I realized something the other day. I don’t have a Valentine this year. And that should come as no shock….I’m single. But the part that was shocking to me was thinking back over the years, and realizing that even though I have dated a lot and come close to walking down the isle with a person….somehow I haven’t had a date for Valentines Day since I was like 2o. Seriously!

Is it realistic to think that a person could date on and off throughout her life, and consequently, somehow be single before February hits? I want to feel jipped…except for the part where I don’t.

This year, I find myself in a really awkward place when it comes to dating, men, and heart shaped boxes of candy. See, between loosing my job in November, and ending a decently great relationship – I feel that I am in a state of flux. You could almost say that it has spurred on a re-inventing of myself. Except, I don’t feel like I had myself “wrong” before, I just feel like I am getting myself more “right” than I have ever had it before. Even my roomate made the comment tonight, “Wow, it just seemed that you are really confident and comfortable with who you are – not just in your identity, but who you are as a professional career woman.”

That was really refreshing to hear.

Where Valentines comes in is like this – my neighbor upstairs just got engaged today. My roommate is most likely going to be engaged before the summer….along with like 3 of my close friends. And not just that I feel “left out” of the dating band-wagon, but there are moments in my life when I look around, and I am just struck with this core realization that feels like, “Man, its a tragedy that it is just me in this. I’d LOVE to have someone at just this moment.”

I’m not lonely in the way that I want someone to hug or to kiss or something. It’s more fundamental than that. It seems that I have a lot going on, and somehow it feels weird climbing into my king sized bed alone every night.

But, it’s a tension.

There are moments, when I am reaching into who I am as a writer, a designer, a creative, as a girl standing in the pouring rain, as a climber, as a runner, as a professional, as an unemployed woman, as an independent person, as a broke person scared shitless – there are moments where another person would just  wreck  it. It’s gorgeous because it’s just me and the wind – you know?

I have resolved to this: I’m not against dating right now. Self admittedly, I would love to have a man in my life. But, I’m realizing that I’m beautiful, and interesting, and incredibly busy getting on with my crazy, scary, unexplainable adventure of a life. And if a beautiful man walks in the door that is nothing short of wonderful – a true gentleman, lovely and in pursuit of something genuine – I’m in with both feet. But I think if were anything short of that, I might have to just push on my way. There’s a whole world out there waiting. And I’m incredibly excited to introduce it to the woman that I am becoming.

I guess that leaves me Un-valentined this year. Again. And in the beautiful tradgety, I can’t help but smile…just a little bit. 

This past week, a good friend of mine and I drove up to Northern California on a road trip. Being in the car for seven hours lead us to some great conversation about dating. She is in a pretty serious relationship with a man that I think is legit. And as they have encroached on “The M Word” (marriage), it has brought about some difficult, wonderful, and pithy conversation. What I love about my friend is that she is a wholesome girl who hasn’t dated a lot, and so there are moments where she is telling me what to do with my life, and then will turn and say, “So how exactly do I work this out with my man?”

Those are the moments where I actually feel like I bring something intelligent to the friendship, because dating is a subject that I do happen to know a thing or two about. I remember reading somewhere in college that in order to be considered an “Expert” on something, you have to have spent 10 -20 years of your life doing it. Considering that I started dating at the tender age of 12 – I think its fair to stay that I have earned my way into the Expert Category.

Now don’t get me wrong – dating is still a bitch. By nature it is uncomfortable, vulnerable, inconsistent, confusing, and frustrating. And by no means is there a formula when it comes to navigating through the episodes of courtship; I am convinced that one simply gets better at reading the signs, knowing oneself, and communicating to your partner. And obviously being an expert at dating doesn’t mean that you are going to get promoted to fiancee or wife…because I’m still single. And I would merely be self consious of my expertise experience and yet single status, except for the fact that Carrie Bradshaw paved the way for us by being single, an expert dater, and fabulous well into her 40s before she settled with Mr. Big. I’m pretty sure her experience proves that you can be great and dating and still single. In light of  having seen all Sex and the City episodes more that 100 times, I believe that being great at dating means you just get better navigating through the dating world – getting out of bad situations before they get worse, making awkward situations better, and making good situations great ones.

What I did realize through my conversation with my girlfriend is that over the years of bad dates and bleeding hearts, I managed to learn a few things along the way. And the most important tool in my dating arsenal is learning to speak man. Yes, ladies, men speak a completely different language all together. We may be both speaking English, but watch the newest Carl’s Jr. commercials and you will see what I am talking about (”I thought you were taking me out for a steak dinner!”)

I am by no means claiming to be fluent in man – please, I don’t want to brag beyond my credentials. I can however confidently state that I have “Basic Conversational Skills” in Man-Speak.

So ladies, out of my little black dating handbook, here are some suggestions on the way to talk man to your man (and who knows – you might actually get lucky and he will understand what you want!).

1. Men are SIMPLE.

Now, I said simple NOT stupid. I know there are a lot of angry feminist, jaded teenagers, or pissed off divorcees that would love to disagree with me. But despite the sterotype that men are the  perennial cave man, I have to remind us all that men are very capable. Now, given a GOOD man, chances are that they will do almost anything asked of them – especially if by the women that they love. Its just that you have to learn to put it into terms where they can hear you. As women, emotionally we have about 1,000 knobs, switches, buttons. We tend to speak in spaghetti thoughts, combining countless ideas, emotions, and tangents. Our girl friends are amazing at tracking with us, understanding where we are going, and landing at the same conclusions. Men are not mental multitaskers.  If you want your man to track with you and be able to say “Yes!”, you need to keep things simple (think inclusive, clear, logical and concise). Which leads me to point two….

2. No Emotional Vomit

In the middle of my dating “career” (ha – I wish I could have been paid for those years!…unless that would make me a prostitute…in which case never mind….) I came to place where I recognized unhappiness in my relationship, but was really awful at communicating. I am an verbal processor, I need to talk my way through things to find out what I need, what I want, and how to get it. Girls, doing this with your boyfriend is not always the best move. Coming to your man with your eyes welled with tears, and simply blowing emotional chunks on him (come on we’ve all done it), while it may be relieving for you – causes panic in men! Men are fixers. You come to them with a problem, they don’t want to hash it out verbally – they want to get you a solution. And we women don’t want your solutions! We want you to liiiiisten, and to hear us, and to cuddle us and tell us its ok. Now I am NOT saying that your men cannot handle emotions. They should be able to handle when you come to them falling apart. (And guys, when your girl comes to you falling apart you hug her, kiss her, hold her and ask, “what can I do to help you feel better?”) What I am saying is that when you need to hash things out, when you need to talk it through…call your mom, your girlfriend, or your sister. They can handle the hashing, and close it up when the conversation is over. Men on the otherhand, just dont work that way.

3. Tell Him What You Want!

Big mistake I made when I was younger: I wasn’t doing a whole lot of telling. Now women, we’ve all seen 10 Things I Hate About You, where the guy comes in at the end singing, and confessing love, and he seems to know exactly what to say. Let me remind you this is a movie. In my younger years, I used to think that if I guy really liked me and loved me, I wouldn’t have to tell him what I wanted to hear – that he would automatically know the right thing. THIS IS A LIE FROM HOLLYWOOD. Men don’t know that you really want flowers, or to be taken to that new restaurant, or notice that you left a magazine on the coffee table open to the new perfume you wish he would buy for you. You have to tell him, and you have to do it gingerly and nicely. Same thing goes for when you are mad. They just don’t magically read your mind. When he says, “What’s wrong?” And you say, “Nothing.” ..but you really mean, “I want you to ask me 4 more times before I tell you.” – that doesn’t cut it.  You have to say, “Yesterday when you said ’XYZ’ it really hurt my feelings and I am mad at you.” Believe me, these words can be magic.

4. Polished Ideas

This is a somewhat combination of points 1 and 2. Again, men don’t thrive when you emotionally hash out ideas. So when he is doing something that you don’t like, you are angry with something, or you want something to change – you need to bring to him a polished idea. Like I said before, clear and concise information regarding what you don’t like. And that doesn’t mean demanding or nagging. Sometimes it just means saying, “Have you ever thought about this?” and laying your idea or need out there. He might take sometime to process, but a good man that loves you will 99% of the time say “ok!” and change what it is that is bothering you.

5. Follow up to point four – Don’t nag

Like I’d said, it may take some time to process new ideas. One thing that I love about my mother, is there are things that drive her CRAZY about my dad, and they have for years! And my mom has made note of them a few times, but then just let them be. And you know what? Sometimes it has taken a long time, but more often than not, my dad has come around and said, ” You know I am thinking about fixing this.” And my mom simply raises her eyebrow and says, “You know honey, I think that is a wonderful idea.” Talk about patience!

6. Be the cheerleader

This may be one of the most important points to a guy. You need to cheer him on. A man that knows that he is your hero is willing to do anything for you. And I don’t say this to tell you how to manipulate men, that’s ovbiously not the point. I say this because cheering on your man is the emotional “You’re beautiful” that we as women need. We need to be told that we are lovely, beautiful, and stunning. Men need to hear, “You can do it!” They need to be told that in the face of all that opposes them in this world, that we stand behind them. That they are smart enough, capable enough and brave enough to face the challenges of the day. I promise you, if you cheer your man on everyday, you will be amazed at all of the things that he goes after just because you voice your belief in him.

Ok, that’s all the secrets I have for you today. Like I said, I don’t speak fluent man, I simply have a small working knowledge. And hopefully it comes in handy for you in your relationships and marraiges. One can only hope that I get to put this all to good use sometime in the not too distant future.*

 “Well Jenni, when it rains it pours.”

If I had a nickle every time someone has said that to me this week – I wouldn’t be as worried about being poor from my recent unemployment. And yes, the saying is ringing true because not only did I get laid off, but my boyfriend and I broke things off just a day or two ago. And I’m not looking for an Internet lark about how much I miss him or hate him….let’s leave that to the Junior Highers. For the record, it was seen in coming, he is a wonderful guy and unfortunately it was bad timing for the two of us. I’m sad to see him leave my life, but know that he has been nothing short of a gentleman toward me….which I suppose makes ending a relationship feel that much worse. Anyway, not the point.

What is the point is how this layered bad news has suddenly caused a very serious line of questioning in my mind. I’m angry. I’m crazy angry. And not at my ex, or at my job that laid me off. I’m angry I’m back here again – in the valley of life. When my ex first left my house after it was all over – the first thing into my head was simply “SERIOUSLY GOD? HONESTLY.” I mean I would LOVE to loose my job and my boyfriend in the same week – is there anyway that we can make that happen?

-I’m entering disclaimer here: The thoughts that you are about to read are on the bold side. Possibly even pushing the envelope. I’m not trying to be dramatic, or disrespectful. Just being honest and real about what today looks like from my eyes. Read on with caution, and please don’t leave condemning comments about what a blasphemer I am.-

This last year has been hard for me – in fact, the past few years have been hard for me. I’ve even had friends say to me “Man Jenni, this has not been easy for you”  In the course of 2008 I have nearly immigrated to Canada, nearly gotten engaged, nearly changed careers, then suddenly gotten dumped, suddenly NOT moved to Canada, NOT gotten married, and NOT changed careers, I’ve moved 3 times, I’ve started a new job, I’ve gotten laid off, and I’ve just said ‘goodbye’ to quite possibly the heathliest relationship with the most respectful guy that I have ever known. The words “Stripped Bare” come to mind….and shortly on their heels is “What the hell God?”

What the hell God?

The part that makes me angry is where the answer comes saying: we are all here to bring God glory. That people say “He will never give you more than you can handle” and “He knows what he is doing – it will all work out to bring him glory.”

See, that makes me angry. Part of me looks at this whole thing and has to question “Is God a drama queen?” Is there some reason that coming through for me with plenty of time isn’t cool  enough for God – He’s gotta pull some Disneyland Spectacular Firework show of coming through with just what I need in the 11th hour, withthe whole thing on fire and covered with glitter?

He can’t just be ok with me asking “Hey God, I have 8 weeks to find a job” And he says “Sure Jenni, I’m big enough where I don’t need all 8 weeks and won’t make you sweat…I’ll give it to you in two.” I feel like it always has to be this “stripping” experience…where the bottom falls out of my world – where its an 11th hour miracle – where its all fireworks and Fantasia. And part of me is beginning to look at it all in disgust.

 God if this is your glory – I don’t want it. It hurts too much.

I have this cousin, she’s 11 years old. She’s ADHD and an only child, but yet she’s wicked smart – ranking in the college levels. She ’s impulsive from the ADHD, and she talks al ot -  and from being the only child in her house she NEEDS to be the center of attention. If she’s not being listened to as she rambles away or cracks jokes, she gets her feelings hurt. And there were times today where I just looked at her and couldn’t help but ask “God are you the same way?” Are you like some insecure, impulsive, only-child that NEEDS us all to pay attention to you all the time? Where you need to decide that I don’t need a job or a boyfriend….so I’ll have more time to play “Old Maid” with you – like my cousin does? Don’t get me wrong, I love my cousin; she’s sweet and her habits are endearing…but I don’t want my God like that.

I don’t want a God brings glory through making me cry. Who “makes me a person of character” through destroying my life every 12 months. I get it that bad things happen to people – but honestly – I don’tknow anyone who has been as grounded as I have been and yet still has had to deal with this much shit so close together. I feel like I might as well be smoking crack and partying my life away – at least the consequences will feel justified.

But that’s the thing – I don’t want to party my life away. I don’t want drugs. I just want what seems to come so easily to my friends: a job that pays my bills and makes me happy, a man that loves me and likes to take me on fun dates and laugh withme, an interesting life filled with adventures and beauty.

Is that too much to ask?

As mad as this all makes me, I know God isn’t a show off child like my cousin, and he doesn’t need Disney to make his miracles worth it. God is good. He does not simply emulate goodness…the essence of goodness is his being. I know that. And I think I’m ok with thinking these kinds of things because I know that God is big enough to hear them. He’s not going to get his panties in a bunch because I’m asking hard questions. Am I happy with God? Absolutely not. But am I about to curse God, or walk away? Eh, not today. 

The thing is, I’ve realized it’s good to question truth. Because you are never going to be lead away from what is real. And at the end of the day, I’m not looking for a small fake God. I’m looking for the real deal. And if that means having the bottom smashed out of my world, and having me raise my fist and question God’s need to show off - so be it. I’ll be the one who’s bold enough to ask “God are you a dramatic, ADHD, spoiled only child who NEEDS me to be in pain so you can look cool?”

I’m hoping the answer’s no. I’m hoping the answer is that answer is God looks at me and simply says “Jenni, where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Or who laid the cornerstone, while all of the morning stars sang together and the angel’s shouted for joy? Have you every given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn it’s place? Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea, or walked recesses of the deep? Have you entered the store houses of snow, or seen the storehouses of hail? Do you send the lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you, ‘Here we are’?” (Job 38-39)

Because I would rather have that God. A God that is the shit, and wants to create real Fantasia in my life for the purpose of something real; not simply sparkles and drama for the sake of anxiety and excitement. I would feel more ok with saying “ok God” to the one that has the world at his command. 

 I’m still mad. I’m still really hurting. And I don’t know where this whole thing is going – or what God is trying to prove by clearing my life. But I think when you are really mad an hurting, I need God to be the shit. Because if God is just the show off child, I’m more lost than I bargained for.

In my life I have one friend that I have known longer than any other. My friend and I have known each other since we were eight. And unlike most childhood friendships, we weren’t merely forced to play with one another because our parents were friends. We were in the same summer camps, winter camps, bible studies, choir groups, Junior High Retreats, High School bible studies, Small Groups, College Groups (can you tell that we both grew up in the church?)

The thing about my friend – is that she was home schooled…and perfectly  fit the bill for a home schooled girl. Quiet, had some quirks, extremely religious, ULTRA conservative.

Ok excuse the stereotyping…but you catch my drift…

And I suppose, over the years, it seemed to us that life would always follow the same path – her being a sheltered and conservative child, growing into a conservative adult with a conservative husband and conbservative children. But as things go…life will happen to a person. And it did. Especially to her and her family. In our Sophomore year of college some catastrophic events came colliding into her family and her life…for all intensive purposes we can say that her world fell apart. She went from being sheltered and happy to being suddenly forced to dealing with particularly difficult circumstances - and being the oldest of two other sisters, you can imagine that her duties were lined up for her.

For a few years after it all happened, she remained incredibly responsible. She dropped out of school and got a job, trying to go back part time, while keep in touch with her professors. She ensured that here sisters had jobs and places to live. She was scraping just to get by, and ensured that her sisters were scraping by as well.

It seemed suddenly to me that her life took a turn.  Her sisters were a bit older. She no longer needed to hold it together for them…and an opportunity came along for her to move to New York for her dancing. And she packed up her life and went.

She packed up her life and went.

I talked with her this weekend, and I’ve realized that now that she is no longer under the pressures of her life, she has much decided to become a different person. The once Theology Bible College student is now a cocktail waitress at an Irish Pub in the Bronx, and running with characters that usually you see on TV…on Crime Shows. She’s finding that she no longer feels the same way about alot of things….money, alcohol, sexuality, men, religion, God.

She’s finding that she no longer feels the same way about alot of things….money, alcohol, sexuality, men, religion, God.

Now, here’s the part that lands her in my writing. We talked very openly and frankly about the changes that she had decided to undertake in her life. And I of course, it was sad to hear that such a good friend of mine was deciding to make some arguably dangerous and risky decisions. But at the same time, upon knowing her life and all that has happened to her…I wasn’t at all shocked. I understood. There have been times in my life, where if I had been a different person, I would have found anyway to party, drink, sleep around, strip, tattoo, race cars, travel, take drugs, or whatever I could get my hands on to get away from God and the Church. The thing was…I never could find my way to New York or any of those other things. So I stayed right where I was…in the church.

I hung up the phone with her feeling great. Glad that we could have such a good conversation, and glad that I could be so open not only with accepting where she was at – but also giving her fair warning that she was playing with fire. She ave assured me that she knew at some point that she would return to God – she knew too much to completely abandon everything…but just that she wasn’t ready yet. I told her to not be afraid to come bounding back the second she was ready – but in the mean time, to have a buddy, a designated driver, a condom, and some street smarts.

That was Monday morning, And to be honest, the thoughts lightly rolled around in my head for the past few days, until they suddenly hit me like truck – last night while standing alone in my boyfriends bathroom. It was as if 50 tons of grief was poured over my head like cement, gluing my shoes to the very spot on the floor. And as I stood frozen, the hot tears began to pour from eyes as I sobbed uncontrollably. And all the while I am thinking “Absolutely perfect, my new boyfriend is now going to be CONVINCED that I am crazy.”

Crazy or not, what it was not her bad choices that had struck me so deeply. It was simply a deep seeded grief that her life story included tragedies to a degree that bad choices would even seem appealing in comparison. I had no judgement for what she was doing, instead rather it seemed to me like a car speeding down the freeway, and someone had thrown a rock through the windshield. Undoubtedly the car would spin out of control, smash and topple into everything in its path. And it would be no fault of the driver…it would merely be the reaction in the wake of such events. And the idea that we lived in a world where rocks smash through windshields of our close friends was enough to make me feel like I’d been punched in the gut.

And then the words came to me like they’d been spoken right into my ear:

For as much as you are grieved by her life, that much more I am, your Father God grieved for her life? And Jenni, if I am grieved by her bad decisions… how much more is this true of you? Don’t you see that the dark parts of your past is not something that I see as years of streaking shame and filth, but instead as a deep tragedy that happened to you, and your best attempts to deal with the repercussions that left you spinning out of control?

If I hadnt been crying before, I was certainly crying now. And if my boyfriend didn’t think I was crazy before, he certainly thought I was crazy now. Sticking his head in he asked with a bewildered look on his face “Um, are you ok…?” I managed to choke out some lame version of my friend and being sad about her…doing nothing close to justice of the colossal voice that had just been spoken inside of me.

And as the next week has come and gone even, I do not find that I have stumbled upon more clarity to upack this striking truth. During a season where I’ve spent much of my time trying to remind myself of who I am – purely – who I am without my past, my sad stories, my sometimes shameful memories, or even right out lies about my identity, these words have echoed inside my soul. My boyfriend has said it to me before, “Jenni I would love for you to get to a place where you see your life story is something that has happened to you – not something that defines you or defiles you…” Makes me cry everytime.

He’s right on with that thought, and so was God with his ground breaking ideas about the way that he sees my sin and shame. Of course it makes him sad. Yet at the same time – how much does he love talking to me, asking me questions, and seeing me through right in the midst of it? And how is it that he can see right into my heart – not only to see the wrong choices I am making, but the deeper issues that make those choices appealing to begin with? And how can it be that even in the midst of sometimes betraying his love for me, he says “Jenni I am so grieved that we live in a world that causes you pain – pain to the point of sin and self destruction. More than anything I want to weep for the hurts you’ve had to endure.”

Maybe this is something that only reverberates within my own soul. Maybe this is a messages that misses all of you. Maybe I am one of the only ones that lately really has had to struggle and fight to find who I am really and and what I am really defined by.  Maybe I am the only one who thinks that if anyone really knew all of me – even the dark parts of me, that they might leave me. 

Maybe I am the only one who thinks that if anyone really knew all of me – even the dark parts of me, that they might leave me.

Whether or not this even makes sense to you – I can tell you one thing. God seems to have a differing opinion about me and the life I have lived. He doesn’t seem to fall for my rhetoric about who I am and what the world has to  say about me. In fact, this idea seems to be rather important to him. Apparently, He believes this difference is important enough that He had to bring me to my knees in tears one random Wednesday night, while standing alone in my boyfriend’s bathroom.

            For those of you who keep up with me in my personal life, you might have been able to put two and two together over the last few weeks when it comes to the lack of entries in my blog. I haven’t had as much free time these days, because as most of you know…

 I’ve started dating someone

             Now this past week, one of my buddies who is blogrolled on my page, Jeremy Zach, linked me on his page – indicating that he admired me for my astounding relational insights. And truth be told – I literally laughed out loud when I read it – I thought it had to be a joke. After realizing that it was indeed NOT a joke, I have decided that I write about relationships simply because I don’t get them; I don’t understand them. They intrigue me and frustrate me. Even this past week, I was at a 50^th Wedding Anniversary party, with the couple and their eight children, and countless grand and great-grandchildren…and it blew my mind. The mere idea that two people fell in love and decided to stay together forever, and because of their decisions, they have made a place in the world for all of this? As I stood in the middle of the living room in a beautiful beach house down by the beach with party festivities glowing all around…it literally left me staggering.

So, for the person who is awe of relationships to begin with, and then you throw a new man in the mix….whoa. Can I tell you how much amazing blog material I most likely have pushed through in the past few weeks? I probably could have published a novel at this point with all of the new, scary, and interesting things come all balled up inside of the “New Relationship” Package.

And in all of these new ideas and things, I have struggled with how to express it. Normally I have a thought, I let it come to be, and then blog about it. But knowing that my new man reads my blogs – makes it either seem all a bit trite…or emo kid…or inappropriate…or that I am simply committed to writing in a way that is real and raw, despite my auidence. I suppose this is just a side conversation that I dont have completely worked out yet.  Either way – whether this blog makes me a classic “Internet Emotional vomiter” or a great writer…the one single thought that I can’t seem to get away from over the past few weeks is this:

Relationships are Messy

            Astounding I know. My revelations are nothing short of groundbreaking.  But really, I am shocked at how soon it seems like an ocean’s flood of questions come pouring into my mind…all asking me “How do we navigate this?” There are mere moments when I simply resign to the fact that I will most likely drown in it all…my lungs filling up with water as my skin migrates to a soft blue color…all the while,  my vision growing dim and my body growing heavy to slowly sink to the bottom.

            And here is the thing that everyone, including my new man, keeps telling me “Jenni, no one expects you to have it all together. No one expects you to be perfect. We know that everyone has skeletons in the closet, and that things get messy. Relationships are just that…they are messy.”

            Ok. Great. In one ear and out the other. If it is so true that everyone has crap, and that relationships are so messy…why is it that I cannot fight the compulsion to grab and emotional broom and start sweeping? Why is it that I simply would love to go to Barnes&Nobel Online, and find a copy of How to Have the World’s Perfectly Healthy Relationship Without Ever Making a Single Mistake (Author Unknown…haha get it?).

            I can’t handle the messy. I look at it all and see a raging sea of boundaries, time, availability, vulnerability, sex, not sex, balance, finances, family, strategy, knowledge, God, careers, emotional walls, mental walls, disappointments, expectations, idealizations, dysfunctions, procrastinations….retardations…masturbations.. ok – kidding about those last few, but you see why I can easily go from being fine to doused and thrashing an ocean of thoughts.

            It’s when I get to this place, when I feel like I’ve given the hamster 20 oz. of caffeine and then put him on the wheel, that realize…

There’s no way. Maybe what I really want out of life is simply to be a cat lady. 65 years old, smelly, crazy, talking to myself and covered in cat hair.

         I went out to dinner last night with Ang, one of my best friends. It is then, sitting across the table from one other, that she reaches across the table and grabs my hands and says “No Jenni, no you don’t. I know you don’t. And I won’t let you become that. You can do this, and we are right here beside you the whole way.” … ok Ang – talk about the world’s fastest way to make me tear up right at the table.

            But there is something in that that does make me stand back in awe just a little bit. The fact that I have good friends to ask the hard questions, that I have friends that can tell when I am skirting the hard answers. Maybe that’s beauty of good community, of people that really know you’re heart – they can be our guides, our compasses. My grandma had a quote that I think means a lot more in Spanish, but it essentially means the same as “Keeping on foot on the ground.” In Spanish she’d told me “Jenni, necessita una pie en la tierra.” And what I love about that is that in Spanish it directly translates to: one foot in the earth.

And maybe what I am learning is that this is what good people are to me – they are my anchors, they are my roots. They hold me down and keep me from floating away or sinking to the bottom. And just like I’d said in some of my previous blogs, they remind me who I am – what is already true of me and what doesn’t change. They are the voice of God, whispering in my ears what is true of me – who He says that I am – and how I am not to forget that.

New Man, or no man, cracked out hamster on the wheel, cats or no cats – I think as people, we need that. I need that. I need to hold onto my identity in the face of things that challenge me. I need to be reminded of my significance in the ocean of disarray.

One of the major themes that seems to keep popping up in my writing is the idea of commitment. Its a word that somehow seems to get under most of our skin. Even seeing it all typed out in blue like that is enough to make me squirm in my seat just a little. And that is exactly the phenomenon that I am trying to point out. Somehow our culture, or society or moral norms have changed life for us twenty-somethings. We aren’t like our parents, in that most of us couldn’t get married and make a life for our families at 20 or 21. Most of us need (or think we need) until 30 to get it figured out. Now for those of you who read my blog on marriage, you know that I think that it a complicated issue that cant easily be argued one way or the other.

It was a blog from a good friend of mine, Ben Schroff, call “I am Divorced” that began to focus my idea of commitment. And of course, going with the notion that none of us really ever have an original thought, Ben was able to pull much of his thoughts from a speaker with YWAM. Patrick Dodson. If you have a moment to listen to his ideas on relationships- well his ideas on anything really – they are amazing.

But what Patrick and Ben were getting at is the idea that we are incredibly naive and unprepared to deal with life. Statistically speaking directly toward the issue of divorce, by the year 2010 it is projected that 70% of couples will be divorced. Now this means that divorce doesn’t make you a failure at relationships, it simply makes you just like everyone else.

The question that is interestingly proposed by Dodson is “How do you think that you are going to stay married when you get married?” Now, alot of us throw out ideas like “God is at the center of our relationship” or “work through my baggage before we get married.” But to these things Dodson has a challenging response “Dont you think that these 70% already had thought of those things as well?” Clearly, it is a HUGE disservice to Christians and Non-Christians alike to buy the belief that we know something that divorced people dont.

This idea of commitment isn’t something that is solely isolated to marriage either. For those of you who remember my blog on living life, I reference Dr. Irwin, whose book talks about success in the work place being centered around the idea of commitment.  Irwin points out that there is skill involved with success in the workplace. And this skill is not simply knowing and executing your roll well; it is extrapolated further to being committed to your dreams, your integrity and your ideals within your work life. He points on the the same notion that many of us are simply naive, or maybe we can call it unintentional when dealing with our work life. He argues that the trick, much like in marriage, its intentional commitment.

Adding to this idea, Dodson argues that as a culture, us twenty-somethings are missing something. We dont know what real commitment looks like. In a world where over half of our parents use their marriages to show us that you dont have to do what you promise you will do, our reality of commitment is skewed. Instead of saying that we will do something and ACTUALLY DOING IT, our words seem to be closer to the statement “I want to will to do that.” (I know, you might have to read that one a few times to get it. )And even beyond wanting to commit to something, it’s completely natural for us twenty-somethings to say to one another “I meant that when I said it, but things have changed and I dont mean it now.I wanted to mean it forever, but I’m sorry I dont.”

“Well, I meant it when I said it…”

My point can clearly be seen in the new Sex and the City Movie (ok, I know half of you men are rolling your eyes, and although I agree that this TV show may have been inappropriate, it did make major social headway in terms of sexuality and equality for women…but that’s another blog). I loved the movie. But the part that got me, was one of the characters, Samantha. She is against marriage. She is against commitment. She is forward about believing that the most important relationship is with yourself. And that message is clear when she leaves her long term, live-in boyfriend when she realizes that she hasn’t FELT happy in months. He stood by her during cancer. Things got hard and ugly. Her friends encouraged her to leave. And the part that was so blatant was what she said to him…

“I’m just going to go ahead and say what you arent supposed to say. Its not that I dont love you… its just that I love me MORE…”

Shocking. I hated that part of the story. I felt like it was mixed messages. On the one hand, you had story lines saying “Love will conquer all” as could be seen in the love shared both by Carrie and Big and Steve and Miranda. And if the message was that love was enough, it seemed backward to me that her same friends would encourage Samantha to leave Smith when she no longer felt happy.

I suppose the message was supposed to be “love yourself,” but I wasn’t ok with that.  I’ve obviously never been married, and maybe I’m the wrong person to be asking, but from what I hear, relationships arent supposed to be about you and your happiness. They are backward, like everything else God created. They work when you DONT worry about yourself. They work when you die to yourself, and commit to forever. And in the words of Patrick Dodson, when you are really thinking in a long term mindset, like of your children’s children, one shitty day is only that. Its just one shitty day. It passes. Even shitty years are just that, just time. They pass. But in the face of 100 years, it changes your prospective.

Ok, so how do we beat our daunting statistic?

Its right there staring us in the face, the reality that MOST of us won’t make it.  Its like in the movie Patch Adams with Robin Williams, when the students are in Medical School. The professor says to them “Look to your left and look to your right.  ONE of the people you just looked at won’t make it.”

I love how Ben concludes his blog. He points out that we dont just wake up as married people, fantastic at commitment. We have to practice it. (I know this thought blew my mind too). WE HAVE TO PRACTICE IT. We have to begin looking at the things in our life like practice to being committed. Committed to marriage, to our jobs, to our children. We have to stay committed to good friends when they start making crappy-ass decisions. We have to start being committed to our jobs. This means showing up everyday, ready to do 100%. Not calling in sick when we just want a personal day. It means driving an hour each way to take your little Catholic grandma to mass because you told her you would. It means being inconvenienced. It means being late. It means being broke sometimes. But above all, this means doing what we say, not just what we think we want to do. It means shedding our naivety, and not thinking “that will never happen to me.” but rather changing our game plan to say “that’s going to be me unless I do something radical about it!”

I dont know about you, but it sounds good on paper. The more that I have read over and edited this piece, the more I realize that this subject is really easy to simply sit in my safe single-woman- world and type to other people….married people. I do love the idea of commitment, but there’s still a part of me that is twenty-something, and gets freaked out. I feel confined. And I like the Samantha’s dating mantra; that life is really all about me feeling happy.   But there is another part of me that continues to say what I have said before “Anything worth having is going to eventually ask something of us.” So I suppose I need to learn to take my own advice – and start looking for places to practice being committed.

Once, early in my twenties, I dated a truly horrible guy. I dont know that he always meant to be horrible, but there is no arguing the fact that he was more than terrible to me. He was manipulative, and arguably emotional abusive – telling me I should loose weight, and dye my hair, and always talking about the attractiveness of other women in my presence. The list of discrepancies goes on and on, from isolating me from my friends, to constantly telling me cutting remarks about my family….which over time I began to believe.  

Why I was blind to this, I could not tell you. Maybe this is part of the entire dating/relationship journey for me at this point  – to reconcile what lead me to permit such destructive patterns in my dating life in the first place.

But the climax of our dysfunctional story took place in March of 2004. At this point I had slunked down to barley over 100 pounds due to depression and the need to appear attractive. I was in my junior year of college, and the classes were beginning to get to the point where they would swallow me alive if I would let them. And our relationship was spinning out of control – the way that he was treating me was getting steadily and progressively more unbearable. One night, after leaving a swimming party at his house, I had the gut sinking feeling that something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. So, I went back to his house (which I realize makes me a neurotic woman – but in this instance direly necessary)…and I found him in bed…with another woman.

Needless to say that at 21 this kind of event could kill a girl. And it nearly did. I couldnt keep food down for weeks. I had no more friends…he had successfully picked fights with all of them, leaving me alone in my hour of utter despair. Well, I chose not to leave him through all that time – which left me in utter despair.

Now I don’t want to drone on all of the awful minute details, but what I am getting at is this. This was the first time in my life that didnt have a relationship to hide behind. It was the first time that I was so unrecognisably smashed, I had no choice but stop hiding from God. To come clean, to look Him in the face and say “Ok Lord, lets do this your way.” I can honestly say that night back in March of 2004 was the darkest hour of my life. And looking at all of the places that I have been and grown since then, I am amazing that I am even here sometimes – for there were days, weeks, or even months where mere survival felt like the only objective.

It was not only hard because my heart was crushed, but because I didnt trust God at all. And I didnt want to. Not being able to hide in relationships anymore meant that it was time to face the music and do some serious business with God. And that scared me shitless. SHITLESS.

Now, in those dark hours, there came a promise from God. “Jenni, you will be vindicated.” (God speaks to me often through music, so of course this was a message whispered in the midst of the Dashboard Confessional song, Vindicated.) I knew what the word meant, but I didnt really know the gritty details of the word. So I looked it up. Vindicated was explained as being “to claim ones self for another, to deliver from; liberate, To justify or prove the worth of, especially when the party at hand could not do so on their own.”

Needless to say, I clearly lost it when I read this. And in my mind, that vindication played out in thousands of calculating ways. If I had my way about it, I would have grown up to be entirely successful, going to law school, and making hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. Then one day, looking stunning and powerful in an expensive suit, I would be getting into my brand new Porche, and he would be homeless, begging for money on the streets. He would turn to me and say “Got any spare change?” And in that instance, he would recognize me, and vindication would be won. I would answer “For you?” And then spit in his change cup – or something equally degrading. (ok, I can be mean when Im mad).

So here it is 2008. Its been years. We still go to the same church, so over the years there have been instances where we have seen each other. Usually we ignore each other. But my heart still races, my hair stands on end, and I feel like I am going to vomit. Usually old thoughts come back like “I wonder if I look ok? Do I look skinny? Is he jealous?” Clearly childish, and I would remind myself that I simply dont care anymore, and move on with my life.

Tonight in church he was sitting DIRECTLY in my line of vision. Ten feet away. Its the closest we have been in 4 years. I’m fidgety in church trying to make myself pay attention. And then something happened during worship. God says in my ear “Forgive him. And tell him you forgive him.” FUCK NO! Seriously God? Forgive maaaaaaybe. But walk over there and TALK to him. No. Absolutely not.

And then a crazy thing was happening. My feet were moving. Towards him. My hand was reaching up to grab his shoulder. I was smiling, then leaning in and saying “This may be more for me to say than it is for you to hear…but I forgive you for all those things that happened.” And then he was saying back to me, “I apologize for everything I did to you.”

Vindicated.

 I dont know that he really meant it when he said he was sorry, or that he even knew all that he was apologizing for.  But I am realizing, I dont care. It doesnt matter.

I’m smiling because this is NOTHING like what I wanted or pictured vindication to feel like. But I feel like I have taken a suitcase of poison, that I never really even knew was there, and cut the chord between me and it. He still may not think that he ever did anything wrong, anything worth forgiving. He may think that I’m a crazy girl with a 4 year old grudge. But none of that matters.

He can be or think whatever he wants. Because in this moment, I am realizing that vindication looks like being able to walk away….to REALLY walk away emotionally. To see him in the hall way at church and feel nothing. Not anger, or hatred, or nausea. Vindication looks like realizing that between the two of us, I was big enough to rise above the pain. That I was the one who was big enough to surpass all that he threw at me, and then, even in light of that, to be able to say “I forgive you.” Vindication looks like being a beautiful woman with a beautiful heart…not a skinny girl who has made her ex-boyfriend jealous.

So maybe I didn’t go to Law School, and I most definatly dont have a Porshe. And he still isnt homeless. But I can tell you, that this vindication feels so much better than Law Degree, and expensive suit and a sports car ever could.

Flutters of feelings, wisps of butterfly wings, pitters of a heart…but yet I hold my breath because if I’m really honest, I’m afraid its all too fragile and I’ll breathe out and break it.

I almost have the compulsion to take it deep within my heart, and bury it like a seed. A little tiny seed, that I can close my eyes and imagine it growing. Pushing it deep into the cool earth, desperately trying not to over water it, not to under water it, not to scorch it by the sun.

Smiling, I would sit next to the pot everyday. I would read to the dirt. Maybe looking like and idiot, but feeling elated. Reading stories to the little seed that I knew was deeply in the soil, toiling away. I would sit and stare until I could see the little green arms reaching for the sun. And the day that the tiny pink petals made their way to this great world, gasping in their first breaths of open skies and cloudless wonder – I would want to be there with my camera, taking photos like a mother with her first born child. I would want to post them all over every website I could log into. I would bore people with my detailed explanations of how the pink petals came first, and then we realized that there were little yellow centers – “And we were so shocked because we thought the centers would be purple!”

Then I laugh out loud. Listen to me – I’m ridiculous! Babbling about a plant that doesn’t exist. And taking pictures of a metaphorical seed? I’m clearly retarded. There isn’t a plant. There isn’t a pot of soil. There isn’t even a seed.

There are just little flutters of feelings and wisps of butterfly wings. And I hold my breath because I know how fragile they are. I know that one day you can wake up, and it will be all but gone. But somehow this time, I don’t want them to be gone. I beg for them to stay long enough to even think that they are real. I think that if there is even one ounce of beauty and justice in the world, they would not disintegrate. They would be here when I am ushered into a quarter of a century, I can know that there is some gorgeous purity to the whole thing.

Until then I suppose, hold my breath because if I’m really honest, I’m afraid its all too fragile and I’ll breathe out and break it.

  It’s a funny way this world works. He loves her when she doesn’t even see him. Then she loves him and he happens to be looking the other way. The other her is prettier than than she is, has skinnier legs and better skin. And just when she is getting over him, he breaks up with the other her, but now she is dating a new him that is better looking, with a better job and bigger muscles.

        It all seems a bit unfair sometimes. We are beings that roll through this world looking for a person that can carry us through the days with laughter, joy and adventure. She wants the man who can see her with dirty shirt and a bandana after a long hike, and he will still lean over to kiss her forehead, thinking she is beautiful. She wants a man that doesn’t see that she looks like hell and smells even worse, but carries her when her knees are too bad to finish hiking. He wants a woman that laughs at his shockingly coarse jokes, sweetly rolls her eyes and then shakes her head. He wants a woman who will come over for beer and hotdogs after long Saturdays outdoors.  They both want to be people who laugh, and go to parties, and sing in front of their friends, who dance in the kitchen when they’ve had too much to drink.

       But how it is that we walk through this world and almost miss each other? We brush shoulders with hims and hers that seem to do all of that, and yet, it doesn’t all feel just right when it all goes down. There is too much, not enough, they live too close, too far and everything in between. He has eyes for her, and she never sees him.  He always has a girlfriend, and there is never a chance to even think about dancing half drunk in the kitchen.

      Are we really all at the whim of timing? Is it really about rubbing shoulders with the amazing hims and hers in our lives, and looking around one day to realize that there is so much more? And what if she isn’t lucky enough to have fireworks and butterflies? What if it’s just a matter or choosing to see him? Is dancing drunk in the kitchen, or going to parties or singing in front of our friends the memories that 50 year marriages are made out of?

      Maybe it is all just timing. Hoping that he is lucky enough to be single when she looks his way. Hoping that he finally asks her out on a date when she opens her eyes to see him. Hoping that their worlds collide at just the right moment to explode into years of beautiful memories.  

I know that I hope its enough. I hope I can be the girl who is in the right place at the right time and has eyes to see. I hope that I get to be the smelly girl who gets kissed on the forehead, and laughs at inappropriate jokes. Because maybe just maybe, if I can plan it just right, schedule my blackberry to the tee – maybe one day my timing will be dead on and I too can have an appointment that reads “Fall in love with the right man today.”

I am Beautiful.

And you, unfortunalty, were blind.

I sat across the table from you at dinner, holding your hand and looking into your eyes. Yet, somehow, you managed to see right beyond me. Maybe there was a very beautiful girl sitting right behind me that got into your eye. Maybe it was a baseball game, or a basketball championship.

It doesn’t matter what it was, because the point is the same.

I am going to look deeply into your eyes, and say “Enough of You.”

I will get up from our little table, I will smooth my georgous dress that you didnt notice was brand new. I will march toward the door, leaving you to the beautiful girl at the next table and baseball game on TV.

I won’t cry when I get in the car. No, instead I will reapply my lipstick in the rear view mirror, and notice that my hair looks simply stunning tonight. I will tossel the end pieces over my ear, as I flip on the radio to a song that sings to my soul.

I will drive home in the darkness with a smile on my face not noticing or caring that you are not in the passenger seat with me. I will walk to my front door, not excited for a goodnight kiss, but instead I will fling open the front door, and kick off my new shoes.

I will turn on all the lights, and pull out my paints. I will set down with my favorite album jazzing in the background as I paint deep into the night. I will be artistic and fabulous. I will creative and stunning, stroking the depts of my heart across the canvas in blues and reds, in colors that you never knew existed inside of me, because you never bothered to look. And as it sit there allowing my heart to flow out of my brush, I will be smiling all the while.

And when my eyelids begin to droop with sleep, I will put on the sweetest, softest nighty I own. I will slip between my sheets alone, spreading out in my own bed, leaving no room for you. I will drift so peacefully into dreamland. And as I wind down to the end of my thoughts for that day, I cannot help but say to myself:

“I am beautiful. And you were blind. So that was enough of you.”