I hear that desperation is an unattractive quality…*shrugs shoulders*
By the way…I’m single. I’m single. I’m SINGLE, world! In case you were curious.
With that said though, I have less hope than I did last year that I’ll actually get married. I just don’t know if I want to. Ok. DUH. I want to. But I don’t know if I want to. Look, I don’t see how this could be confusing for you at all.
It’s just all too exhausting to hear about, think about, pray about, and hope about right now.
Similar to how I felt in January of this year, I think I’m at that point again where I’m tapping out.
Los Angeles is a weird city for love, but I’m quite sure every major city in the world would say the same thing.
Alone together.
It’s so stupid.
Millions of people wanting to connect, wanting to be known, to experience true intimacy beyond sex. And yet, there’s a great divide—an ugly chasm that few are able to cross.
I know you taste the hint of my salty Bitter Betty seasoning.
Nothing came from my out-of-state crush that I wrote to you about a couple months back. In fact, in true Patrice form, I may have overstayed my welcome and embarrassed myself a little.
You know when you’re talking to someone you’re attracted to, and you try to leave space and silence in the conversation for that person to say… “Why, yes, I want to see you again, in fact, I want to take you out. Because I think you could be the mother of my children...” Okay. That last bit was strictly for me, but you get the idea.
Well, not only did he *not say those words, but I was given the no-contact and no-texts back treatment.
Well beautiful sir. I hear your silence loud and clear.
Hope deferred.
And seemingly ‘unchosen’.
You’d think this sort of rejection gets easier, and yes I do bounce back—but I have to acknowledge to my heart that I did care and did hope, and that’s a beautiful big deal. And yes, the outcome delivered a dose of grief to my heart, but I never want to become numb to my own heart and the things that God is speaking to me in the midst of my pain.
The Word says, “He came to heal the brokenhearted…” So in essence, I won’t remain brokenhearted if I acknowledge and bring my pain to God.
I know this to be true by personal experience. The healing is real—it’s tangible and redemptive. And I come out on the other side, skipping and singing new songs of hope, with a heart enlarged and ready to love again. It’s nothing short of a breath-taking miracle.
But meanwhile, no one's had any idea about my current thought process. And of course, I get words like, “Your husband is coming…your wedding is going to be amazing…let’s pray for your romance story to begin…etc. etc.”
If you try one of those lines on me right now, I may just punch you in the mouth.
Three days ago, I got back from England. And I thought, once again, “Wow, I could seriously be in love.”
I know. My life seems to be full of so many incredible juxtapositions.
I met so many amazing people there. And I literally felt like I was in love with everyone I saw.
And so I gave space to one individual in particular.
I wanted to know what he would do in the silence.
I love awkward silences. Just when they’re not awkward, but rather, when a person knows how to fill it calmly with their presence.
And as he and I stood face to face, I waited.
And then I think to myself…who wants to do long distance romance anyway? That sounds horrible.
And I start to become less and less invested…unless he asks……… then of course I’m all in. Naturally.
But nothing.
And our stand-off becomes a quick cordial friend-zone type of good-bye.
I was almost tempted to grab his face and kiss him, just to see what would happen.
But I refrained.
I simply acted *extra friend-zone friendly, so he wouldn’t think I was actually attracted to him. #selfpreservation
So now, no one is the wiser…
It’s just that I so badly want to be kissed--Gently, intently, and within the realm of commitment and covenant. Not to be mistaken for a sloppy make-out session with a drunk guy from a bar or a co-worker (both have been offered at one point in time…)
But rather kissed under the moonlight, with Otis Redding’s, “Try a Little Tenderness” playing faintly in the background, with the scent of peace and rest swirling in the air around us…
If not for me tonight, perhaps for you…
My faith for your love story grows. Even in the midst of my own wrestling. It’s a weird thing actually. I’m not quite sure how that happens. But I often pray for you and that your heart would find a place of rest, purpose, and romance as you have the privilege of waking up on this side of heaven.
I can’t make it happen for you.
And you cannot make it happen for me.
But you can be with me.
And I can be with you.
And isn’t that what makes life bearable and dare I say…enjoyable at the oddest of times.
Even in the midst of what might seem reckless or random.
We still get to cling to one another.
Like silk touching skin.
Like purple turning blue.
Like waves caught in shells.
An understanding understood.
That warm faint--- and up-ahead light.
Breathing past the dissonance.
Is the tenderness I’m embracing tonight.
Wisdom’s Knocking:
“Oh she may be weary
Them young girls they do get wearied
Wearing that same old shaggy dress,
But when she gets weary
Try a little tenderness”
--Otis Redding, “Try a Little Tenderness”
(Writers: Jimmy Campbell, Reg Connelly and Harry M. Woods)
Video Link: https://youtu.be/UnPMoAb4y8U