At one point, I said to a co-worker that it is a great time to be a girl in this country. He asked me how I could say that, given the fact that women only make 70 cents on the dollar compared to men.
Actually, according to Rutgers, women made 73% of what men made in 2000 (73 cents on the dollar). I can only imagine that this figure has improved, but even if it hasn't, I still stand by my original statement: It is a great time to be a girl.
To begin with, women in America currently have it better than most of the women at any point in history and better than many of the women of the world at this time. We have representation in the government, and our votes count for equal to a male's vote. We can define ourselves in any number of ways, none of which are restricted to how many babies we raise or how well our husbands are fed. In fact, many women are either waiting until later in life to marry or are choosing not to get married at all, preferring to stay single, which was not always an option unless one wanted to live with one's parents forever. We can own property without permission. Fewer of us die in childbirth than ever before, and birthcontrol is easily attainable with minimal side-effects. We can give and receive sex freely without being labeled publicly (meaning through the legal system) as immoral. We don't even need men to have babies anymore. So, when you think about the fact that even a century ago, women could not vote in federal elections and it was nearly impossible for a woman to succeed on her own without a man of some kind backing her, it is pretty remarkable that we have come as far as we have.
And I'll say it, as women in the United States, we are incredibly spoiled right now. (Women in other parts of the world do not always fare nearly so well.) For example, a woman in America today can choose whether she wants to stay at home or go to work. She can choose whether she wants to be single or get married. She can serve in the military (even though she can't fight in combat), but she can't be drafted. She can expect a man to hold the door for her, or she can get pissy about it. She can pick up the check or demand that the guy does. She can bash guys, especially single white guys, but they can't bash her. And even though it might be degrading, she can still use her sexuality to get what she wants, whether it be avoiding a traffic ticket by unbuttoning an extra button or getting the mechanic to run her car through the car wash by saying how nervous it makes her. She can also get almost anything she wants by crying, even though some of us refuse to invoke this method. In short, we women are currently having our proverbial cake and eating it, too.
Soon, the pendulum will start to swing the other way. It will dawn on men that we have "equal rights," and they will start looking at drafting us along with men into the military. Soon people will figure out that our equal rights are actually superior rights full of double standards. Soon, they will realize that for 27 cents more on every dollar, they could be getting far more from us.
Soon, the jig will be up, but in the meantime, I celebrate being a girl during one of the best periods and in one of the best places to be one.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Sick wuss, table for one
My life is a busy one, probably more so than most. I live on my own, I pay my bills on-time (usually), and I consider myself fully capable and independent. I'm single, and I'm quite okay with that-- usually. But this past week I found myself curled up in a ball on my bed, shivering, coughing, sore, and lonely. And for the first time in forever, I truly wished that I wasn't single.
What is it about a simple cold that can turn me into a co-dependent wuss? I am at a loss. Why does being sick make me wish I had a significant other? I really cannot tell you.
I guess I've come to find that despite my semi-feminist beliefs, my self-assuredness, my independence, and my invincibility, I still want to be taken care of; particularly when I'm sick. I'd love nothing more than to have someone around to drive me to the pharmacy, to rub my back when I cant sleep, and to supply me with endless amounts of 7up. Someone who would kiss my forehead with genuine concern and make everything better. Someone who would cuddle up next to me even if it meant that they might get sick.
If you're lucky enough, you have a great mom who did all of that for you when you were growing up. And if you're lucky enough, when you do grow up, you'll find the kind of person who will fill that role again-- not because you're needy, but just because it's one of the most genuine ways you can be cared for.
So I guess I'm in the inbetween-- a place of familiarity throughout one's 20s. But I think I'll be okay for now, and perhaps someday when I do grow up, I'll be lucky enough.
What is it about a simple cold that can turn me into a co-dependent wuss? I am at a loss. Why does being sick make me wish I had a significant other? I really cannot tell you.
I guess I've come to find that despite my semi-feminist beliefs, my self-assuredness, my independence, and my invincibility, I still want to be taken care of; particularly when I'm sick. I'd love nothing more than to have someone around to drive me to the pharmacy, to rub my back when I cant sleep, and to supply me with endless amounts of 7up. Someone who would kiss my forehead with genuine concern and make everything better. Someone who would cuddle up next to me even if it meant that they might get sick.
If you're lucky enough, you have a great mom who did all of that for you when you were growing up. And if you're lucky enough, when you do grow up, you'll find the kind of person who will fill that role again-- not because you're needy, but just because it's one of the most genuine ways you can be cared for.
So I guess I'm in the inbetween-- a place of familiarity throughout one's 20s. But I think I'll be okay for now, and perhaps someday when I do grow up, I'll be lucky enough.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Single on a Saturday Night Tip #1
One of the most difficult things about being single can be watching all your "couple" friends wander off in twos on "date night."
But to me, this is the thing that married people forget: Being single is wonderful in so many ways. People tend to define themselves only in terms of their sexuality, but people are so much more than that. We have so many dimensions, and to me, being single on a Saturday night is a perfect time to celebrate these. It's a perfect time to feed your other needs.
If you're sick of the typical club and bar scene, though, try this for something different.
Last year, my single girlfriends and I had a standing Saturday night "date" for about six months. Each Saturday night, we tried a new restaurant. The rules were as follows: It had to be under $20 a plate (preferrably including an alcoholic beverage), none of us could have ever eaten there before, no more than four people could go, we would rotate choosing the restaurant, and whoever chose the restaurant drove to the restaurant. In addition, we usually planned to go around 3:30 or 4:00 to beat the supper crowd. We found many of the restaurants from City Search, and I don't believe we once had a bad experience. We tried lots of great cuisine, including everything from mango shrimp at a Malaysian restaurant to sweet potato fries at a great little neighborhood joint with an awesomely sarcastic waitress.
There were many great things about this experience. To begin with, I never once envied my couple friends for their date night. Why would I? Every week I had a new and interesting experience to look forward to. In addition, it brought "us girls" closer together, and we would usually plan a movie or a museum or a night on the town afterwards. We have an extensive list of restaurants to choose from when we want to eat out, and we have some great stories to re-tell when we get together now. We still quote the sarcastic waitress: "Was it everything you hoped it could be and, oh, so much more?" We still go back to some of our favorite spots.
So, if you're single and wondering what to do in the upcoming weeks when the winter starts to bring you down, try getting a group of your single friends together for a restaurant sampling of your own city. There's no reason why couples should be the only ones with dates on Saturday night.
But to me, this is the thing that married people forget: Being single is wonderful in so many ways. People tend to define themselves only in terms of their sexuality, but people are so much more than that. We have so many dimensions, and to me, being single on a Saturday night is a perfect time to celebrate these. It's a perfect time to feed your other needs.
If you're sick of the typical club and bar scene, though, try this for something different.
Last year, my single girlfriends and I had a standing Saturday night "date" for about six months. Each Saturday night, we tried a new restaurant. The rules were as follows: It had to be under $20 a plate (preferrably including an alcoholic beverage), none of us could have ever eaten there before, no more than four people could go, we would rotate choosing the restaurant, and whoever chose the restaurant drove to the restaurant. In addition, we usually planned to go around 3:30 or 4:00 to beat the supper crowd. We found many of the restaurants from City Search, and I don't believe we once had a bad experience. We tried lots of great cuisine, including everything from mango shrimp at a Malaysian restaurant to sweet potato fries at a great little neighborhood joint with an awesomely sarcastic waitress.
There were many great things about this experience. To begin with, I never once envied my couple friends for their date night. Why would I? Every week I had a new and interesting experience to look forward to. In addition, it brought "us girls" closer together, and we would usually plan a movie or a museum or a night on the town afterwards. We have an extensive list of restaurants to choose from when we want to eat out, and we have some great stories to re-tell when we get together now. We still quote the sarcastic waitress: "Was it everything you hoped it could be and, oh, so much more?" We still go back to some of our favorite spots.
So, if you're single and wondering what to do in the upcoming weeks when the winter starts to bring you down, try getting a group of your single friends together for a restaurant sampling of your own city. There's no reason why couples should be the only ones with dates on Saturday night.
Friday, February 23, 2007
The Ex-Files
It’s been quite a week in the world of entertainment news. Britney shaved her head, Anna Nicole Smith’s bizarre life and death became even more bizarre, and, oh yeah-- my ex-boyfriend emailed me.
Why is this news? Because folks, I really thought this chapter in my life was over. To give some background, things didn’t end well. He dumped me, twice. And he broke my heart more times than I can count. He’s been inconsistent, unreliable, and generally unstable for most of the time that I’ve known him. And what do I do? Every time he decides that he needs me, I am there for him, regardless of the fact that I know he will run away and hurt me again.
I can’t help it. Logic tells me to delete his emails, and in fact, it was logic that lead me to attempt to cut off contact with him a few months ago. But logic doesn’t really resonate in my heart, and in my heart, for whatever reason, I really care for this messed-up semblance of a man. And regardless of the fact that I’m not giving him another go at a relationship while he still has so many issues, he still has the power to hurt me. And regardless of the fact that he holds this power, I can’t just decide that I don’t care about him. So in the end logic seems irrelevant, though it probably serves a wonderfully useful purpose.
So I’m holding my breath, closing my eyes, and jumping into a pool full of pins and needles hoping that, by some miracle, it will turn into water by the time I get there. I know that it wont. I know that it will hurt when I land. But I am predictable, and I will patch up all of my wounds (which will complement the scabs and scars already there, of course), and I will go stand by the diving board and wait to jump in again. It sounds twisted and dysfunctional, and by all means, it is. But I just keep hoping that someday I’ll hit water.
“As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don't know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.” --the Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum
Why is this news? Because folks, I really thought this chapter in my life was over. To give some background, things didn’t end well. He dumped me, twice. And he broke my heart more times than I can count. He’s been inconsistent, unreliable, and generally unstable for most of the time that I’ve known him. And what do I do? Every time he decides that he needs me, I am there for him, regardless of the fact that I know he will run away and hurt me again.
I can’t help it. Logic tells me to delete his emails, and in fact, it was logic that lead me to attempt to cut off contact with him a few months ago. But logic doesn’t really resonate in my heart, and in my heart, for whatever reason, I really care for this messed-up semblance of a man. And regardless of the fact that I’m not giving him another go at a relationship while he still has so many issues, he still has the power to hurt me. And regardless of the fact that he holds this power, I can’t just decide that I don’t care about him. So in the end logic seems irrelevant, though it probably serves a wonderfully useful purpose.
So I’m holding my breath, closing my eyes, and jumping into a pool full of pins and needles hoping that, by some miracle, it will turn into water by the time I get there. I know that it wont. I know that it will hurt when I land. But I am predictable, and I will patch up all of my wounds (which will complement the scabs and scars already there, of course), and I will go stand by the diving board and wait to jump in again. It sounds twisted and dysfunctional, and by all means, it is. But I just keep hoping that someday I’ll hit water.
“As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don't know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.” --the Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum
Friday, February 16, 2007
Just Say No to Bridesmaid Dresses
Like most single women, I have no fewer than two ugly bridesmaid dresses hanging in my closet. I have been three times a bridesmaid (never a bride), and I swear to God that I will never do it again. I understand that most married/engaged people will insist that this makes me a bastard. That's easy to say from their end of the aisle. They never have to do it again. I believe three times is quite enough, thank you. Anyone who asks me is getting turned down.
Despite my heartfelt conversations with all of my friends about never wanting to be in another wedding (pre-engagement, of course), they nevertheless continue to ask me to be the maid of honor. I do not capitalize this because I do not feel it is any particular honor, particularly after the last bridezilla told me that our other friend (who was too busy drinking to be aware of half the wedding and did none of the prep) was her best friend (on the day of the wedding).
I feel that brides are bitches. I don't care that it is their day. It is not their six months, yet they continue to act like it is. For months prior to the wedding, it consumes every conversation (and the conversations all cease once the blessed event has occurred), and hundreds of dollars worth of my hard-earned money. I spent nearly $1,000 on the last one, which I feel is excessive for anyone's special day, particularly someone who now has a new, and married I might add, best friend and little to no time to talk to me.
Because that's the thing, isn't it? Off the newly-wed goes into her club of married women where they look down on those of us who only have to wash one person's laundry, and all we get is an ugly dress. They get tax breaks, even though there's two of them, and fancy silver, and pretty china. I get the same ugly dress in several different shades.
I'm selling the dress, I've decided, as soon as I get it dry cleaned. I feel this is a wise move, especially because we are coming up on prom. Everyone when they see it says, "Ooo, you could even wear this to something else!" Never mind that I attend no event formal enough to require such a dress. Who re-uses bridesmaid dresses? Has anyone ever worn one a second time? Has anyone out there ever done something interesting with one? Perhaps made a kite from it?
If I get married someday (and that's a big "if"), I'm asking bridezilla to be my maid of honor, and I am going to torture her in every way that she tortured me. Either that, or I'm going to keep it nice and simple and get married at the courthouse. I'll cough up money for a photographer. Me and my party will wear jeans. I will have no maid of honor because I'm not into servants. It will be lovely, and no one will have to listen to one more butchered rendition of "The Wedding Song."
In the meantime, the dress hangs in my closet, taunting me because I know exactly how much money I paid to wear it a total of once. I cringe a little every time I think of the IPod I might have had if I had just said no.
Despite my heartfelt conversations with all of my friends about never wanting to be in another wedding (pre-engagement, of course), they nevertheless continue to ask me to be the maid of honor. I do not capitalize this because I do not feel it is any particular honor, particularly after the last bridezilla told me that our other friend (who was too busy drinking to be aware of half the wedding and did none of the prep) was her best friend (on the day of the wedding).
I feel that brides are bitches. I don't care that it is their day. It is not their six months, yet they continue to act like it is. For months prior to the wedding, it consumes every conversation (and the conversations all cease once the blessed event has occurred), and hundreds of dollars worth of my hard-earned money. I spent nearly $1,000 on the last one, which I feel is excessive for anyone's special day, particularly someone who now has a new, and married I might add, best friend and little to no time to talk to me.
Because that's the thing, isn't it? Off the newly-wed goes into her club of married women where they look down on those of us who only have to wash one person's laundry, and all we get is an ugly dress. They get tax breaks, even though there's two of them, and fancy silver, and pretty china. I get the same ugly dress in several different shades.
I'm selling the dress, I've decided, as soon as I get it dry cleaned. I feel this is a wise move, especially because we are coming up on prom. Everyone when they see it says, "Ooo, you could even wear this to something else!" Never mind that I attend no event formal enough to require such a dress. Who re-uses bridesmaid dresses? Has anyone ever worn one a second time? Has anyone out there ever done something interesting with one? Perhaps made a kite from it?
If I get married someday (and that's a big "if"), I'm asking bridezilla to be my maid of honor, and I am going to torture her in every way that she tortured me. Either that, or I'm going to keep it nice and simple and get married at the courthouse. I'll cough up money for a photographer. Me and my party will wear jeans. I will have no maid of honor because I'm not into servants. It will be lovely, and no one will have to listen to one more butchered rendition of "The Wedding Song."
In the meantime, the dress hangs in my closet, taunting me because I know exactly how much money I paid to wear it a total of once. I cringe a little every time I think of the IPod I might have had if I had just said no.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Beware of men carrying red flags
It’s the age of online dating, folks. It may not be fair to say that “everyone’s doing it,” but a lot of people certainly are. No longer are e-personals solely reserved for 40-year-old men still living with their mothers. As the stigma slowly fades, more and more people seem to be eagerly seeking the convenience and sense of control that online dating seems to offer. But as with many approaches to the mating and dating game, there are a few pitfalls too. So in the interest of weeding through the pervs and narcissists, here it is: my unofficial, unscientific guide to avoiding creeps in the world of online dating.
At the very least, online dating can provide one with the opportunity to meet some interesting people. Just beware, because for every decent man, there may just be 4 other sex-obsessed, self-absorbed, hopelessly average men with tasteless tattoos waiting for your email.
- A screenname, or handle, is one of the first things displayed on your profile. Screennames like texasboy23 or music_is_life are nice and neutral. Try to avoid guys with screennames such as hornyman2000, sex_u_up, or vaginamuncher (I swear this is one I actually came across once). Also steer clear of any guys with “pimp” in their handle. Seriously, if a guy can’t make something as simple as his screenname non-sexual, he probably thinks with something other than his brain.
- It’s always nice to see the goods before you test-drive them. A picture is a good way to decide whether or not there is attraction, because for better or for worse it does matter. Men who post pictures of themselves shirtless should be avoided at all costs. I don’t really care if you have great abs, and I don’t really want to see them. Actually, the fact that you have no humility whatsoever makes me want to beat you with sharp objects. Enough said.
- This could just be me, but I believe it should be a standard for all women. Men who post things in their profile description such as “I’m just a typical guy” or “I would describe myself as average” should not be allowed to stay within the realm of consideration. I’m certainly not looking for a guy who thinks he’s fan-freaking-tabulous, but who wants average? You might as well add “dull” and “mediocre” to the list for all I care. At least be interesting.
- Other eliminators include mustaches (because I don’t want to date you if you look like a porn star from 1972), men who insist on saying “baby” or “angel” a lot (you don’t know me, you have no right to shower cheesy endearments on me), and guys with barbed-wire or kanji symbol tattoos (this means you’re trendy, and would probably would have bought me trendy things like giga pets and beanie babies in 1997, and that’s just unoriginal).
At the very least, online dating can provide one with the opportunity to meet some interesting people. Just beware, because for every decent man, there may just be 4 other sex-obsessed, self-absorbed, hopelessly average men with tasteless tattoos waiting for your email.
Friday, February 2, 2007
26 and Single
As a single Christian woman of 26, people always want to know when I plan to get married. By the time my mother was 26, she had been married for several years. By the time she was 27, she had me. I know that when I went off to my school, a Christian college, everyone thought that I was going to leave with two things: A degree and a husband. One out of two isn’t bad, but to be fair, if it were a letter grade, it would be an F.
The problem with being a single Christian woman over the age of 21 is that you start to get The Look, especially from people at church. People start to look at you as though something is wrong with you because you’re single. They don’t know any other single people your age, so they can’t set you up, but they feel instinctively that you should know some single people. And not only that, but these mysterious, invisible single people that you should know and be dating should meet a certain laundry list of required characteristics.
For starters, they must absolutely be Christian. It doesn’t matter that they believe, just that they are. They should also be “pure,” meaning virgin. In addition, they shouldn’t drink or smoke. They should be educated, and they should, if at all possible, resemble Freddy Prinze, Jr. the way he looked on She’s All That before he got that weird haircut. They shouldn’t look at porn. Additionally, they should be interested in all the same things you are (so long as none of them are weird. I mean, come on, you can’t expect a hot guy to role play), they should play a sport, they should want to get involved at church, they should want 2.5 children, and they should make a shitload, preferably in pharmaceuticals or some other career that will get you a house in suburbia with a KitchenAid Mixer and that will someday allow them to donate pews with little memorial plaques on. Probably they should sing, too, so that the two of you can get good, front row seats in Heaven. That’s important. You don’t want to be stuck in the back with all the hippies.
The problem with this list, of course, is that not only is it not anything that I want, it is also not anything that is possible to get. Rich, good looking, Christian singers are the boys my inappropriate dreams are made of, it’s true, but at the end of the day, you can’t snuggle with your dreams. And despite what the people who got married at 21 and are now cooking other people’s food might tell you, snuggling is important. I’ll say it: More important than words on pages out of a book that was written (by men, no less) long before I was around to enjoy snuggling. Possibly even more important than a picket fence or pews with little name tags on them, though I never said it.
I’m pseudo-dating a guy right now, and while the “R” word has been dropped, I am still officially single, and yeah, sometimes he annoys me. But at the end of the day, he thinks the stars shine just for me. He would give me the last vanilla cupcake with sprinkles, especially if I pouted, because he hates to see me sad. If that isn’t true love, I don’t know what is. I mean, there are not many I would give up vanilla cupcakes with sprinkles for. He puts up with all my eccentricities (i.e., refusing to do dishes until the counter looks like it will require a hazmat team to clean it up and the fact that my bathroom sink hasn’t drained properly the entire time I’ve known him). However he has two big strikes against him: He doesn’t read, and he’s not a Christian, both of which are incredibly important to me.
Now to be fair, I am the uber-liberal variety of Christian that got myself censored from Craigslist because no one thinks it’s possible to be a liberal Christian. I take the Bible at its word when it says, “Everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial,” which means that I listen to the first half and take the consequences of the second because life is too damned short not to enjoy it while you’re in your 20s. The odds are high that the kind of guy I am looking for is not out there. I want someone who’s going to push the envelope while still being religious, and I suspect that if that’s what I really want, then what I really want may not be a Christian yet.
I can’t deny that the Bible says not to be unequally yoked, but when it comes to that, I’m not such a good teammate anyway. Maybe it’s time to pull beside someone who at least seems to be going in the same direction for now.
And at the end of the day, if the candidate in question meets all your personal requirements (loyal, owns a Harley, makes good money, cares about his family, worships you and the ground you walk on and probably the mantle and core of the earth beneath where you stand, likes the same geeky things that you like [minus a few key ones that you can win him over on], doesn’t drink [which is better than you’re doing], doesn’t smoke [which is good cause you have asthma], is a virgin [more so than you are], thinks all your personal faults are adorable [even though they aren’t] and just generally makes you feel like a million bucks every time he touches you), then how important is it if he doesn’t meet all of everyone else’s requirements?
And how important is it if he doesn’t meet all of yours? Specifically, if he’s not a Christian, but he’s the closest thing to it you’ve pretty much ever dated even though he doesn’t sing tenor in the choir on Sundays and thinks religion is a waste of time, then do you go with it or dump him on principle? Or do you go with him with glee and resign yourself to heavenly nosebleed seats amongst the hippies?
I’m not sure.
I’m just not sure.
The problem with being a single Christian woman over the age of 21 is that you start to get The Look, especially from people at church. People start to look at you as though something is wrong with you because you’re single. They don’t know any other single people your age, so they can’t set you up, but they feel instinctively that you should know some single people. And not only that, but these mysterious, invisible single people that you should know and be dating should meet a certain laundry list of required characteristics.
For starters, they must absolutely be Christian. It doesn’t matter that they believe, just that they are. They should also be “pure,” meaning virgin. In addition, they shouldn’t drink or smoke. They should be educated, and they should, if at all possible, resemble Freddy Prinze, Jr. the way he looked on She’s All That before he got that weird haircut. They shouldn’t look at porn. Additionally, they should be interested in all the same things you are (so long as none of them are weird. I mean, come on, you can’t expect a hot guy to role play), they should play a sport, they should want to get involved at church, they should want 2.5 children, and they should make a shitload, preferably in pharmaceuticals or some other career that will get you a house in suburbia with a KitchenAid Mixer and that will someday allow them to donate pews with little memorial plaques on. Probably they should sing, too, so that the two of you can get good, front row seats in Heaven. That’s important. You don’t want to be stuck in the back with all the hippies.
The problem with this list, of course, is that not only is it not anything that I want, it is also not anything that is possible to get. Rich, good looking, Christian singers are the boys my inappropriate dreams are made of, it’s true, but at the end of the day, you can’t snuggle with your dreams. And despite what the people who got married at 21 and are now cooking other people’s food might tell you, snuggling is important. I’ll say it: More important than words on pages out of a book that was written (by men, no less) long before I was around to enjoy snuggling. Possibly even more important than a picket fence or pews with little name tags on them, though I never said it.
I’m pseudo-dating a guy right now, and while the “R” word has been dropped, I am still officially single, and yeah, sometimes he annoys me. But at the end of the day, he thinks the stars shine just for me. He would give me the last vanilla cupcake with sprinkles, especially if I pouted, because he hates to see me sad. If that isn’t true love, I don’t know what is. I mean, there are not many I would give up vanilla cupcakes with sprinkles for. He puts up with all my eccentricities (i.e., refusing to do dishes until the counter looks like it will require a hazmat team to clean it up and the fact that my bathroom sink hasn’t drained properly the entire time I’ve known him). However he has two big strikes against him: He doesn’t read, and he’s not a Christian, both of which are incredibly important to me.
Now to be fair, I am the uber-liberal variety of Christian that got myself censored from Craigslist because no one thinks it’s possible to be a liberal Christian. I take the Bible at its word when it says, “Everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial,” which means that I listen to the first half and take the consequences of the second because life is too damned short not to enjoy it while you’re in your 20s. The odds are high that the kind of guy I am looking for is not out there. I want someone who’s going to push the envelope while still being religious, and I suspect that if that’s what I really want, then what I really want may not be a Christian yet.
I can’t deny that the Bible says not to be unequally yoked, but when it comes to that, I’m not such a good teammate anyway. Maybe it’s time to pull beside someone who at least seems to be going in the same direction for now.
And at the end of the day, if the candidate in question meets all your personal requirements (loyal, owns a Harley, makes good money, cares about his family, worships you and the ground you walk on and probably the mantle and core of the earth beneath where you stand, likes the same geeky things that you like [minus a few key ones that you can win him over on], doesn’t drink [which is better than you’re doing], doesn’t smoke [which is good cause you have asthma], is a virgin [more so than you are], thinks all your personal faults are adorable [even though they aren’t] and just generally makes you feel like a million bucks every time he touches you), then how important is it if he doesn’t meet all of everyone else’s requirements?
And how important is it if he doesn’t meet all of yours? Specifically, if he’s not a Christian, but he’s the closest thing to it you’ve pretty much ever dated even though he doesn’t sing tenor in the choir on Sundays and thinks religion is a waste of time, then do you go with it or dump him on principle? Or do you go with him with glee and resign yourself to heavenly nosebleed seats amongst the hippies?
I’m not sure.
I’m just not sure.
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