I always thought I’d be absolutely wonderful at a long distance relationship. Having been on my own for so long, I was convinced that my independent nature and propensity for solitude and low maintenance sensibility was the recipe for finding … Continue reading
I always had this image of what my perfect guy would be like. Not dating for the first 25 years of my life gave ample time for my imagination to run wild. I crafted a fairy tale hero that would … Continue reading
I don’t write much about dating or relationships. It’s not really my thing, especially considering the last date I went on was never (or maybe once in a dream I barely remember…). I’ve had a couple almosts and a few I wishes, but relationships seems to elude me. Maybe some day when the time is right and the man is right and everything kind of comes together in that special way.
But I’ve seen my friends date. I’ve seen them date well and I’ve seen them date poorly. I’ve watched them suffer through hell and I’ve watched them end up at the altar with a start to their real life happy ever after. And of course, I’ve seen the movies, watched the tv shows, and read the books. Dating is everywhere. Apparently all the kids are doing it these days. (But seriously, sometimes I think my 9 year old sister will go on a date before me…)
So I won’t offer “advice”. Just my thoughts on this whole thing as an objective third party with no personal experience whatsoever. Here you go: Cassi Clerget on dating!
1. Tell him/her how you feel.
Guessing games are the worst. Continue reading
I never dated in college (or high school…or after college…or ever…) and I assumed that was because something was wrong with me. I was convinced something about me made me undateable, because what other explanation could there be? I watched my friends date nice guys and not so nice guys, and I waited for my turn. I had crushes, of course; there were a few young men who turned my head and brought a little smile to my face. But nothing happened, because nothing ever happened. Not to me.
So it was easy to stand in front of a mirror and tell myself that if parts of me were different then I would find love. I was the common denominator in my non-existent romances, after all. Maybe if I was skinnier or taller or had green eyes then I would find a man. Maybe if I was more of a party girl and less of an academic. Maybe if I was more religious or less reserved and quiet. Maybe if I had more tattoos and piercings or cared less about my family. Maybe if I watched different tv shows or read different books. Maybe if I wore shorter dresses or tighter pants or heels. Maybe if I didn’t wear glasses or a purity ring then love would find me. Maybe maybe maybe… Continue reading
I remember the first time I had to watch a man I liked fall for someone else. He was kind and intelligent and she was confident and beautiful, and I was the friend who saw it unfold like a hesitant story written on fragile pages I couldn’t touch. I was happy and devastated all at once, and the heart of a 19 year old woman is not easily mended. So I waited for my turn, my chance at falling head over heels for a hero of my own.
I spent much of my life waiting for a man to find me, too much. Singleness was never something I wore comfortably, and I think that it is because singleness isn’t really something we’re comfortable with. In a culture of romantic comedies and happy ever afters, not being in a relationship is seen as an undiagnosed disease that must be treated. In a religion that seems to express the idea that I’m not complete without a man to make me whole—one flesh—I’m occupying some sort of grey area. People don’t know what to do with me.
Being an unattached, satisfied, happy, content, ambitious, independent woman (or man) is an ubiquitous anomaly. I make people uncomfortable. It’s kind of entertaining. Until people start talking about ChristianMingle…
The way the Church talks about singleness can hurt, leaving scars and brokenness in its wake. And I can say that as a young woman who spent years believing her worth as a person was dependent on having a man by her side. Who thought her singleness was something to be undone or embarrassed of. Who thought being single meant being deficient and unloved.
We don’t talk about being content or happy or delighting in ourselves and the love of our Father. We don’t talk about loving ourselves. We talk about waiting for our other half. We use the wrong words, and they only make us feel smaller and smaller in a world of couples.
The language we use perpetuates a false belief. We are bad at discussing singleness and relationships. Being single is seen as a stepping stone to something else, a state of flux. We talk about needing a boyfriend/girlfriend or wanting a spouse. Language does us a disservice here in the same way there just aren’t enough words and nuances and shadings to describe love. Single people don’t know how to talk about a future relationship without sounding desperate or greedy. The words that are left to us don’t do our dreams justice; they leave much unsaid and overlooked. They imply things that aren’t true.
“Need” implies I’m missing something without one. That I’m less of a woman without a man at my side and in my life. Without a man, I’m not complete or finished. I’m not enough. I need a man to be whole, to be not single, to be what I’m meant to be.
“Want” implies a feeling of entitlement. Of unwarranted deserving. Like a man is a toy I can summon with the right word because I am owed one. I want a man in the way I want nice clothes, a fancy car, a good credit score, a house on the beach. Like he’s a thing on my shopping list or letter to Santa. An object. A thing I throw a tantrum over.
Neither are true. Honestly, I don’t “need” a man and I don’t “want” a man. I don’t require a relationship and I am not insufficient without a boyfriend. A spouse is not essential or necessary to my life.
We’ve let being single become the absence of something. Like dark is the absence of light or cold is the absence of heat. A negative space of nothingness. But there is no emptiness in me waiting to be filled; a void that means I’m less.
Because if my worth rests in a God who loves me unconditionally and a man can’t fix my issues, why is being single seen as something to be tolerated and done away with rather than enjoyed?
We all have seasons in our life, different chapters in our story. And if I believe that where I am in this moment of my life is exactly where God intends for me to be, then I believe my singleness has a purpose. There is a reason, even if I don’t fully understand it, for me being unattached. Perhaps I’m not ready, perhaps he’s not ready, or perhaps we’re both ready but we aren’t in the same city because life is complicated and baffling and sometimes there is no real explanation for being single for 25 years other than it is God’s plan and I need to trust Him. This is the story I’ve been given, and it is wonderful and lovely and my very own.
But I could go farther and suggest that singleness—mine or yours—doesn’t even need to have a purpose; it doesn’t need to be justified or explained. I am single because I’m single. It doesn’t define who I am or determine my worth or hold me back from living the incredible life I’ve been given.
So I’m trying to use different words when I talk about my someday love. Words that don’t disregard the life I have now, the amazing story I’m living in this moment. Words that aren’t tinged with feelings of empty desperation. Words that encourage happiness in the present while also looking forward with hopeful eyes.
Someday, I would love to share my life with a man. I hope that I can know love; that I can feel it to my bones and in his kiss on my skin, hear it in our soft sighs that echo through my soul, see it in how our hands fit together. I dream of adventures we’ll take. I wonder what fights we will have and mistakes we will make. I pray that I will slowly, beautifully, and irrevocably fall in love with my best friend, with the man with whom I am my complete self.
Because being single doesn’t mean you are missing a piece of yourself. God doesn’t create half people or half souls or hearts that will never know love. He creates masterpieces. You are His masterpiece, wholly complete in Christ, and He loves and adores you.
So today I dare you to hope for a someday love, but I also dare you to be happy in this moment. I dare you to live and experience everything around you. I dare you to be single: to let go of “need” and “want” and to love yourself.
Thank you for reading! And maybe (definitely) follow me on Twitter >> @cassiclerget.
I’m pretty entertaining.