About a year ago, I talked with an older woman from my church. An older single woman. She is someone one of the priests had identified to me as someone who had never married and who I ought to relate to. Apparently, she'd joined a convent when she was younger, and left the order.
When we finally had a conversation, I realized that she seemed to carry a certain bitterness which she tries to cover with personal platitudes. She told me that's she's glad she never married because she didn't want to be, "... as miserable as everyone else." I don't believe it for a minute. I think she has convinced herself that the marriages around her are miserable because it makes her happier. Sure, some folks are miserable in their marriages, but I wouldn't lump them all in that category.
I tried to share with her how hard it is for me to be alone, and to mourn the fact that I probably will be for the rest of my life. She very sincerely told me, "It gets easier."
Well, that just ticked me off. No way can it get easier to be alone. The past 22 years have pretty much sucked for me in that regard. Another 22 years of the same sounds awful. It made me even more determined to find the man who would be my husband. He just HAS to be out there.
(don't get me wrong. I have been happy and fulfilled... but being alone sucks. there's no getting around that.)
As you know from my last post, I met 18 single Catholic men last weekend. Whoopie.
It's hard to know if the men were really that unappealing or if I am just so jaded that I wasn't going to accept any of them.
I went out with a guy a few weeks ago, and had a really nice time. We both did. We couldn't go out again for two weeks because I went out of town. When I returned, he called to try to lock me in for a date. The following weekend was already booked for both of us, and when I offered him either Tuesday or Wednesday he eagerly offered, "Both?" We settled on Tuesday, looking forward to it. We only committed to the day, we didn't decide anything firm.
By Monday afternoon, he still hadn't confirmed solid plans so when I responded to his prior text, I asked if he had a good weekend and if we were still on for Tuesday. In his very positive, high energy way he texted back, "Yes! Still on for Tuesday!", but by the time I left work on Tuesday I still didn't have a time or a place for our date - much less word from him. It didn't look good.
I waited until 6:00, put on my running shoes and headed to the park for a run. I heard a few pings come through behind the training app on my phone and decided to check for messages after my run. They weren't from him. I still haven't heard from him. What. The. &$%@#?!
So now, I can't even get a second date with a guy who asked for two dates!!
I'm not interested in any of the men available to me.
For years, I've laughed at people who told me to quit looking. I can't quit looking. It's too important. I want it too much. How can I stop hoping and wishing and praying? How am I supposed to ignore the desires of my heart, put there by God Himself?
This is how. It's realizing that I'm just spinning my wheels. There is no forward movement. No progress being made.
I quit. I'm not looking any more. I'm not trying. It shouldn't be this hard anyway.
I've already grieved the loss of my fertility. That I will likely never experience pregnancy and childbirth - the experiences which make up the crescendo of womanhood. I did that last year with the company of my friend who suffered a devastating miscarriage. We were blessed to share our grief with one another and support each other through it.
Now, I believe I've grieved the fact that love will never happen the way I expected.
If I trip over the guy, maybe I'll go out with him - but I'm not trying anymore. I'll date, sure. But I'm not going to be as invested in it. Instead, I'm going to get back in shape, save my money and start planning that trip to Italy.
And I'll do my best to not become bitter.
Wish me luck.
(oh, and please be decent in the comments. This IS my heart I'm laying out here. Have your opinions, sure - but don't come in my house and spit on my floor.)