“I see people my age…getting married to people
they’ve known for like a year and a half. A year and a half? Is that
enough time to get to know someone to know you want to spend the REST of
your life with them? I’ve had sweaters for a year and a half and I was
like ‘What the fuck was I doing with this sweater?" ~Aziz Ansari, Modern Romance
I just finished this delightful gem of a book #summerreadsbook2, and truly, I enjoyed the heck out of it. I am dying to get my friends to read it, so we can discuss, of course all of my friends are married, and I bet they'll be thanking their lucky stars that they are by the time they finish. So perhaps instead I need to discuss this with a worldly single friend who maybe gets this whole 2016 dating scene a little better than I, but alas, I will take to my tiny little corner of the internet and share what I think about the scary truths presented in this tale.
First of all, yikes! I don't think Aziz set out to scare his single readers, but man oh man, dating now, feels like the most undesirable thing ever. For starters, I guess I should remind myself and my few and far between readers that I reside in a comfortable station of singleness. It is very much a chosen singleness, mostly because I am not the biggest fan of dating and am not too apt at traversing the mysterious lands of 21st century dating. Instead, I wait and I "do me" as my students would say, and hope that someday a good man and I will cross each other's paths and think each to ourselves, my gosh, where the heck has this person been all my life? Wouldn't that be romantic? I envision us meeting across stacks of potatoes, or in front of red meat at the grocery store, or perhaps while perusing books at barnes and noble, or maybe at dog beach while our pups play about, or one Sunday he will take the seat next to me at church and we'll just know. Or I suppose I can be taken by surprise some other way, but since that about sums up my life, I don't really see how else it will happen unless I start doing the things Ansari notes are the ways of meeting and dating nowadays.
This book did not inspire me to take up tinder, or match, or instagram stalk a potential date. Instead it led me to believe that might be the most unlikely and dismal way to find a potential mate. So I accept my singleness as I am, as it is. And really, I am okay. Sure a girl in her early thirties ought to probably be a little more proactive considering my baby making years are lessening each passing day, but here I am feeling as unrushed as ever to find my man. I suppose I can chalk that up to hope.
To be honest, when I closed the cover of Modern Romance, I cried. I cried for awhile actually. This wasn't just stream of tears crying, but rather heaving sobs. What unleashed from within was this knot of deep seated fears and the unruly emotions that have been wound tightly to them.
I let go and gave in hoping to find their root. I came back to a similar statement I've lamented in a recent post and that is this: I am not the most important person to any human being on this planet that is living.
This fear is very real. I took comfort recently when I watched The Intern starring Anne Hathaway and Robert Deniro. The following scene is beautiful, albiet not the best version, but you get the jist:
I love how vulnerable she is in this scene. It is indeed a scary sidebar, but she puts a voice to a real and weighty fear, no matter how ridiculous it might feel to say it aloud. We all fear aloneness. We do. I imagine there are a lot of married and loved people out there who feel what I feel.
What I came to realize is that the fulfillment that I am seeking, the love I think I need, the idea of being so important to somebody, will never be found in a person I strike up a conversation with in the grocery store, or the man I meet on match.com. I can see myself ten years down the road with a ring on my finger and two kids to boot, and that nagging fear being stirred up again, because my husband's job is more important and my kids treat me like shit, and I'll find myself seeking out the dog for that unconditional affection (which is pretty stellar by the way).
The point is, when I came out of the emotional tailspin my reaction to Modern Romance sent me spinning down, I realized this is not where God intended me to reside. My life, romantic life or not, will not be dictated by the rules of dating in 2016. My personal history with men and friends does not write my future story.
Rejection and bad dates do not define my person. When I got to this truth I realized that was another piece of the emotional puzzle that had been plaguing me. I recently went on a blind date with a man a co-worker of mine set me up with. The timing of it all seemed perfect. I had a deep respect for my co-worker, therefore felt that his friends and his judge of character to be of quality. So I agreed. My blind date did not want to meet in person right away. Instead he wanted to get to know one another via email, then phone conversation, with a bit of texting thrown in. All seemed well. I felt like I was getting to know a good man. More than that, I felt hope. That hope that somewhere in my heart spoke that this was the good man I had been waiting for. And then, a few weeks in, we met. After that, silence. To be fair, the silence was on both our ends. He never reached out again, and I did not have the desire to either. Regardless, that slightly stinging rejection weighs in and thinks, how dare he not like me! In reality what existed on paper between us, and what had been cultivated on the phone fizzled out in person to person meeting. Something told me that this guy, well, he actually wasn't it.
After that, I kind of gave up on the idea of the mysterious him that may or may not exist. Barring set ups though I really began to wonder how the heck we would ever find each other. But one thing I can most assuredly say, as of today, beyond a shadow of doubt, I am contentedly single. I don't want to settle for the boring blind date. I don't want to put myself out there in the way that modern romance dictates. Tinder and match seem to say, "Hey, I am ready to throw down." Which, dear sir, I am not.
My best date happened in December of 2013. Yikes, almost three years ago! I met a man in the grocery store parking lot who saw me struggling with my many grocery bags. As the baguette and wine bottle started to slip, he stepped into save the day, literally. He carried them to my car and what followed was, well the best damn thing a woman could hear. He asked me to dinner and I said yes. He was bold and I liked that. He thought I was beautiful, and well, it's nice to hear, because so many guys seem to want to keep that idea to themselves if it is what they are thinking.
A few nights later we ate dinner together at a quaint Mexican joint and I was on cloud nine. And then, he suggested we take things to his place, and when I made it clear where I stood on how the rest of the night would go, his face fell. We agreed their was physical attraction brewing and we agreed that we had fun, that we laughed, that we enjoyed ourselves, but this is where it would end. Too different we were. And yet, it still stands as a great date, and well, he is still a good guy in my book, just was not the guy for me.
So, here is where I proceed. Modern romance and I, well we don't mix too well. And maybe blind dates aren't my thing, but I won't say no to the next offer. And the hope of a good man, I'll hold onto that, probably until my dying day. And in the meantime, I'll fight for the contentment that I can so wondrously have in my season of singleness.
This fear is very real. I took comfort recently when I watched The Intern starring Anne Hathaway and Robert Deniro. The following scene is beautiful, albiet not the best version, but you get the jist:
I love how vulnerable she is in this scene. It is indeed a scary sidebar, but she puts a voice to a real and weighty fear, no matter how ridiculous it might feel to say it aloud. We all fear aloneness. We do. I imagine there are a lot of married and loved people out there who feel what I feel.
What I came to realize is that the fulfillment that I am seeking, the love I think I need, the idea of being so important to somebody, will never be found in a person I strike up a conversation with in the grocery store, or the man I meet on match.com. I can see myself ten years down the road with a ring on my finger and two kids to boot, and that nagging fear being stirred up again, because my husband's job is more important and my kids treat me like shit, and I'll find myself seeking out the dog for that unconditional affection (which is pretty stellar by the way).
The point is, when I came out of the emotional tailspin my reaction to Modern Romance sent me spinning down, I realized this is not where God intended me to reside. My life, romantic life or not, will not be dictated by the rules of dating in 2016. My personal history with men and friends does not write my future story.
Rejection and bad dates do not define my person. When I got to this truth I realized that was another piece of the emotional puzzle that had been plaguing me. I recently went on a blind date with a man a co-worker of mine set me up with. The timing of it all seemed perfect. I had a deep respect for my co-worker, therefore felt that his friends and his judge of character to be of quality. So I agreed. My blind date did not want to meet in person right away. Instead he wanted to get to know one another via email, then phone conversation, with a bit of texting thrown in. All seemed well. I felt like I was getting to know a good man. More than that, I felt hope. That hope that somewhere in my heart spoke that this was the good man I had been waiting for. And then, a few weeks in, we met. After that, silence. To be fair, the silence was on both our ends. He never reached out again, and I did not have the desire to either. Regardless, that slightly stinging rejection weighs in and thinks, how dare he not like me! In reality what existed on paper between us, and what had been cultivated on the phone fizzled out in person to person meeting. Something told me that this guy, well, he actually wasn't it.
After that, I kind of gave up on the idea of the mysterious him that may or may not exist. Barring set ups though I really began to wonder how the heck we would ever find each other. But one thing I can most assuredly say, as of today, beyond a shadow of doubt, I am contentedly single. I don't want to settle for the boring blind date. I don't want to put myself out there in the way that modern romance dictates. Tinder and match seem to say, "Hey, I am ready to throw down." Which, dear sir, I am not.
My best date happened in December of 2013. Yikes, almost three years ago! I met a man in the grocery store parking lot who saw me struggling with my many grocery bags. As the baguette and wine bottle started to slip, he stepped into save the day, literally. He carried them to my car and what followed was, well the best damn thing a woman could hear. He asked me to dinner and I said yes. He was bold and I liked that. He thought I was beautiful, and well, it's nice to hear, because so many guys seem to want to keep that idea to themselves if it is what they are thinking.
A few nights later we ate dinner together at a quaint Mexican joint and I was on cloud nine. And then, he suggested we take things to his place, and when I made it clear where I stood on how the rest of the night would go, his face fell. We agreed their was physical attraction brewing and we agreed that we had fun, that we laughed, that we enjoyed ourselves, but this is where it would end. Too different we were. And yet, it still stands as a great date, and well, he is still a good guy in my book, just was not the guy for me.
So, here is where I proceed. Modern romance and I, well we don't mix too well. And maybe blind dates aren't my thing, but I won't say no to the next offer. And the hope of a good man, I'll hold onto that, probably until my dying day. And in the meantime, I'll fight for the contentment that I can so wondrously have in my season of singleness.
1 comment:
Interesting post. I remember being single so clearly sometimes - I had almost resigned myself to not meeting anybody, and had pretty much given up trying, when of course the inevitable happened. It is hard though - picking yourself up again and again. And going out with all your old single friends who are suddenly couples is so damn difficult (and they have no clue).
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