Wishing, and Waiting, and Hoping, and Praying

Many years ago I was talking to a male friend, and he described one of our mutual female acquaintances as "boy crazy." It irked me at the time, but I let it pass because it wasn't really the time/place to get into a feminist rant (though, with age, I've come to realize that almost any time and place can accommodate the occasional feminist rant). "Boy crazy" is a way to dismiss women for not showing the appropriate level of interest in romantic relationships. Women can also, of course, be described as "frigid" and "too picky" - it's a really fine line to walk between seeming available and being too available - how does one even navigate this? 

As a perennially single Mormon woman, I probably spend too much time wondering about the "appropriate" level of time/thought/energy to my single status - have I given up? Am I obsessing if I spend a few hours swiping through dating apps? No matter what my answer is, it always seems to be the wrong one - I appear to be trying too hard or not hard enough.

Another experience from a few years ago: I was having dinner with family. The restaurant seated us at an eight person table - two seats for my parents; two seats for one of my brothers and his wife; two seats for my other brother and his then fiancé (now wife), and one seat for me - of course, this only added up to seven, so there was an empty seat next to me. I started to think: is that seat going to be empty forever? Given my current age and the life expectancy of Americans, I probably have another few decades of life on this earth ahead of me, at least. Part of me spiraled a little bit inside during that dinner: am I forever going to be the single one at this table (and all the other tables)? It feels like staring down decades of loneliness as I look to the future.

Logically, I know I am worthy of love - every human being is. But I can't help but feel like I am missing some essential characteristic that makes me attractive to members of the opposite sex. I don't mean to say that I am the sexiest or best person on the planet, in fact I am far from either. Just, sometimes it hurts to feel like there is no one in my life who chose me - a person who thinks I'm great not because I'm a good friend or because they are obligated to love me because of family connections, but someone who sees a potential future with me. I've never had a serious romantic relationship, and it feels like it must be my fault (and I'm sure, in many ways, it is).

Of course, part of what makes this hard is that I feel churlish complaining about it. I don't want my married friends/family to feel guilty or bad about being married - I'm happy for them! Likewise, in the grand scheme of life options on this planet, I have by far one of the easiest lives - I have food, shelter, transportation, health, loving family members who care about me, enough money to support myself, etc. It seems silly to complain and moan about my "single blessedness" when other people are struggling with far greater challenges.

Not to mention, "a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle" - I know that my self worth is not tied to being found desirable by men. I know this, and yet, still I yearn: I yearn to have a boyfriend/husband to share my life with and lie down with at the end of a long day. I want this so badly it hurts sometimes. And I don't know where to put that pain - it would be a lot easier if I truly didn't care. And sometimes that is what I want - to just be numb to this desire - to have it be taken away would be so much easier than caring. 

I think about a line from the musical Wicked a lot. Idina Menzel's character, Elphaba, is lusting after Fiero, a character who is dating her best friend. She sings a song "I'm Not That Girl" recognizing that she's not the pretty/popular girl who gets the guy. One line cuts me deep each time I hear it: "Don't wish/too hard/wishing only wounds the heart." To me, it speaks of the pain of wishing, with no actual hope of success. I wish I didn't identify with that sentiment. In the meantime, I'll just be over here, trying not to wish (which yes, I know makes me the continued queen-of-non-emotionally-healthy-responses to difficult topics).

Anyway today this was on my mind - usually I'm pretty successful in pushing it out of my mind and not thinking about it. I don't want it to consume my life, but some days I give in to a pity party and feel sorry for myself. If you've made it this far, thanks for reading.

Title of this post is taken from the great Dusty Springfield song.