Upon further reflection, as usual

Quite possibly one of the most awkward, but refreshing, dates I have been on in a while (OK, I don't date a lot [read: at all] so let's call it ever, just to be fair).

I met up with an acquaintance I'd met at a friend of a friend's birthday party in Lima last week. Our first encounter was him trying to teach me how to dance and saying that I needed to move my hips more.

Except, he didn't know what the word was and even though I told him, he kept pronouncing it "tips."

So, Miguel spends the evening telling me I needed to move my "tips" more for Latin dancing and I tried my best to comply, but mostly I just stared at his feet and tried to match his steps.

Later on, he pulled me over in front of his friend with a camera, so thankfully the whole disaster was documented for posterity:

Nice shoes, hombre.

Before I left, he called me over by gesturing with his hands in a way that usually means, "Shoo! Go away!" But, he kept saying, "Come, come!" So I walked over to see that his friend has already uploaded the pictures to his laptop and Miguel wanted to show me because he was "so happy that I have pictures of you now!"

Yikes.

Despite my better judgement, I told him my actual name so he could find me on facebook and, lo and behold, I had a friend request from the guy who kept telling me I needed to move my "tips" more and was so happy to have pictures of me.

I met up with him for coffee (in broad daylight and after telling Ursula a million times where I was going and exactly when I would be back) and it turns out most of the phrases from our facebook messages that I took to be awkward were so mainly because of the language barrier.

We got to talking and he asked me whether or not I had a boyfriend. When I told him no, he asked why not, which I took to be a cheesy pick-up line, so I laughed at him.

But, he insisted that he honestly wanted to know why not.

I resisted every urge to roll my eyes and appear as the superior sex and then began my well-worn (but slightly politer, for purposes of international relations) tirade against single men in general, but found that the more I tried to explain their issues, I was faced with a blatant avoidance of my problems.

I tried to explain how men just don't know what they want and never take the initiative in relationships. Fair enough, but do I even know exactly what I want? And when have I ever gone out of my way to actually invest in a relationship (to an appropriate extent, of course) with a man for interests other than romance?

At one moment, he asked me point blank to tell him something about myself and I just came up with nothing and changed the subject. Sure, that could be chalked up to prudence, but, more likely was a result of fear. (Perhaps this point will require a separate post later).

Then, I went on to realize that even now, when someone was asking me to tell him about myself, I was avoiding talking about, duh, myself. I realized that even though I want to be known, I have a very hard time letting anyone in for fear of you name it (rejection, judgement, misunderstanding, pain, all around awkwardness in general) to the point that I will only let anyone in once they have proven they are absolutely-without-a-doubt-totally-100%-trustworthy to me.

So, Miguel, to answer your question honestly, I am not seeing anyone somewhat because of outside circumstances (travel for work, just haven't met the right guy), but mostly because I have operated from a position of mistrust of others for most of my life and am still trying to break out of it (and probably always will be).

Furthermore, I have an extremely difficult time being vulnerable (I should probably note that "vulnerable" for phlegmatic melancholic introverts like me is probably the same thing as daily interactions for extroverts ... or so I imagine) with anyone save a few close friends and family members (and now apparently anyone reading this blog ... double yikes) which makes it, in turn, difficult for others to open up to me in a way that goes beyond surface level.

So, thanks for the cup of coffee and self-revelation.

All the single ladies

Ok, ok. I know I said I'd be better about keeping current with this blog (wait, I didn't say that? Well, I thought it and that's basically the same thing to me -- just ask anyone who tries to text me). Anywho, I'm using the excuse that I just moved into a new house (read: duplex with a massive basement and even massiver garage) and have not set up internet yet.

However, I do have a few thoughts that I believe are worthy of your perusal.

I am not ok with being single.

There, I said it. Now, before you go rolling your eyes and thinking that I'm trying to turn this blog into a listing for CatholicMatch.com, let me explain.

Singlehood is not my vocation. Yes yes, I know that there are beautiful consecrated virgins, but I'm talking about this whole phase of perpetual adolescence that our generation seems to be obsessed with, well, perpetuating.

This revelation was brought on by a conversation with a friend of mine who mentioned that she had a friend who made a similar statement and I realized, hey, me too!

Don't get me wrong. I love getting to stay up drinking and talking with friends, being able to make last minute plans without having to consult anyone, spending my money on clothes I don't really need, going to the gym whenever I feel like it and not having to check with anyone when my boss asks me if I want to go to India.

But, I wonder, is this helping me become a better version of my self?

Maybe a physically stronger fitter, more stylish, better-traveled and more worldly version, yes. But a more selfless, patient, loyal, compassionate, humble, loving and nurturing version? Meh, not so much.

Enter, Marriage: otherwise known as the Gauntlet of Self-Sacrifice or the Marathon of Humility and Patience. Every single day is a challenge to die to yourself in ways you never even thought possible.

Now, I realize that I can also be more aware of the sacrifices God is calling me to make already. Don't cuss out that driver for cutting you off, try to be more pleasant and courteous to co-workers, accept humiliation and misjudging happily, etc. But, dang girl, there ain't nothing like hanging out with my little nephews for a few hours to give me a dose of the kind of holy stamina that is required to be a mother and wife.

Does this mean that I am going to go off on a Husband Hunt and will fling myself at the first male I see with a Miraculous medal hanging around his neck?

No. (But I might walk by a couple times to check if he has a wedding ring on, at least.)

What it does mean is that we single folks need to remember that this stage of arrested development is not our vocation. You don't see men who know they are called to be priests just hang around churches hoping they'll somehow miraculously be turned into a priest. Women who are called to be sisters or nuns don't just hang around convents until a habit mysteriously appears on their heads.

They study, prepare, and pray to transform their lives to be made ready for their calling of a life of devotion to the Church.

I don't know exactly what this kind of preparation would look like for a single person, but marriage prep is not confined to the engagement period or even in dating.

Everyday we can choose to become more like the spouse we'd like to one day marry instead of just accepting singlehood as our destined lot in life.

I'm going to be honest folks, I have no prospects, but instead of going all Charlotte Lucas on a dude, I can have hope that the right man will come along eventually if we're both seeking God's will.

 And in the meantime, we can try and be even cooler people for the one we've yet to meet.

Sometimes I just go with the flow

I didn't want to admit this, but I feel I must. I am passive.

Very passive.

Pretty much up until just a few months ago, my whole life was just planned out and I followed it accordingly.

 Go to grade school, pass grade school. Go to middle school, survive middle school. Go to high school, graduate high school. Go to college, pay for college, graduate college. 

This kind of routine and monotony can be very, very comforting to a phlegmatic melancholic like myself.

However, at the same time, it can be unimaginably debilitating when faced with things like, oh I don't know, life. Imagine living life as someone else tells you until they stop telling you what you need to do. Then what?

Then you live on your parents fold-out couch for 3 (ok, more like 5-- fine, it was actually 6 if you include Christmas, but who would move during Christmas anyway?) months after graduation while working at the same job you've had since your freshman year of college. Then you have a series of emotional breakdowns (about once a month, then becoming more frequent until you move out) because you feel like a failure at life but are at the same time terrified about living on your own and falling flat on your face.

Or at least that's how it was for me.

Then, thankfully, God reassures you of his plan for your welfare by dropping a job that you love in your lap via your sainted brother-in-law.

Wait, you might argue, this job just fell in your lap? How does that help you try to be more assertive with life?

Well, that's what I thought at first too. Then I realized that I just needed to swallow my pride and thank the good Lord for his divine intervention in my life. Yes, I had to admit, I need help in my life and I am not always in control.

And that is a good thing because if I was, I'd probably still be on Mom and Dad's couch.