Delight
thyself also in the LORD: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.
—Psalm 37:4
To a single church girl, this verse often means one thing: Just keep on keepin’ on, and the Lord will
give you a man. Keep comin’ to
church. Keep yo’ head up, don’t worry ‘bout
what other folk say. It’s gonna
happen. In Gawd’s time, it’s gonna
happen, honey.
I admit it. I’m a cynic. But I want people to keep thinking I’m sweet
and not actually consistently fighting to repress my inner snarker. I’m still sweet, though, for real.
Anyway, you know it’s true. Up
there at the altar during altar call, prayerfully minding your own business
when it happens. Those well-meaning
hands placed upon your shoulders. That
well-meaning prayer: “Yes, Lord. She’s
been faithful to you, Lord. Give her the
desires of her heart, God. Bring her
that mate you have prepared for her, Father.”
Sigh. Thanks. But, really?
But, no, seriously, thanks.
Why does everything have to revolve around getting a man? Ugh. Once
God drops that perfect man in my path, presto change-o! Redemption, validation and happily ever
after! Then I’d be able to ride off on
my husbanded way into the blissful sunset.
Boo and barf and so not true.
But let’s keep it 100%. What the
inner snarker tries to act like she doesn’t remember is that one of the desires
of my heart really was to get a man. Inner
snarker trying to act like she didn’t really want a companion. To love and be loved. To have someone to experience life with, to
raise a family with, to grow old with.
Inner snarker in denial.
To be fair, though, I didn’t really want to “get a man.” Nawl.
I wanted to be involved in doing my little thing, amassing experience,
getting my education, creating my own fulfilling world, and in the process
(while I wasn’t looking, ‘cuz that’s when they say it happens) happen upon this
uber-compatible dude. I avoided singles
conferences like the plague. Swore off
even the idea of online anything
until I was facing the prospect of my first cat acquisition.
But I eased through my twenties without any serious prospects. I sailed through the seas of (younger) youth
without getting snatched up (since that was supposed to have happened at some
point—everyone asked why someone hadn’t come along and done that yet. Like I was supposed to know. Aside from the fact that "getting snatched up" did not seem at all ideal). The dawn of old maidhood (in church culture)
was upon me, and I had yet to snag one.
30 was supposed to be the death knell.
And here I was, 30+, still somehow able to breathe. Manless.
I mean, what was I supposed to do?
Create a profile on apostolicsingles.net? Buy a cat? (Disclaimer: I have nothing against online dating or cat ownership. Meeting people online has, for the most part, lost its stigma, and I've known several people who it totally worked for. And cats, I'm sure, are amazing pets.) I had overcome so much to even start this doctoral program. I was finally on an even keel. Sure, I was lonely sometimes, but I was doing
all right. And I had even gone to a
couple of singles conferences without imploding into a mass of sarcastic
goo. I learned a few new things here and
there, one of them being the acoustic guitar.
I was doing all right. I had even
made it through the searing disappointment of moving on from a relationship that was
almost just right. I was doing all
right.
You wouldn’t believe it, but I wasn’t looking. It started with a platonic cup of
coffee. It continued with playing the
acoustic guitar, one of those things I had picked up while I was doing my own thing. It continued right on into the doors of the
church, that place where those well-meaning words were annoyingly prayed over
me while I was prayerfully minding my own business.
Before one of our pre-relationship guitar jamming sessions, I asked my
boyfriend what he wanted to play first.
He smiled a shy smile and said, “Whatever your heart desires.” A spark of recognition, a surge of
adrenaline. Did he just say…? He had no idea.
