Gender Relations-- i.e. Why I'm Not Having Sex

Let me be a little (post)modern here and say something that will not be connected with the rest of my post, or at least as far as I know from what I know about it so far. I have something akin to strep throat right now. It's probably not, because I went to the Medcheck this morning, and the nurse told me everything was not strep throat. She did however look unsure about that upon seeing my germ riddled (virus riddled?) innards, so she gave me the antibiotics anyway. Hence, I'm at home, doing nothing after calling into work. I mean, I can't just go out into the work place with my throat reminding me of sandpaper every time I swallow... or breathe... or move my tongue for whatever reason.

I guess that above paragraph can serve an example of how I don't have a social life. It's not really surprising, seeing as I didn't really have one in college. Or at least not one that you think of when you think of college. I called in sick and have done nothing but go to lunch, get soup, watch the pets and house, and play Mad Men on Netflicks.

...you're welcome

Like Rebekah, I too feel guilty about not having a social life. I keep telling myself baby-steps are enough to get my life to "adult status," whatever that means. One of my goals is to find a nice little social group at a local church, but that means I have to find a new church, make sure that's the right one, test drive that bible study, and then commit. That's like a month long timeline here.

But I'm not one to rush into things. Though I don't fill my life with pros and cons lists, I research even the make up I buy to make sure it has enough five star ratings. But you can't just look up a social life online to research the best people to spend your time with. Well, I guess you can, but I think that's what rapists do on Craigslist.

On a bigger scale, I guess that social life thing will lead me to the fabled "boyfriend." That means that in maybe... three years I'll meet a boy and then see where I go from there.

The boyfriend conundrum (as described by my co-blogger) doesn't fill me with rage, so much as the question, "What did I do wrong?" or the "Where the hell is he already?" I don't frequent Facebook much anymore, and that's only because I don't like being blindsided with people's happiness. Look at all these kids getting married! Good Christian kids! I guess I didn't read the chapter of Matthew where Jesus said it would be an unknown rule that marriage should happen between the twenty-first and twenty-third year of your life. Maybe I should have taken a class at Taylor about finding a mate, or how to find one, or how to at least appear more enticing.

Sorry bro.

I've had two boyfriends in my life. Three if you count the one in middle school. They were all long relationships. But nothing really in college. No one I've met outside of high school. And I wonder what I'm doing wrong. Is it this way for everyone? Am I that much of a loser? Or should I care at all?

If the right man is out there, he'll show up. But will be I in the right place to meet him? God'll give you the boat, but you have to row yourself to shore. But which way is the shore?

All this sad-sackery aside, I wouldn't date the first schmo to come along and ask. I'm not desperate. But I feel as if I should be.

Where did that come from?

M&y

I'll take Brody or this catnip, please

How is everybody? I don’t know why I feel compelled to start this thing like I’m a stand-up comedian, but I feel sort of weird just jumping in without acknowledging y’all. Our readership. And by readership, I mean Hannah Chupp, and my mother (hi Mom). Hello to both of you- and anyone else who accidentally stumbled upon this blog and managed to read this far. Welcome. It’s about to get real.

          Weirdest dating add ever...the couch makes it even more creepy, right?

I want to write about something that’s been bothering me this week: a question that was posed to me by two separate friends and a family member (hi again, Mom) over a space of three days (and in two different languages). That question was this: “Do you have a boyfriend?” (with accompanying iterations of “Don’t you want one?” and “But you forgot to tell me about your boyfriend!”)

Indulge in my self-diagnosis for a while. Because while being asked this question really quite bothers me, I’m not sure exactly why. First of all, to be clear, I am single. Secondly, I’m feeling pretty happy about that (there’s no object of affection that I am pining after…Adam Brody aside). What I mean by “feeling pretty happy” is that I enjoy my friends, my job, my life, and in general don’t find myself missing the guy who isn’t there.

                                                  ...you're welcome

So why does the question bother me so much? Whenever I am asked about this, I feel immediately defensive. Like I should be able to account for the fact that I don’t have a boyfriend. Or should be prepared to offer reasons for my general disinterest in most of the men I have met thus far. I think it also strikes me as (somewhat- only somewhat, but still) sexist. Like the other major events in my life (graduating from college, getting a job, etc.) are interesting in their place but surely can’t be fulfilling. Right?

So what’s my problem? I want a boyfriend… I guess. I feel like it’s hard to say that with any level of certainty until I actually meet someone with whom I really connect. I find myself not making too much of an effort to “meet new people”, and I wonder if I should feel guilty for that. And to be honest, the one guy who asked me out last month, I basically flaked on (which I do feel bad about… but not enough to call him). Canceled on him, told him I would call him, and didn’t. I just wasn’t that into it, I suppose.

So should I feel bad about this? I feel like so many people- and significantly, the people in my life who really matter to and care about me- seem to feel that I am missing something major here. I just don’t (internally) feel all that rushed to find someone now. Or, at all. I mean, I think marriage is wonderful, and I am certainly open to it… but I can also see myself living quite happily on my own. So should I buy the litterbox now, or later?

rkb

Postscript: Mami wrote to me this message after I emailed her back yesterday, telling her I am still without a boyfriend: “Claro que si voy a orar por el gran hombre y varon que Dios te de por esposo mija, ya sabes te queremos muchismo y estamos contentos por ti.” And I am humbled by this. Maybe the questions are less laden with pressure and implied failure than I think. Maybe I’m internalizing a lot more subtext than I ought to be. Maybe this is just people, wanting to keep with with what (and who) is important in my life.