"When you love someone but it goes to waste, could it be worse?" -Coldplay
She asked, I spilled my guts. The night was a thick black, but the sky was clear. I remember, because when I had dropped her off, I raced to the top of the Bible building and laid face up on the concrete railing for a while. We were sitting in the car after our weekly girls group. I distinctly remember Rebekah, very gently, but honestly saying to me, "There is no shame in counseling. Maybe it's time to see somebody?". I quickly dismissed her suggestion knowing full well I am not crazy and being absolutely sure all I needed to do was find my boot straps and pull as hard as possible.
You see, Luke was my first love. My first real, true, wanted-to-spend-my-life-with, love. Like a fool, I took him for granted and he found interest elsewhere. I gave up looking at other men my first two years of college because I was certain the hope I was holding out for would come. Eventually, he came to a final decision, and I began a mild depression that failed two courses and gained fifteen pounds. He was my idol, and just like that, he was snatched from my grip. I thought I'd never get over him, but at some point during my junior year, I started letting go. Probably around the time Jeremy took his place on my little pedestal. I've used this story to play my victim card with men ever since. But, the thing about victims is, they are nothing but sad characters in a story without the rise-above plot. I need the rise above plot.
Ten years later, looking back I have been allowed to see bits of what God was doing. He set a standard for me. He showed me what it looks like to date my best friend that would love me, pray with me, and skip school for me. He used that relationship to coax me into submersion in Haiti and Fortress, two boulders of formative milestones in my early twenties. He has used that man to display idolatry and forgiveness in physical form, and even continues to this day to use his encouraging wisdom as a light in my darkest moments.
Nick did everything right. There was nothing he could have done better to make me stay. Leaving was a decision on my part. Though that decision was made through countless hours of tossing and turning in the night, it was the right one. But, it did not come without surrendering to battered bruises and gaping wounds. I beat myself up over that decision for months. I second guessed it, pros and cons listed it, and even tried to reverse it a few times. I took this love for granted also, not anticipating the amount of pain and regret that would ensue. Nick had made his way atop my pedestal and I convinced myself I had blown my last chance and another would never love me. Again, I laid myself on a jagged bed of pity, feeling cold and restless without my sheets of idolatry to cover me.
Two years later, I can see God's prints have touched here as well. Learning it is not I who is able to change people, but God. Learning that not all have been blessed with the same, over-easy, coming of age film that my life debuted. Knowing the warm feeling of a man loving me without doubt, proud of me, and unhesitant of his feelings from the moment they began.
Throughout all this dating and learning I wrote a letter to the Next Guy I Date. I actually wrote this letter to Jon, and promised myself I would not give it to him until six official months had passed after we ended things. That way I could be SURE my head wasn't "cloudy" as he liked to call it. No clouds stick around for six months straight right? You don't have to be a science teacher to know that. But Jon has clearly made his decision as you'll read in the last paragraphs. So I just changed the name.
Dear Next Guy,
I'm in. I'm all in! I have real feelings for you, so instead of being mean and sarcastic to you like pig-tails on a playground, I am going to say loving, encouraging things to show you my affections. I will not be so afraid of labels and commitment, I will call it like it is. I will not be worried of the level our relationship will jump to if I take you to Winnsboro to meet my crazy family. Come meet them! And furthermore, I will even say the word "relationship". Maybe even introduce you as my "boyfriend". Probably not pet names though, don't push it. I will not give so much status to girls night's out. You should probably come on those too and meet my crazy friends. They will be around forever so you need to know what you're dealing with. I will not put you in situations that make you unsure of my feelings, my loyalty, my honesty. You will know all of my feelings. You will feel all of my efforts. All of your efforts will be noticed and appreciated. I will make time for you. I will stay up past my bedtime for you. I will travel with you. I will dress up for you. I can't play the game, and I can't be cool and coy. But, I can be myself. I know how to do that. I want you to be yourself too, because I want to know everything! And, if you'll give me just a little time and patience, I promise to unfold as soon as I can.
Seriously,
Grown-Up-C
So here we are at the head of a new frontier. Ah, this place looks familiar. I guess it is only a matter of time before I can see the productive hindsight of this surgery. I'll assume my regular routine of feeling sorry for myself, crying my pillow wet, and asking "why?". Do you know how much I would love to say, immediately, like today, "I'm clinging to God. No worries here. Keep truckin'! Men are NOT my idol! There is more to life than romance!" ...MAN do I wish I was THAT girl. She sounds like such a with-it person. But that's not me, because I'm a human. So here is me. Confession: I kissed Jon. About a week ago. Oops.
I told him I hated that we weren't allowed to communicate. He said we could be friends. I texted him. He wrote back. Texting turned into calling, turned into I stopped by to see him, turned into break-up-making-out. Just once. And all of a sudden I felt normal, confident, beautiful again. Just like that (snap)! Feelings rushing back in all their glory. Now remember, up until about a week ago we had not spoken or seen each other since December. Silly me, I assumed we were back in the game!...and the texts became shorter...and then the texts stop getting responses...and then the final text at lunch today... "Carisse its not good for us to be spending time together...I think its best if we don't hang out...This is what I want and need". And, just like that (snap) it was taken away again. My precious, long lost idol dropped on my head like an anvil in the cartoons. Tears leaped to my eyes in the car.
My reaction was not to run into the arms of Jesus like they tell you at summer camp. Whatever running into non-tangible arms looks like. My reaction was far less noble. My first thoughts were my appearance. I'll show him! I'll lose weight, I'll dye my hair, I'll get these braces off. I'll buy a new wardrobe, start a new career, move some place fabulous! I'll be around for the next guy, and he'll be bigger, better, faster, stronger. THEN you'll miss me. THEN you'll wish you had changed your mind! You'll rue the day!
Shortly after this temper-tantrum I read a tweet by Jen Hatmaker, my new girl-crush. I wish I was best friends with her so she could keep me accountable with her wise ways every minute. But for now, I'll settle for her tweets.
"Enslaved" huh? Well that's different. And it sucks. And its true. All this time I've considered men nothing more than a little distraction that keeps me from my quiet time, that and being a normal girl to date. However, start tossing words around and we have a whole new picture of what I've been dealing with ever since Matt chose Kellie and not me in the third grade. Enslaved. I let that roll around on my tongue. It sounds like bondage. It sounds like a lifetime. It sounds like Roots, and the Dark Ages, and the Jews that Charleton Heston set free. It sounds awful. It sounds like I need a rescue. It sounds like I need a saviour. Now who's that I hear about a Saviour on Sundays...?
