Being Single…Still

It's February and I've decided to do something a little different. I have pre-written some blog posts to post thoughout the month, and the running theme is…{drum roll}…LOVE! Don't worry, it's not too mushy. Mostly just my naked heart and soul splattered on a internet page. So here are my thoughts on still being single:

I hate it. I want nothing more than for this single life to be a part of my past.

When I was young–like elementary school young–I developed a little anxiety about divorce. I didn’t understand the dynamics of divorce at the time but I knew I wanted nothing to do with it as an adult. I don’t really know why it stressed me out; I grew up around loving relationships and the only individuals I knew that were divorced were my third grade best friend’s parents. Actually, I don’t think I ever met them. I just heard my friend talk about how her parents were divorced and vowed that I would never let that happen to me.

Little did I know that what I should have been worrying about was finding someone to marry! Forget divorce; I’ve got to convince someone to walk down the aisle with me before I can let that anxiety control my life. Not just someone, but THE one. A Homer to my Marge. Peanut butter to my jelly. Frosting to my cupcake.

I’ve always wanted to be in love. I’ve always wanted to love someone and have him love me back equally. It hasn’t happened.

One summer, as a child, I went to a day camp for a week with some of my neighborhood friends. One of our day trips was to the beach and I can distinctly remember four of us playing together in the water: me, two other girls, and one boy. I watched as one of my friends interacted with this boy. I recognized the ease of their banter and felt a little baffled. She was...flirting with him? Is that flirting? Should I be flirting? Does someone want to flirt with me? Would I ever have the courage to flirt?

Through junior high and high school, with the image of my friend at the beach in mind, I perfected my flirting. When I became an adult, flirting became a different beast.

When I was 22, I wanted to get married. I was ready to settle down, find my mister, have a family. I remember being at a party one night and discussing finding love with my friend Steven. At the time, he had just begun his journey with his now wife. I will never forget his words of advice. He said, “If you want to find love, stop looking.” It puzzled me.

Since Steven shared his words of wisdom on me that night, I tried to stop looking for love, hoping instead that it would find me. But then I grow restless waiting and I can’t help but search for love. When I walk into a crowded room, I survey the people around me and pay attention to my heartbeat. If someone catches my eye, I immediately look at his ring finger. This is a constant. I do it everywhere: in malls, on trains, at restaurants, sporting events, church activities, in line at the grocery store. My heart can’t seem to stop searching.

This constant search often leads me to depression. I actively feel lonely and withdraw. I cry alone and question all of my life decisions. I often find reasons why I’m not good enough or worthy of love. It’s a vicious cycle.

I feel like I’ve done so much in my life to find love–so much for the past 16 years. I’ve signed up for a few dating websites and I’m still on one now. I frequent singles activities sponsored by my church, I’ve asked (see: begged) friends to set me up on blind dates. I’ve even gone on some blind dates. I’ve searched Facebook for eligible bachelors. I’ve fallen secretly in love with so many men but have never told them. Hell, I moved halfway across the world hoping to find love.

If I’m invited to parties, weddings, or anything of the like, I go in hopes that he’ll be there. I attend classes and frequent popular local spots to see if maybe I will bump into him.  I volunteer for random charities and clean-ups. I’ve spent hours on my knees, tears flowing to the floor, pleading with my God to help me find him. That prayer goes unanswered still.

When I do find him, I imagine there will be an epiphany. A moment long before we discuss our future where I will look into his suddenly-familiar eyes and say, “I looked everywhere for you.”

Susan "I Gotta Whole Lotta Love" B.