Men say I’m cute and funny and my teeth aren’t teeth but pearls

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I spent this afternoon laying on my bedroom floor, semi-sick, compiling my latest mix tape and text messaging my friend Megan. I’m not 100% sure how her half of this scenario played out, as text messages have that pesky 160 character limit. But the way I envisioned it was with her lying on her living room couch, really sick, listening to a mix tape I recently sent her. (I know she was listening to the tape, and I know her tape player is in her living room… so I’m probably close to right. Megan, care to verify?) I reminded her that mix tapes are one of my love languages.

And though I created this particular tape for myself, that holds true. (After all, I love me! 🙂 )

You should know by now, if you know me at all, that I’m an obsessive list maker. I have lists of the CDs I own, the books I’ve read, children’s names I’ve liked, states I’ve visited, songs to be played at my wedding reception (should I have one of those)… and songs that capture my attitude toward dating. (Okay, I have many more lists than that, but making a list of all my lists is more obsessive than even I dare to be. 😉 ) I’ve been wanting to commit that final list to tape for a while now, though I didn’t intend to blog about it. But Dave’s list of his Valentine’s Day songs was intriguing (though I didn’t recognize most of the tunes), and so I present to you: Songs for My Fragile Heart.

Side A: Songs for the Recovering Bitter
(I know “recovering from bitterness” would have been more grammatically correct, but I wanted it to go with side b, which I named first. I figure if songwriters can get away with using “more easy” instead of “easier” simply to preserve the rhythm of their songs, I too should be afforded creative license.)

Love Song for No One—John Mayer
I think this is the theme song of most singles my age. I don’t care how “unhip” it is to adore songs that everyone loves. In this case, everyone is right.

Take Me for Longing—Alison Krauss + Union Station
The first verse both explains why I am personally opposed to the concept of a “back up” and reminds me of a rumor I heard back in high school. The story was that a boy I had a tremendous crush on considered asking me out, simply because he was tired of being single and he knew I’d say yes. At the time I lamented his decision not to use me as an ego boost. I was convinced that if he would just lend me his attention for a few weeks, I could make him fall in love with me. I was a naïve and wildly optimistic teenager, but in the years since I’ve gained perspective and a better sense of self worth. I will not be anyone’s second choice, thank you very much. I’d much prefer to be single for always.

Spit On A Stranger—Nickel Creek
Please remember who created this mix and what side A has been titled. 🙂 Besides, my favorite lines from this Pavement cover (“Honey I’m a prize and you’re a catch and we’re a perfect match”) fit perfectly with the attitude of my last comment.

Hello Mr. Heartache—Dixie Chicks
The day Mr. Heartache doesn’t show up around the three month mark of one of my relationships is the day I throw a tremendous party. You’ll all be invited.

Love is Different—Caedmon’s Call“I don’t know what I want, but at least I know that much.”

This sentiment has been rattling around in my head all week following this season’s particularly strange finale of The Bachelorette. (I’m becoming somewhat comfortable admitting that I watched this particular bit of ridiculous television all season.)

Jen Schefft received two proposals this finale, and she rejected the second of them on live television. I won’t get into the ins and outs of what went down, but I will say this: I could kind of relate to the girl and that scares me. There was no obvious reason for her to turn down these guys, besides their meeting on a television show. Both guys seemed to expect acceptance to their proposals. Both were shut down.

I am afraid of becoming that girl. (Well, not with reality TV proposals.) I know I’m a picky picky princess. (I think it’s funny!) But am I going to scare off every guy who attempts to gain my affections? My friend Luke theorizes that the “right” guy won’t be deterred by the road blocks I create. I kind of hope he’s right. (I mean, a guy can’t be “the one” if he scares easy, can he? ‘Cause I think of “the one” in terms of “the one I marry,” not as “that elusive singular person in the entire world I could fall in love with.”)

Young—Nickel Creek
I love love the quirky cheekiness of this song. “It’s not like I wanna get married. I never asked you to kiss me. I just odn’t want you to be sorry you didn’t try.” Besides… I am “young with no clue,” and though you know I “don’t need nobody,” I’m not “sure [I’m] that sure about [you.]”

Table for Two—Caedmon’s Call
Because I’m fairly sure Philip would drive to my house and beat my scrawny self if I left this off another mix tape—and rightfully so. Though it’s rarely singleness that keeps me up all night, this is still the song that convinced me to like Caedmon’s, simply because I can relate.

Gonna Make You Love Me More—Ryan Adams
He sing/screams “love is hell.” And well, I’ve never been in love. But it’s fun to say.

Strong Enough—Sheryl Crow
We’re back to that theory of Luke’s I mentioned earlier. If I made an application to date me, this would be the fifth question (after what do you live for? Is your height > 5’3? Weight > 95 pounds? Are you willing to dance?) “Are you strong enough to be my man?”

(Answer those correctly and you can move on to name and birth date.)

Winter’s Ending—Tara Leigh Cobble
If you know my attitude toward boys and you know this song, you need no explanation.

Next Year, Baby—Jamie Cullum
I’ll extol Mr. Cullum’s virtues at a later date. Suffice it to say this song is too, too appropriate. My only New Year’s resolutions for 2005 are:

1. Stop being so mean/bitter/defensive toward men. It’s not (always) their fault. Deal with the real issues.
2. It’s okay to call guy friends to chat. Really.

I have been prayerfully working toward these goals, not for the sake of dating but for the sake of my own health. I don’t care what causes bitterness—it is not okay to cling to it (as much as I sometimes would like to). It even affects my relationship with God. That’s unacceptable.

And y’know, God has really been working on my heart. I made a proclamation last week that shocked those listening: I want a boyfriend.

No, I don’t have anyone in particular in mind. I still don’t know any men in Birmingham (and I’m okay with that, though my next goal should probably be to make some guy friends—and no, not for the sake of dating).

I don’t say this in a discontent, idolizing sort of sense either. I don’t feel like I have to date someone now—I am just open to the possibility, I think. (“No… but there’s the dream of someone else.”)

So, maybe someday it will happen. Or maybe not. I simply don’t want to be an old maid with no one more than her cat for company because I get too busy scaring people away.

Oh, and as for the phone thing—I talked to two guys on the phone the other day! (Well, they both called me… but that’s irrelevant. The point is healthy friendships.)

…coming up next: Songs for the Cautiously Hopeful…

I got years to wait around for you

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Before I graduated, someone told me that job hunting is like dating. I told her I hoped the analogy would break down, because I suck at dating.

Turns out she’s right.

Instead of dropping off with desperation, my standards have gotten higher as I peruse job listings. I would rather be single unemployed er, work at Starbucks than settle for the wrong job. People tell me that I need to chill out, that it’s not for the rest of my life… but I don’t want to settle for something I strongly suspect will leave me miserable.

I overthink the hiring process in the same way I analyze dating. It’s been x amount of time since they called. Surely they’ll call today! I jump whenever the phone rings. I consider carrying the phone in the bathroom so I’ll hear it from the shower. (No I haven’t done that for a boy–but I know women who have.) I check my email obsessively–maybe they’ll show interest that way. It’s very much like having a huge crush on someone who is only vageuly interested in me.

As the days continue to pass, I quit making excuses for them. It must be me. I’m the problem. Were my ideas not engaging? Maybe I came across as an airhead. What if it’s my age? It can’t be my age! I didn’t tell them my age!

Even as I obsess about every possibility (rereading my submissions and wondering if they googled me and found something they didn’t like), I remind myself that there’s nothing wrong with me. I can write, I can edit, I am capable. (I’m good enough, I’m smart enough and goshdarnit, people like me!) Maybe they have chosen to hire someone else, but that doesn’t change who I am.

Much like when a really great guy passes through my life, the standards have been raised. I’ve seen what’s out there. I now know it’s possible to find a position where I seem to fit, a position that evokes more than a lukewarm, “yeah, I can do that” response. It’s not worth settling for a marketing job or a loosely journalism related position that pays pennies. I might have to serve lattes to make it in the meantime… but I can do that.

But you know, when they notify you that they’ve hired someone else… it’s a lot like being dumped. This application process lasted almost as long as most of my relationships, and the ending isn’t all that different.

Cheer up sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I tend to write more when my emotions are raging. I’m not sure the nature of the emotions really matter—happy-go-lucky, bitter, angry, depressed, romantic, playful—they all find me with a pen in hand.

I strive to find music appropriate to whatever mood reigns, and the perfect song just filled my bedroom. I don’t have a love I’m hiding from friends and family (I’m not very good at keeping that sort of thing a secret), but “Love Soon” (John Mayer) fits the tone of this moment. Upbeat and romantic, the lyrics and cheerful guitar support the dance my feet have been taking.

I don’t know why this daydreamy feeling has seized my days, but it’s fun. Or well, I guess I do know… but it’s nothing exciting. Cold, wintry days, guitar-driven acoustic pop, a westerny quilt, a cup of delicious coffee and a pinch of girlish optimism are the language of my romance. If Mr. Right were to come a-knockin’ this week, it wouldn’t take much persuasion to win my heart.

Or maybe it’s just the pink “amore” coffee mug. Who knows!

Maybe you’re the dream I’m waking from

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28, New International Version)

One of the most amazing mysteries of my faith (besides the idea that God could become human and atone for all of my misdeeds) is encapsulated in that verse. I’ve marveled not only at God’s mercy but also his might since my first steps as a baby Christian. Both before and since setting out on this journey I’ve done things in knowing disobedience of God’s will. But even those blatantly rebellious acts have been worked to my best. Unreal… and yet so true.

I remember sitting through a lot of “girl talks” in those early days. In one such session, girls discussed how far was too far in a “Christian relationship.” I knew my newfound faith would challenge me to approach relationships differently, but I didn’t know the bounds.

I did know that, wherever that elusive line of physicality had been drawn, I had ventured far past it. I secretly hoped that, when I found the man with whom I’d spend my life, he too would have a “checkered past” and therefore would find my missteps easier to swallow.

Then I changed my mind—instead I longed for a man whose Christian upbringing would provide me with a family of faith unlike my own. The hurts I saw in my own family life would be healed in my interactions with his. Meanwhile, he would shine brightly before those I love in a way I was afraid I could not.

You could call me naïve.

My desires have long since abandoned both extremes. Now I merely desire a man who will strive to push my gaze heavenward. Whether he be a redeemed “heathen” or a genteel sort who has long embraced the umbrella of God’s grace doesn’t matter.

That’s the beauty of regeneration. Perhaps the man I will marry (if I marry) has made as many or even more physical mistakes than I. Perhaps he is as pristine as the day is long. It truly doesn’t matter if he falls to either extreme or lands squarely in the middle.

What matters is that Jesus has made him clean, as He has me. I’m not proud of what past I have, but I don’t view myself as damaged goods. Christ’s grace covers those and every mistake.

And He used them to bring me to Him. It’s strange, but He is a beautiful mystery.

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I’m a sucker for The Bachelor and The Bachelorette—I’ll admit it. I don’t obsess over the shows, but I have been watching them since the initial season with Alex as The Bachelor. (He was a scum bucket, in case you missed it.) Years later, I find myself in front of the TV, eating up every minute of the two hour season premiere of The Bachelorette.

No, it’s not exactly something to brag about.

So I’ve been watching the series on and off (as my schedule has permitted) since the first season, but it wasn’t until tonight that I understood why. As I watched a bevy of attractive men flood a New York City apartment, it all clicked: I like the show because it’s like a fairy tale.

Okay, a modern day fairy tale, but a fairy tale just the same. Twenty five men—25 men!—attempt to sweep this woman off her feet. While they turn on the charm, she parades around the fancy apartments and the most exciting city on earth dressed like a model. (Does she have a make up person? I want a make up person!) Everything she does is like magic. Dates take place in Central Park, at fancy restaurants, in the most idyllic locales you can imagine.

I know it’s not real life. I know that, even if ABC would consider a conservative Christian girl prone to break outs, I would not really go on such a show. But for an hour or two each week, it’s fun to pretend…

Protected: Nothing’s gonna change my world

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I think I had an epiphany last night. The thing is… I don’t think engineers are right for me. Take Charlie, my favorite of the bunch, and compare him to Josh or Aaron (to name just a few non-engineer friends). The conversation flows so much more comfortably with either of those guys than it does with my favorite engineer. And of those guys–one I’ve not hung out with in over a year and one I’ve never met. Charlie, on the other hand, is someone I saw daily for two and a half months. I adore him… but I still feel I have to perform just a little. (This is true of all my engineers, to some extent. One of them once told me that my talkative nature was probably part of why engineers surround me… I make it easier on them.) Our conversations are sometimes more me than we.

That’s not a critique of Charlie. I’d be fortunate to be with such a guy. I just don’t think he (or probably any of that “type”) is so right for me after all.

Funny how it took seven months (and how many engineers?!) to figure that out.

[EDIT: After discussing this entry with Megan, I have to add… Charlie is not a typical engineer, he’s way more talkative. But he’s still not as obnoxious as a communication kid… it’s like you have to put a muzzle on us to shut us up. Though he’s more chatty, I still have the performing complex. Anyway. The point isn’t Charlie, the point is CJ does not need engineers.]

Loving is fine if you have plenty of time for walking on stilts at the edge of your mind

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

My friend Luke once said I have the weirdest interactions with men of any girl he knows. If that’s not because I attract drama, I must create it. I know I’m supposed to be a journalist, but I occasionally wonder if I should have pursued a more diva-fied occupation. (Or maybe I should just work at a women’s mag. Same thing, right?)

In any case, I suppose these dramatic tendencies account for the series of romance-oriented rants I’m about to unleash on you. There’s no other good reason! I’m not interested in anyone, there’s no boy drama in my life and I’m certainly not dating anyone.

But then, I guess that last reason is part of the force fueling this tirade. Somehow a conversation between my friend Patrick and I moved from movies to dating (a far less innocuous topic, particularly when my big mouth is involved!). He seemed a bit surprised when I mentioned I haven’t been on a proper date since 1999. (In fact, when I saw it typed across my screen, I was a bit taken back. That is an awfully long time.) I told him I have my reasons, not the least of which is an exorbitant level of picky-ness. He suggested that perhaps I should cool it a bit.

To some degree, I agree. I can be entirely too uptight for my own good. But there are some things worth these ridiculously high standards.

Which leads me—where else!—back to my favorite beef. What is the deal with Christian men?

I refuse to even consider dating anyone who doesn’t love Jesus more than he could dream of loving me. Though I don’t always alighn my actions with my faith (I sin too!), I do believe said faith should be the central driving force of my life. I want to be with someone who can both understand and encourage that. It is at least one point on which I refuse to compromise.

(Another such characteristic is a willingness to dance. But that’s just an aside. :))

Meanwhile, the vast majority of Christian men I have known are not willing to step up to the plate (at least, not for me, which is what matters when I’m raving about my lack of dating life :)). I’ve had plenty of friendships with otherwise amazing men who wasted my time with meaningless flirtation. I’ve been led on at least one time too many, and I’m left behind chanting “boys are overrated.”

Yeah. I’m not so much for a healthy mindset, I guess.

The thing I’ve realized is that I’m just as bad. I’m a wonderful tease. I employ the mind games so many claim to hate, even in most of my friendships. I should work at removing the plank from my own eye before bitching about the specks in the eyes of my brothers. (I would apologize for the profanity, but is it not appropriate here? Drop the niceties—bitching is what I’m doing.)

I know I should deal with the real issues—with the bitterness I struggle to release but then reclaim as my own. But y’know, I don’t feel like it. (And I know that’s not okay.) Sometimes I like wearing this “I don’t need a man” attitude like a badge, though it is more honestly something of a faulty shield. Sometimes I embrace the insanity I portray (and I realize I sound like nothing less than a crazy in these words). Sometimes I think I would rather give up and go for the not-quite-Jesus freaks—the only men who are actually willing to pursue this idiosyncratic woman I’ve exposed.

Then I realize, they still don’t boast the single most attractive quality I’ve found in a man—a heart willing to pursue Christ recklessly.

And when I allow anger and bitterness to control me… neither do I.

Faith can answer Thy demands by pleading what my Lord has done

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Yes, and I must, I will esteem
All things but loss for Jesus’ sake
Oh my soul be found in Him
And of His righteousness partake

I don’t cry a lot over other people’s relationships. In fact, I think I’ve only cried over two relationships besides my own (with the exception of weddings, of course–those don’t count). But on my way home tonight, I was definitely tearing up.

It’s a humbling thing to observe love between a man and a woman. I like to think it doesn’t really exist, though I know that’s not true. (I think the root of that is more in believing lies about myself than anything–but that’s an entirely different blog entry. Every once in a while, things aren’t about me.) It does me good to see that real men do exist, and though they sometimes make mistakes, there are men who are pursuing godliness.

I can’t tell you how much respect I have for that.

Brothers and sisters unite, it’s the time of your lives

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

“Who is this guy?” she inquired. “I’ve never heard you talk about him before.”

I paused for a moment, silently running through a list of men my friend and former college roommate would recognize. These days, I rarely mention those guys in conversation, and I speak to them even less.

No, you wouldn’t have heard of him, I thought. Boys don’t stay in my life long enough to register on the radar of far-away friends.

I won’t say that’s good or bad – in different instances, it’s probably some of both. But I’ve never retained terribly long-lasting friendships with guys.

Maybe that’s because I grew up surrounded by girls. (My daddy was the only man in our family of five until the sixth member arrived in 1992.) The boys in my middle and high school classes teased me for any reason they could find. My clothes were all wrong (true), my hair was out of control (also true) or my body wasn’t up to their standards for 14-year-old girls. (Why on earth are you commenting on a little girl’s figure?!)

Whatever the cause, my guy friends never stayed around too long. I didn’t mind until my second year of college. I was left bitter by the disappearing act a pair of guys pulled after one of them got a girlfriend (who is now his wife). I expected our friendships to change; we’d probably spent too much time together anyway. I didn’t anticipate their near-complete vanishing. In hindsight, I realize there was more involved than the girlfriend’s arrival. But at the time, I took it very personally.

Part of the problem – in both that and other situations – may have been the ladder theory in effect. (Don’t click that link if you’re easily offended. The social observations are interesting, but they’re shrouded in potentially offensive language and descriptions.) Essentially, that theory is constructed on the When Harry Met Sally idea that men and women can’t be friends. On one or both sides, attraction gets in the way.

I don’t know if I buy into that 100%. I know some guys who I’ve never been interested in, and I’m fairly certain they haven’t thought of me like that either. But I do find friendships with guys difficult to maintain for that reason. I don’t call them (except with rare exceptions) for fear they’ll think I’m after them. I try to squelch my flirtatious impulses (whether or not I’m truly interested in the boy) because I don’t want to be seen as chasing after him. (Pursue me!) I get nervous spending one-on-one time with them, even when we’re just friends.

That was the case this weekend as I went to catch up with a new-ish male friend. If he were a girl, I wouldn’t have given a second thought to calling him up while I was in his town. Because he is a he, I was jittery and prepared for awkwardness as I crept down a traffic-clogged interstate.

As we lunched at a nearby restaurant, I slowly admitted that my nerves were silly. The truths that he’s a guy and we hadn’t hung out in almost two months didn’t call for the self-centered babbling my awkwardness always provokes.

(I write all this knowing full well he’ll probably read it. That’s okay. It’s like a long-distance, slightly more comfortable exercise in being quasi-normal with the men in my life. Or something.)

Just because we’re different doesn’t mean girls have an exclusive run on worthwhile friendships. (I know some ladies would argue just the opposite!) But as I processed through these and other thoughts about friendship this weekend, I realized just how delicately any man who ever hopes to date me will have to approach me.

Ooh, here comes that self-centered babble again. 😉

Seriously – if I’m this hyper-weird with guy friends, how much more so do you think that applies to dating? It takes a lot of time and patience for a guy to get to know me. Alisa once explained it well to someone: “CJ lets you see what she wants you to see.”

That’s nothing to brag about, but it’s true. I think I’ve been making a bit of progress. At the beginning of the summer, I resolved to act myself. By the time I hung out with my friend Rob in his home state of Virginia, I discovered that he didn’t even know how inept (and often bitter) I feel around boys – and he is one! (I took that as evidence of God making some headway in my life.)

This confessional may even be evidence of such progress. I can put up a strong, devil-may-care front, but that confidence is sometimes (often?) masking insecurity.

I love having men in my life. Their perspective is different than mine – sometimes drastically so. Their interactions with me and others remind me that Jesus died for them, too. 🙂 I don’t know how long these particular guys will remain my friends. Whether it’s for months or for years, I can’t let that affect my opinion of their character or my own self-worth. That remains true whether applied to a fellow on my “friends” ladder or someone on my “dating” ladder.

I just need a reminder sometimes, that’s all.