I’ve been fasting from boys for the last few months. This basically means no flirting, not getting too close emotionally and stopping myself from thinking that every unattached guy I meet is probably my future husband.
I’ve been doing pretty well…mainly because I never see or meet any guys these days. There was this one guy I had a crush on, but I basically avoided him (still do), which is easy because when I briefly talked to him a few weeks ago I was reminded of how uncomfortably awkward I can be around guys I like. I talk too quickly and laugh too loudly and often say/do strange things. So really it’s best for everyone if I just stay away.
So yeah, my fast from boys was going pretty well. Until I went to training camp. Where there were lots of boys. Christian boys. Cute Christian boys. Cute Christian boys with beards. What’s a girl to do? Obviously wonder which one of them is my future mate.
I didn’t protect my mind as well as I should have. If I happened to meet a guy from the same tri-state area as me, I figured it was a sign from God. I even thought things like, “well, we are meeting now so God can bring us back together in two years when I’m done with Teach for America. We’ll have an epic romance that will overcome distance and time.” Bad, Hope. Bad bad bad.
I didn’t protect my mind, but I did protect my actions. Which was hard. You know how when you have a crush on someone you always want to be in the same room as them? Well I would leave that room. It was contrary to everything I wanted, but I did it anyway. And it felt a little bit like I was dying (dramatic, I know), but I’m trusting that by not giving into instant gratification, I’ll find greater gratification later in life.
Something I’ve learned during this boy fast is that I can’t allow myself to act like myself around single guys. Let me explain. I’m a big-eyed, lean forward, jump up-and-down, scream and hug you, slap your arm if you say something funny, passionate, loud, excited person. I’m like this with most everyone. Young, old, black, white, girl, boy, single, married. If my grandma is telling me a story, I’ll be leaning forward, making intense eye contact, vigorously nodding my head, losing my breath with laughter, etcetera etcetera. I’d be doing the same thing if my girlfriend was telling me a story. Or my girlfriend’s husband. But if I’m doing that – aka being myself – with a single guy, suddenly it’s flirting.
This is something I’ve been mulling over for a month or so, ever since this one kind of random guy got my phone number and texted me and asked if I was in a relationship and flirted with me and stuff. I wondered, had I given him the impression that I was interested? The only thing I could think of was how I said to him, “I like your style” because he let us leave early. But I would’ve said that to anyone.
This past week my friends took a picture of me “flirting” with a guy and sent it to my phone. I protested and said that I wasn’t, that I know when I’m flirting and I certainly wasn’t in that moment, but they wouldn’t have it. And thus I conclude: I can’t let allow myself to act myself when in the company of a single guy. Unless he’s the exception, which is like two guys I know (whaddup Benji and Geoff!)
The thing is, I don’t want to mislead any guys into thinking I like them. Even if I’m only being myself, or even if I really doooo like them. Because I know now is not my time. I’m going to be one of those “thirty, flirty and thriving” people. Except I’ll be “thirty, not flirty and thriving.” Cute.
So, even though I’d much rather be a Sarah Jessica Parker circa Sex and the City, I know I’m supposed to be a nun. Whoopie Goldberg style.
<— bad! <— good!