A few years ago, I discovered that there is little worse than a blind date. I had no idea that an acquaintance of mine was going to trot out the one Christian man she knew at a last minute tea. My afro was a sad state of affairs, and I was in a floral dress best suited for a church picnic than a meeting with a man I didn’t know.
From the cloud of cologne that I smelled as he entered the room, I realized that he knew that this was a set up. I had not been warned!!!!
I engaged in the conversation, although I felt soggy (it was raining outside) and tired. I, unsurprisingly, depended upon my sense of humor to make up for my lack of beauty. We never spoke again, and I buried that experience in a shoebox of shameful memories.
In my ideal world, we wouldn’t need online dating or speed dating, or matchmaking services. We would all just show up at interesting dinner parties and fall in love with the right person. But I live in the 21st century. I am almost never invited to dinner parties, and when I do, everyone is partnered and says great things like, “I wish I had someone for you!”
I then entertain the party by trotting out the story of my latest catastrophic date.
My best friend often points out that, back in the day, even the craziest people got married. These days, there are so many wonderful, intelligent, good looking men and women who are remarkably single. I don’t know why we’re single, but we are. I’m romantic enough to still hope for love at first sight, but slightly jaded after years of dating.
I turn 29 next Monday. My eggs, as I joke, are getting wrinkly. I want to fall in love and get married and have children. (And write lots of books). But strangely enough, I’ve slowed down. I have accepted, leaned into and embraced my single status. I really trust God to send me the right guy. I’ve had glimpses of what true love might look and feel like. And I’m excited to be loved and be in love.
But it has to be right. I’m not willing to rush into a relationship for the sake of having somebody. When I was younger, I thought I’d be married or in a serious relationship by 28. And I thought that if I wasn’t, I’d feel a deep sense of shame, as though something is terribly wrong with me.
I’ve learned, however, that I’m fine. (Of course I’m not perfect–no one is.) My single status is not a reflection of my self worth. My singleness doesn’t mean that I’m a failure. My singleness doesn’t mean that I am not loved.
My future boyfriend/fiance/husband will not define my worth. He will, hopefully, add to my life. Only Jesus defines my worth. My worth was determined at the cross, where Jesus, the Son of God, died for my sins, and was resurrected.
So…single or not, I’m priceless.