HopefulLeigh

I Don't Understand Why You're Single

A room with a view

We sat in a small lodge atop Colorado foothills. The windows were wide and open, revealing a view ripe for distraction. But no one was distracted. We were there to learn from a bereavement expert and learn we did. Before Dr. Wolfelt began the first session, he asked we go around the room to introduce ourselves. Discussing grief and loss would bond the 16 of us in a unique way. We were there to learn from one another and he wanted our community to start off right.

 

We each took a turn sharing where we were from, our jobs, our personal experience with loss, about our families, and then a few fun facts. I gave my spiel, then added my fun facts: White Sox fan and host of an annual Chili and Doughnut dinner for my friends. Both facts received quite the attention but it didn't prepare me for what happened the next day.

After discussing a variety of topics at lunch, a co-participant turned to me and said, “you're a baseball fan and you make chili. How on earth are you still single?” The group laughed but inwardly I cringed. I tamped down a sharp retort and instead replied with, “if only it was that simple.”

Yes, guys have been intrigued by my White Sox fanaticism and penchant for hosting dinner parties. But “fun facts” are not enough to sustain a relationship.

“I don't understand why you're single” is the inverse of “Why are you still single?” Both subtly tell the recipient there's something wrong with them or with their suitors. Either way, neither affirms the goodness of being single. The message hones in on the preference of marriage, the implication you've not yet arrived if you're not married.

Most people don't mean to imply any such thing. When a friend expresses their befuddlement, I try to hear their heart behind it. They know I want to get married, they think I'm a “catch.” They don't understand why a deserving man hasn't picked up on this. But the sentiment stings.

Especially when it comes out of left field. And trust me, it always comes out of left field.

Were I discussing my feelings about being single, the words might fall on willing ears. After all, I hope there isn't a reason I'm single. Most days I'm confident there isn't a reason but that wasn't always the case.

Several years ago, my singleness especially vexed me. I asked my parents and a few trusted friends to set me straight. I knew I wasn't perfect but was I doing something wrong? Was I blind to some habit or character trait that screamed “man repellant”?

Each one said I wasn't doing anything wrong. They cheerfully agreed I wasn't perfect and suggested areas of growth but equally honestly said none of these things were enough to make men steer clear. We talked through the dates I'd had and why these guys had not been the best fit for me. This was the reassurance I needed at the time. It went deeper than a catch-all phrase. Plus, I had asked for their input myself. Soon thereafter, I developed my theology of singleness and fully and finally embraced contentment. It's a beautiful thing.

When someone seemingly out of the blue tells me, “I don't understand why you're still single,” I wonder why it matters to them. I wonder if they're feeling disconnected due to our marital status difference or if there's a bit of the “grass is greener” effect going on. If I'm not bringing up my dating life, why are they?

Do people not trust me when I say I'm enjoying my life?

It's been 5 years since the bereavement conference but I still remember sitting at lunch, suddenly feeling as if I didn't belong. I was an excellent hospice social worker and child and teen bereavement counselor. Professionally, I had every right to be there.

But on a personal level, an off-handed statement about my marital status made me feel as if I'd been sifted, like wheat from its chaff. While there were a few people who'd lost spouses and partners, I was the only one who had never been married. Once again, I was Other.

Were they trying to understand why I was single? Did they assume it was my choice or I had some fatal flaw? Or did they guess I hadn't met the right person yet?

It wasn't the first time someone told me they didn't understand my singleness, nor has it been the last. Each time dredges up old feelings of insecurity and doubt. Each time I cast off the lies and replace them with truth.

I'm “still” single because I am.

Singleness has its perks. Marriage has its perks. Neither status is better than the other.

God is using me mightily in this season of my life.

If I never get married, my life will have meaning and value regardless.

Rest assured, each spring I'll be cheering on my White Sox and come fall I'll be serving up chili with doughnuts. You can count on that.

Seeking: the Perfect Pair of Jeans and a Wingman

This story is about great customer service but it is also a story of my desperate need for a wingman. Here's how it happened.

One late January day found me free of work responsibilities. Ever since my friend Megan gave me constructive style criticism, I'd meant to go jeans shopping. She told me to look for matchstick jeans and recommended J. Crew.

I'd tried jeans at a few locations but I hadn't made it over to J. Crew because it's located at the Green Hills mall, at which I rarely shop. THE TRAFFIC, I tell you. Nothing drives me crazier than bad drivers and Tennessee is rife with them. This is especially evident in Green Hills. It's best to go on a weekday.

My best friend and her daughter accompanied me to the mall. I'll tell you this much: 4 year olds are great for my self-esteem. Anna thinks I look wonderful in everything I wear. I'm keeping her around for life.

I've been shopping at J. Crew for almost two decades now, which makes me feel old. My parents gave me a cream cardigan when I was in high school and that sucker is still in great shape.

Their clothes fit me well.  I've only ever received indifferent customer service. I'm not a Big Spender. I get it.

All this to say, when good customer service happens, I take note.

I circled the store until I found the Matchstick Jeans. The sizing confused me (waist length- why?) so I grabbed a few different sizes for good measure. I started examining the colored pants, something I've wanted to try. I didn't expect to talk to anyone until I was ready for a dressing room, when an affable young man appeared before me.

His other colleagues had walked by with nary a smile. This guy grinned, greeted me, and asked if I needed any help. When I declined, he offered to set up a dressing room for me. And then- and then- he complimented the owl earrings I was wearing.

It's like he knew the way to my heart.

I told him my friend Amber made them. He replied that's the best kind of gift. Before I knew it, we developed a lovely rapport, setting the tone for the rest of my time in the store.

We traded names and I suppressed a laugh when I learned his name was Matt, just like my brother. Matt & Leigh go together. It made it easy for me to remember his name.

I grabbed a pair of Minnie pants in Boulevard Green. Just to see. When it was time to try everything on, Matt saw I had Tracy and Anna with me. He upgraded us to a huge dressing room so we'd have enough room.

He checked on us regularly, bringing a coloring book and stickers to entertain Anna and bringing me different sizes of jeans.

Is this what a good sales person should do? Well, yes. But Matt consistently went above and beyond. Can I emphasize again this has never happened to me at J. Crew before?

Should I also mention that Matt happened to be cute? And he knew how to banter?

While we ascertained he was, in fact, straight, I thought he was too young for me.

But still. My mind goes completely blank in these situations. Once I think a guy is attractive, I lose my ability to make normal, interesting conversation. I respond to questions, in hopefully not too awkward form, but I literally can't think about how to interact with them.

I need a wingman. Everywhere I go. (The interaction with the cute cable guy earlier this week was utter confirmation of this truth.)

You may be thinking, "wait! Tracy and Anna were with you. Why didn't Tracy act as your wingman?"

Excellent question. Tracy?

In any case, I bought the Matchstick Jeans and the Minnie Pants. They both fit perfectly. Matt checked me out (ahem) at the register. I think I responded mostly intelligently, all the while wondering what question I could ask to further the conversation.

Nothing.

I left the store with product in hand and no phone number. I then posted on Facebook and Twitter about my wonderful shopping experience.

Wouldn't you know? I did hear from someone at J. Crew, who passed along my praises.

They did not pass along my phone number to Matt. I didn't even think to ask!

Live and learn.

(Let the record show I'm 99% sure the gentleman in question is too young for me. I'd rather not know just how young.)

 

Coat, LOFT (several years old but still holding strong)

Shirt, Stitch Fix

(brief note: I never would have bought this shirt on my own. The suede front panel and elbow patches, black and brown together...it wouldn't have grabbed me. It's now one of my favorite things. This is why I use Stitch Fix. They stretch me in the best of ways.)

Minnie Pants in Stretch Twill, J. Crew

Shoes, Target (similar)

Owl Earrings, gift (incidentally, what I wore while shopping at J. Crew)

 

The reason these pictures are taken in a park: the nieces-in-love wanted to play. I love best friend reunion weekends. I also love that it's the end of coat season.

Linking up with Dear Abby Leigh for Dress for the Day

Disclosure: Affiliate links included in this post but I'm not receiving any special perks for mentioning my great customer service experience at J. Crew.

The Case for Not Marrying Young

I tried to process the news of my second cousin's wife's pregnancy as I took the ramp for I-65. (Actually, he may be a third cousin. I can never remember how that works.) They'd married a few months before.

"She's due this summer and she'll graduate in May. Good timing," Mom commented on the phone, unaware of my internal drama.

"She hasn't even finished college yet?! Excuse me while I throw up a little," I exclaimed. Then I qualified my incredulity. "It's not that I don't wish them well. It's just..."

 

I tried to rein in the feistiness as best as I could. Or did I? Read the rest at A Deeper Family.

The Morning After

The morning after my 24^th birthday, I woke up with a parched throat and fuzzy memories. I pieced together what happened between leaving the bar and hanging out at my best friend's house into the wee hours. I remembered the cute guy. Oh, did I remember him.

 

Flying high on free drinks and surrounded by a posse of those who love me, the friend of a friend caught my eye. Hours later, we ditched the movie playing in the basement. Innocent enough.

We kissed and then. And then. And then we almost.

And I had wanted it to happen. My body called the shots with a guy I barely knew. I hadn't had sex because I said no but because he did. After years of hearing about the one thing guys want and how women were the boundary enforcers, it turned out my self-control wasn't iron-clad. It turned out some guys were actually gentlemen.

The magnitude of what I'd almost done settled low in me, between a pounding headache and churning stomach. This wasn't the first close call but it was definitely the closest.

 

Just the day before I'd talked to my mom about how it was difficult at times to be a virgin but I was glad I kept my eye on the prize: a long-lasting marriage was more important than temporary pleasure. My parents had waited, I knew I would wait. It was simply how things were meant to be. We've always talked openly about sex. While my mom doesn't always understand my perspective as a single woman, she never hesitates to listen.

 

Yet less than 24 hours later I absolved myself with little care. It shocked me to my core. That we hadn't followed through mattered little.

 

I tried to rationalize it in the cold light of day but I couldn't. No matter the trend, I wanted to wait to have sex until I was married. Wracked with guilt, I asked God for forgiveness. And then I wondered how on earth I was going to stay abstinent for who knows how long.

 

Up to that point, I'd bided my time. I thought I was the kind of girl who could kiss without consequence. (Here was the fruit of ignoring that nagging feeling.) I thought I knew my limits. This was a reality check.

 

Nothing prepared for me this. Not signing a True Love Waits card at age 14, youth group sermons on modesty, discussions with my mom about waiting until marriage, or discussions with my friends who didn't care they hadn't waited.

 

I craved admiration and affirmation from the guys in my life.  For so long I'd believed if I couldn't find a boyfriend, I could at least have fun, even though my heart was not made that way. My sexuality was defined around male attention received or desired. I listened to my insecurities instead of God. I started to see how off the mark this was.

 

I was ill equipped to piece together a theology which spoke to the matter of sex and singleness. I didn't agree with Joshua Harris or the emotional purists. Nor could I get on board with a more permissible sexual ethic, no matter how hard I tried. I know my heart too well. Where was the middle ground?

 

Instead of purity culture, I wish we'd been told, "This may be difficult at times. You won't be "ruined" if you don't wait- and especially not if the decision was taken away from you due to abuse or rape.  Waiting won't guarantee amazing sex with your spouse but sex in the context of marriage is God's best and here's why. And by the way, you're more than this decision."

 

They told me True Love Waits and I am waiting but not because they said so. This season has taught me about what I need and how I've compromised.  It's given me the space to develop a realistic view of marriage and healthier expectations of marital sex. Celibacy and chastity are about more than sex. It's about intimacy, realizing I do have self-control after all, and learning about my sexuality apart from sex. It's making the decision for myself, not anyone else, to reserve sex for marriage because I believe it's God's best for me.

I am not the poster child for virginity or even singleness. I am not a paragon of virtue. While celibacy has its place, it's not a spiritual gift. It's a discipline and like most disciplines, I look forward to seeing these efforts pay off some day. But if marriage isn't in my future, this will still be worth it. I'm more than my virginity, after all.

We're tempted to universalize individual experience. Are we beholden now to those who didn't wait, now consumed with regret? To those who say the celibate are repressed and sex isn't that big of a deal? To those who waited and judge those who didn't? Why does this conversation circle back to "how far is too far" without answering the cry of our hearts? Why do married people set the "rules" for singles' sex and sexuality in the first place?

What is the purpose in reserving sex for marriage? The Church has missed the mark in showing us a better way. Regardless of our sexual pasts, we enter relationships with hang ups and misplaced expectations. Some of us wait, many do not. And still I long to hear why.

I am a woman. Not being a wife or mother does not make me less of a woman. My sexuality is not defined by those roles. Nor am I defined by my virginity or my past. I am a unique blend of beauty, character, and imperfection. I am enough. I have tasted my power, I have chosen chastity, I have learned what lies behind these desires. There's nothing passive now in this decision to wait.

But this is just me. This is the path best suited for me. I did not always choose it. I understand why many go another way. I've often longed to do the same- no one ever said this would be easy. I don't know what this will look like in my next serious relationship. As with everything, we'll figure it out together.

There is no condemnation here. Simply a plea. Stand beside me, encourage me. Challenge me but don't judge me. Even if you didn't make the same choice, even if you think you'd never make the same decision. 

 

No matter what I have or haven't done, I am worthy of love. And so are you.

For the last year, I've known I needed to tell this story. For one, we need to hear more from those who are single and waiting. It hasn't been the right time until now. I'm grateful to the brave voices who have encouraged grace and freedom this past week. I expect I'll be sharing more in the coming weeks.

Everyone Starts Out Single

I sat on a stool next to the kitchen counter and drank a glass of water, while their dog perched in my lap. The almost 4 hour drive left me thirsty. It had been a full two weeks back in my Illinois hometown. I could scarcely wrap my mind around the trip's conclusion but here I was at my friends' house in Urbana. My road trip oasis. A respite before driving the rest of the way to Nashville.

Kristin put away the dishes in the dishwasher while Jason cleaned up from dinner. It was a breathtaking dance to watch, their seamless habits not thrown off in the least by a late night guest. We chatted about our respective Christmas celebrations and caught up on life. I love spending time with Jason and Kristin for such simple reasons. Fancy drinks, stimulating conversation about politics and religion, sharing books we've read and music we're listening to. Each time I leave, I wish we lived closer. They are my people and I am theirs...

 

Head on over to A Deeper Family to read the rest.