Facing the Judge

A few months ago a friend of mine tried to convince me to channel my strong emotions into writing music. Not only would I drain my emotions of their intensity, but I would have a great song at the end too. That would be great if I wasn’t the only English teacher on the planet with absolutely no ability to write creatively: not songs, not stories, not poems. I did however feel some strong emotions later that week as I ended a non-relationship with a boy I liked. How did I feel? Could I write what I felt into a song, or at least a poem? I tried.

I won’t share the poem with you; it’s crap. I can’t write poems because I get struck on an idea and then my mind seethes on that idea and I completely lose any logical train of thought that could be written into prose. I am more likely to write an essay about an idea and everything every philosopher has had to say about that idea than a cohesive train of thought, poetically expressed in verse.

Here is the idea I got stuck on. I feel like I am on trial. Every time I go on a date with someone new, or someone old who can’t commit to me I feel like I am on trial. Will the judge deem me worthy of another date, or even heaven forbid, a relationship with that person? Am I cute enough, but not too cute, smart enough, but not too smart, thin enough, but not—(oh wait, that doesn’t apply to me!); am I too old, too young, ambitious enough, righteous enough, not so righteous I won’t be any fun; experienced enough but not enough to make me seem worldly or frivolous. Am I too fashionable so I look spendy? Am I not fashionable enough so I look dowdy? If I wear something a tiny bit low-cut am I immodest, if I don’t am I a prude? Is there the proper amount of attraction, or is there so much I make him scared; or worse--not enough, and as a man, he knows his attraction to me cannot grow.

If, if, if, if, if. When it doesn’t work out us single people get stuck on if. What if I would have given it more time, what if I hadn’t suggested we see each other more regularly, what if I hadn’t gone out with a different guy that weekend? Should I have said yes to another date? What if my attraction to him really could have grown? How important is attraction really anyway, right? What if I just give him one more chance? Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned I hated his favorite t.v. show? Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned I’m not a very good cook. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him I liked him, a lot.

And then the if’s you can’t change. If I was shorter, if I was thinner, if I was younger, if I was more fun, if I was cuter, if I liked sports, if I had the right hair color, if I, if, if I, if I, if only I….

And that is what it feels like to be dating, like you are someone no one has of yet deemed worthy of choosing. And sometimes you are your own jury and 12 little versions of yourself are up there telling you why you are not being chosen, why you are still in court, up on trial in front of a man who for some reason you have convinced yourself has command over some area of your fate.

And that’s just it. You have to go through the process of freeing yourself from the ifs and from thinking your life has value if, and only if, you are in relationship. In Sister Oak’s book A Single Voice she said, “I remember feeling many times that I was just marking time, waiting for my life to happen.” You have got to make your life, not wait for it to happen. You have to learn to be happy with yourself, as yourself. It’s a process, it’s a journey, and one I won’t give up on. I dust myself off when something doesn’t work out, and obviously by now I’ve had a lot that hasn’t worked out! I try to self-improve, to make myself happy and interesting, and try not to worry too much about the what if’s.

And I would just like to say Ha, my mom said if I went on study abroad (when I was 20) I might miss dating opportunities that could lead to marriage (no offense to my mom whom I love love love) that didn’t change the course of my fate, I’m still single.

Or did it? Am I still single because the man I was supposed to marry found someone else while I was traipsing around London? Jk, I Love you mom!