I understand what I am getting myself into. A change in variables can send me into a tailspin. With dating, I am so out of my element that the whole process becomes frightening.

Texting guys can be painful. My best friend tells me to just be a human and not be weird, and it’s cute that she thinks I’m capable of either. Usually my banter becomes harmless taunting to mask what I really want to say. Not that I’m not sarcastic by nature, but it’s definitely a bad crutch I use in romantic conversations. I’m too afraid of being honest in what I want.

It’s not like honesty has screwed me over in the past. Typically, it’s probably my lack of honesty. I had a crush on a guy for a couple of years in college and finally, FINALLY, we were hanging out. One night, after he left, he asked me what I thought about what was going on between us. I knew on several occasions he expressed not wanting a girlfriend, and despite wanting to be his girlfriend more than anything else in the world, I panicked. Sam was sleeping and not responding to my texts, and I needed her bravery and advice. Instead, I told him I’m not interested in dating but if I were I’d be interested in him, which sounded okay at the time and he agreed but then nothing ever happened again.

I’m not sorry this didn’t work between us because ultimately I don’t think it would’ve, but it’s just an example of my complete inability to feel secure enough to be honest. People always ask what’s the worst that could happen, and I HATE THAT. The worst that could happen is I face reality and leave this world of maybe and learn how he really feels and I’m alone and embarrassed for even asking.

People who think that’s not too soul crushing to risk clearly don’t live inside my brain.

I have issues, I know, and I’m hoping counseling will help me work through some of them. I want to meet someone and trust that all of my fears will work themselves out, as these things tend to do. Perhaps I need to stop putting the burden of making me feel secure on him, and recognize I need to be secure in myself. If it doesn’t work, it won’t actually wreck me. It will just hurt, but I can’t keep a running list of everyone who’s left me because it makes me lose sight of the people who stayed.

I am not here because of all the guys who hurt me. I am here because I let them and refused to grow. I entered the same cycle over and over again and knew I wouldn’t get good results, but tried anyway.

Sometimes I worry that in writing something like this, someone will read it and think I’m some freak. I’m almost 30 and I’m this afraid of dating? And then the voices tell me because of these fears, no one will want to start anything with me. Who would? My lack of experience is laughable. I’m just faking my way through everything now. I’m insecure. I don’t know how to act or what to say. I wouldn’t be a good girlfriend anyway. I’m too weird and awkward.

I’m all bravado and now I’m showing that to the world. Beneath my confidence, I am afraid of the reality of meeting someone who actually wants to be with me. Because I think all these things about myself, I immediately distrust his interest, and therefore distrust him without reason.

I suppose, at the core, I don’t see why someone would want to be with me, and everything else is just an excuse to keep the possibility of it happening away.

I don’t hate Valentine’s Day

 

As a single person, sometimes I feel like I’m expected to hate Valentine’s Day. Or maybe we all feel like we’re expected to hate it. Think about it – how many people do you know who actually like the holiday? Single people hate the reminder they’re alone. Coupled people complain and say it’s a fake holiday to sell chocolate.

For your consideration, I actually like Valentine’s Day. No, scratch that. I love it.

For as long as I can remember it’s been one of my favorite holidays. I loved decorating the bags with doilies in elementary school and picking out the perfect valentines to give to my friends. I love red and pink and hearts and sparkles, and just the idea that one day a year we all get a little extra love.

Valentine’s Day circa 2016. Clearly I had an obsession with this shirt/sunglass combo before I lost the shirt. RIP shirt

Historically, I can’t find a logical reason why we celebrate. Some quick Wikipedia research revealed that stories say Saint Valentine was recognized for performing marriages for soldiers, but other stories say he was killed for refusing to renounce his Christian faith.

Both stories could conceivably be true, because Valentine’s Day isn’t just the celebration of one saint, but several from early saints called Valentinus. Some speculate the timing was chosen to convert a pagan holiday to one accepted by the church. In the Middle Ages it was believed the birds mated in mid-February, adding to the legend. Romantic, right?

Ultimately it was the 14th century and Geoffrey Chaucer who made Valentine’s Day the symbol of love and devotion we now embrace (or endure) today. Next time you grumble about it being a holiday created by Hallmark to sell cards, remember this:

Valentine’s Day has been a thing for like, 700 years.

While it is technically a day for romantic love (thanks birds from the Middle Ages), I choose to view it as something better. Beyond the cliche heart necklaces that clearly say your boyfriend didn’t know what to get you and waited until the last minute, there’s a beauty to Valentine’s Day, if you choose to see it.

In high school, I started a tradition with one of my best friends. It was in the time before ‘love yourself’ and ‘treat yo self’ became the anthems of a generation, but somehow my friend and I figured it out. Every year, we would go to the movies and eat Taco Bell on Valentine’s Day. Instead of letting the pressure to have a date bother us, we automatically knew we would spend the night with someone we loved. To this day, if I see one of the movies we saw, I smile because of what it represents.

This is a tradition I now carry on alone. Every year, I take myself to the movies. I usually sneak in food (Chinese, mostly) because eating while at the movies is one of my favorite pastimes. There is no drama, no pressure, no worry. Only me enjoying my own company.

For 10 years, I’ve been my own valentine, and I have no regrets.

Beyond self-love, Valentine’s Day presents other opportunities for expressing love. Leslie Knope introduced the world to Galentine’s Day, where we ditch our men and choose to celebrate with each other and breakfast food. Last year, I spent the night with my family and we had a heart-shaped pizza. I see my nieces and truly think that there are no better valentines in the world.

We can’t change the fact that Valentine’s Day is a thing, but we can change our perspective. For Pete’s sake, we take a whole day to be thankful based on lies about how we made ‘peace’ with some Native Americans, but one day about love with over 700 years of history is unfathomable.

We show love every day, but like Thanksgiving, this is a day to be extra aware, and extra loving. To everyone, not just your significant other. Remember the value of loving yourself, and remind yourself of how valuable you are. Hug everyone you know and spread a little love. We have enough anger and resentment without bitterness over a holiday.

I don’t hate Valentine’s Day, and neither should you.