There’s a reason for the season
Like two bitter strangers
Though I joke that my bachelor of science in communication truly was a degree in B.S., I learned a few interesting tidbits. My favorites came from interpersonal communication – which, coincidentally, was my emphasis area.
For example, did you know that most people tend to find themselves attracted to and date people of about the same level of attractiveness? I wish I had taken note of the exact statistics and the source, because I find that intriguing. It makes sense, though: I rarely go for guys who I feel are a great deal more attractive than I. They intimidate me. It may be even easier to understand that I am seldom attracted to guys who are not as good looking as me. (Yes, that sounds stuck up, but let’s be honest! If you’re not attracted to a person at all, are you really going to date them? That statement indicates nothing about my opinion of my own appearance, thankyouverymuch!)
After learning that, I started to pay closer attention to couples. Most of them look like a matched set in some way. For some, the extent to which they look alike can be scary – it’s almost like they’re related! But even when it’s not that obvious, some people just look like they’re meant to be together.
I relayed these bits of information to my roommate the other night. I sort of joke to myself that you should be able to determine if someone is your mate by whether or not you make a matched set, but I’m fully aware that isn’t reality. I was reflecting on this tonight as I observed an engaged couple who defies this rule. That’s not a reflection of their relationship; I hardly know them. They simply don’t strike me as a matched set.
My point? Well, I’m not sure if I have one. I guess it’s not as easy as walking up to someone on the street and telling them that you’d look fantastic together. 😉 But I do wonder – when (if) I get married, will I find look at us together and laugh at how obvious it should’ve been from the start?
See Anna & Jeff? They make sense together!
The night wants to kiss you deep And be on his way
Tonight I’m in the mood to have a boyfriend.
I don’t know what brought that on, but as it’s become a fairly rare wish, I thought it worthy of mention. I’m not sure when I became so anti-swoony in my attitude toward men. I wasn’t always this way, and I’m afraid it will take nothing more than “Mr. Right” to snap me out of it.
I received my share of condolences this weekend as I attended yet another wedding as a single woman. The funny thing is that I didn’t want anyone’s pity. I don’t pity myself! I’m 22, reasonably attractive and content with my place in life. (Okay, I’m not content with the student loans, but besides that…) I don’t want to be married right now.
Okay, so that’s due at least in part to the lack of interesting, available men around me. I’ve decided that I won’t do much dating in Tuscaloosa. In my year here, I’ve met one man with potential and that didn’t happen.
Sure, there’s plenty of other reasons, most of them logical in nature. But you know what I realized? I don’t want to be identified as “so-and-so’s girlfriend” or “so-and-so’s wife.” I’m CJ, I’m my own person, and I like it that way, thankyouverymuch.
I know, I know. I shouldn’t be caught up in other people’s opinions of me. I can’t let others define my identity. But I’ll be frank here. I know I tend to label some of my friends’ significant others as nothing more than that. We’re getting to the point where we’re far enough separated that I don’t really know the husbands and boyfriends of even my closest girl friends. The stories I’m told and my brief interactions with them help to flesh out the storyline, but in my mind they’re still supporting characters.
More than anything, I don’t want to identify myself as “so-and-so’s girlfriend.” Second to Christ, my opinion about myself is the one that matters most. I never want to find my identity wrapped up in another human being. It should come first from Jesus and second from my personality and interests, I think.
These are probably good realizations to have when I’m (momentarily, temporarily ;)) wishing for a man in my life. I told a friend the other day that I think I’m becoming more self aware… and part of that awareness is realizing potential and current weaknesses. Step two is relying on Christ for strength and change. Even as this fleeting desire begins to pass, I’ve got to keep my eyes turned heavenward.
And there’s a rare bit of public spiritual reflection for you.
I had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffee
The hoops betrayed me last weekend.
Apparently they have a mind of their own. I wasn’t in a flirtatious mood when I went out last Friday night, but I wore them anyway. I was in the mood to look my best, and a pair of dangly earrings was in order.
But what were the only appropriate earrings I could find? You got it: my biggest pair of silver mood indicators. It seems the earrings put out the vibe whether I do or not!
There’s a boy who has set his sights on me, and the best explanation I can offer is to blame it on the jewelry. So you know what I did?
I went shopping two days later and purchased six pairs of dangly, non-vibe inclined earrings.
Ladies and gentlemen (and here, I’m mostly just concerned with the gentlemen): the plot thickens. I’ll report how the non-hoops work out for me.
Your love life’s D.O.A.
In a fit of frustration last week, I made an announcement to several of my guy friends.
“Men are dumb. I’m going to marry Chandler Bing.”
Most of the guys quickly reminded me that Chandler Bing is fictional, but one of these friends took a different approach.
“Yes we are, and Chandler Bing is no exception.”
So maybe Chandler is too old for me and we would be “unequally yoked,” but he does represent an appealling “type” of man. Chandler cracks me up – I love his dry, sarcastic sense of humor. He’s manly, and as the show progressed, he learned how to dress better. (The early seasons with those sweater vests kill me. Yuck yuck yuck!) But in contrast to all of his sardonic ways, he adores Monica. He loves her despite her annoying idiosyncrasies.
“I’m sorry. You’re not easy-going, but you’re passionate, and that’s good. And when you get upset about the little things, I think that I’m pretty good about making you feel better about that. And that’s good too. So, they can say that you’re high maintenance, but it’s okay, because I like … maintaining you.”
Though he’s the “cast clown,” he also has really sweet moments. I’m going to miss my imaginary (non-Jesus-loving, too-old-for-me) Friend. Where will my generation turn for mindless (but oddly insightful) definition?
“The main problem with mass media is that it makes it impossible to fall in love with any acumen of normalcy. There is no ‘normal,’ because everybody is being twisted by the same sources simultaneously. You can’t compare your relationship with the playful couple who lives next door, because they’re probably modeling themselves after Chandler Bing and Monica Geller.” –Chuck Klosterman
But that’s the broken place that’s where you are
Well, I was never less than perfectly happy without you
And I was never more inclined to stay on my own
But I guess the best surprises come when you’re not looking
‘Cause I was dying, but I never would have known
I know I’ve been quoting Tara Leigh Cobble (and in this case, Oliver Lollis) quite a bit lately, both in my blog and my away messages. There simply aren’t enough artists who sing about these screwed up relationship things from a Christian perspective!
Not that I’m in a relationship, mind you. I’m no where close! But I go through these cycles where I think about guys a lot, and right now I’m at the peak of another.
See, there’s a problem with this house that I’ve constructed
Fashioned carefully from all the strongest stones
‘Cause I see cracks in the walls I’ve never noticed
Ignore the crumbling as I try to live alone
This could be the theme song of my love life, only without anyone on the receiving end. I don’t know when I got so skeptical about men (though those of you who know the ex-boyfriend should know that it was long before he entered the scene). But sure enough, this is where I am.
You know what? I kind of like my “anti-swoony” attitude. I used to be the girl who daydreamed about marriage on a daily basis. I doodled my (future) kids’ names in the margins of my notebooks when I should have been paying attention to my Old Testament professor. (Sarah Grace and Caleb Joshua are my favorites, in case you were wondering. Joshua is the best name ever.) My closest friends and I would make bets on which of us would be the first down the aisle, and I often had the most votes.
And I said, “love is such a weakness, and it’s better not to fall,”
And I’ll admit, it’s satisfying to pretend that I am strong
You know, no one has accused me of not trying to know it all
But I’m finding that I’ve never been so wrong
For everyone but you
That girl disappeared somewhere along the line. I don’t know what (or who?) caused that, except perhaps a healthy dose of reality. Instead of daydreaming about wedding gowns, I’ve nearly gone to the opposite extreme. My attitude is now one of “I don’t need a man, and you’re crazy if you’re going to convince me otherwise.”
There’s a warm day once a week when winter’s ending
Bringing little bits of summer yet to come
It’s like those times that we’re together when it’s tempting
To take your hand instead of turn and run
There’s some truth to that. I don’t need a man. I’m happy to be a young, single Christian woman. I’m throwing a lot of effort toward starting a career, and I have some great friends for support. I have interests, I have hobbies, I have Jesus. I don’t have a boyfriend.
See, I could talk all night about how I’m so happy
But I’d be wasting words on things just halfway true
If real contentment is a constant, then I wonder
Why I often wish that I were holding you
There’s effects of that mentality. Despite the truth in it, my desire for independence is also rooted in doubts and insecurity. Therefore, if I find myself intrigued by a man, I’m quick to beat myself up for it. “It’ll never happen!” I tell myself. “You’re just being silly. Put that out of your mind.”
And you can call it what you want, and write it off as just temptation
Wear the single life and dress it to the nines
But those sweet freedom berries make a bitter glass to drink
When no one’s there to share with you the wine
I think that extreme may be just as bad as the other. Balance, please?
–Tara Leigh Cobble & Oliver Lollis, “Winter’s Ending”
High maintenance in so many ways
My roommate loves to remind me that I’m high maintenance. I think she enjoys the contrast between our personalities in that way. While I take at least thirty minutes to get ready in the morning, she doesn’t mind rolling out of bed and throwing her hair in a ponytail from time to time. She borrows my lipstick for fun – it’s not a part of her daily routine.
Appearance isn’t the only way that I’m high maintenance, though. I’m somewhat particular about my car. My bedroom has to be just so – it takes a great deal of restraint for me to go to bed without perfecting everything. I kill myself to make articles perfect, and if they fail to meet my standards, I don’t want to share them with you. I’ve been called the music snob for my particular taste in tunes.
Oh – and I am extremely picky about men. We couldn’t forget that, now could we?
Those of you who know me or who read me often are familiar with my numerous complaints about the opposite sex. Part of my motivation for whining about them all the time is pure entertainment value – y’all comment, I laugh at myself and we all win in the end. My rants are also partially rooted in truth.
But don’t let the chip on my shoulder fool you – I’m aware that the problem is just as much my own (if not entirely so).
I made a profound statement to my friend Jesse many months ago. We were searching the aisles of Albertson’s for a specific brand of chips during a late-night grocery run. I couldn’t settle for the almost-right brand – I wanted the correct product. It was then that a certain truth hit me.
“I’ll probably be the last of my friends to get married,” I claimed as I plucked items from the shelf.
Jesse looked at me quizically.
“I’m so picky that I’ve not only got to find a guy who fulfills my specifications – I’ve also got to find one that will put up with me!”
He laughed my statement off as we paid for our items, but that truth has stuck with me over time. As I’ve toyed with the thought of various flirtations in the past couple of weeks, it’s wormed its way back to the front of my mind.
When I moved to Alabama, I joked that I might finally find myself the Southern boy that I’d been searching for. I didn’t want a Floridian man for fear that it would mean staying in the state I was finally breaking free from.
So I’m in Alabama. I’ve been here for – what? – 12 and a half months. And after going on my first date with a “Bama boy,” I’ve been thinking about how much that kind of guy is not what I’m after.
If you’re not yelling, “Make up your mind, woman!” by now… you’re entirely too sympathetic to my side.
I do have issues with men. My friend Natalie sort of asked me that a few weeks ago, and now I’m ready to admit it. I joke about wanting one, but I’m not sure that I do. Whenever they show the slightest bit of interest, I run.
If a cute boy sits next to me at church, I rush out at the end of the service without making eye contact. When a classmate wants to set me up with his friend, I’m quick to find all the reasons it won’t work out. (And let’s face it, sometimes those reasons are genuine.) It takes a lot to get me warmed up to a guy, and so when I do, that’s something pretty special.
Maybe I need to go back to junior high and learn how to be friends with guys again. I’m realizing how much they freak me out. As much as I love to play up the role of neurotic CJ… this is an issue that I probably need to let go.
Honey, I’m a prize and you’re a catch and we’re a perfect match
The hoops certainly worked their magic today.
As it happened, Alisa and I were right on with our decision to find Nickel Creek. We intended to park it at a nearby coffee shop and work while we waited for the band to make an appearance. I figured that they’d drop by, since they’re coffee lovers who are anti-Starbucks.
I was wrong on one count: they didn’t just “drop by.”
As we slowed near the shop in search of a parking space, Alisa exclaimed, “I think I saw Chris setting up his laptop!”
We parked behind the building and hurried in, anxious to see if she was correct. I thought we were merely playing games, up until the point where she whispered “there they are!” after we crossed the cafe’s threshold.
But when my eyes adjusted to the indoor lighting, I saw Chris Thile and Sean Watkins across the room. After we ordered our drinks and spread out at a table, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood and approached them, and from there we chatted with the fellas for ten or fifteen minutes.
Hours later, I whispered to Alisa, “I’m sure glad we decided to dress cute today.” (Sean and the band’s road manager, Fielding, were still just several feet away.) And cute we were, indeed, in our skirts and tank tops. (Alisa’s skirt was long and flowered and her tank top blue; my skirt was shorter with a blue pattern, and my halter top was white.)
After I finished the article I was writing, we returned home, still jazzed from the afternoon. I was supposed to attend a play (for class) before the evening’s concert, but I went ahead and dressed for the show. I donned my “going out” jeans and borrowed one of Alisa’s cutest tank tops. With my make up freshened and my hair pulled back, I set out for the play.
Unfortunately (?), I found the theater a bit too late. There was no seating after the show started, and I was five minutes past that time. So I instead, I bid my time until the Nickel Creek concert by allowing those hoop earrings to get me into more trouble.
Yep, I got digits and plans to meet up with a certain fella sometime in the near future. Okay, okay – it’s not as exciting as I make it sound. But there’s possibility there, and I may just follow where (if) it leads. 😉
Yes, the hoops were successful – so much so, in fact, that I’m reluctant to take them off.
Tonight Alisa and I discussed – briefly – our freedom in singleness. I was checking out a cute guy across the room (who I think ended up standing next to me during the bus-side concert). I’d remarked to her, “We’re so bad,” and she corrected me. “No we’re not. We’re enjoying our singleness. Is it wrong for us to talk about cute guys because ‘that’s not what Christian girls do?'” Interesting thoughts, no?
The theory/the curse/the blessing
I have a habit that my best friend and I refer to as “making up stories.” (Really, I came up with the term – she just knows what it means.) If I wonder about the nature of something or how something came to be, I’ll theorize about it until I have an explanation that works, in my mind. It doesn’t have to be accurate, mind you – it just needs to satisfy my curiousity.
With that explanation, I have a story I’d like to share with you. 🙂
I’ve noticed something of a trend in the past few years. It’s not clearly defined; there are several categories of gentlemen to whom this theory applies. But, as fuzzy as those defining characteristics are, there’s a definite pattern that has emerged.
Let me elaborate, because I’m certain I’m making little sense.
The categories:
Now that we’ve cleared that up – let me explain to you the actual theory.
If you fall into one of those three categories, you run the risk of marrying the next woman you date.
Does the title (the theory/the curse/the blessing) now make more sense?
I thought so.
For your consideration, I submit several items of evidence:
There are several guys who have slipped through the cracks, of course. I can think of at least… three who are exceptions to this otherwise accurate rule. Of course, one of those has only been free of me for a month, so it’s a bit early to determine whether the curse took hold.
Now fellas, I fully expect flowers and candies arriving at my doorstep. If you wish for me to enact the curse/blessing on you, it’ll take some wooing. 😉
*Some names altered
**This was written with a smile on my face, not with bitterness in my heart. Just so you know. 😉
Keeping time
I’ve got a little habit that I’ve only recently realized is strange.
I celebrate the anniversaries of all sorts of things – mentally, at the very least. Let me give you a few examples.
26 April 2004 – 2 year anniversary of college graduation
24 May 2004 – 23rd birthday of the guy I liked for three years in my early teens
4 June 2004 – 12 year anniversary of that time we went to Disney World in sixth grade
1 July 2004 – 7 year anniversary of getting my braces off
25 Oct 2004 – 2 years since one painful DTR, 3 years since another
2 Nov 2004 – 5 years of walking with the Lord
12 Nov 2004 – 9 years since I performed in a NFL halftime show
You get the idea. Some of these events are rather significant; I’ll probably tally the years since my college graduation and since I got real in my faith for decades to come. Although some of the events I remember are silly, the others have served as mile markers for me. I can look at some major points in my life and recognize how far I’ve come since.
I remember the freedom that I felt at Providence Canyon. That was the day that I decided I wasn’t going on staff with Campus Crusade for Christ (two years ago this month). I remember the tears I cried on the drive to Matt Schoolfield’s graduation party. I can’t forget driving through the streets of Trussville and bawling as “Somewhere North” filled my car.
And if I’m wise, neither will I forget the lessons that Jesus has taught me in the time since.