A Lament

     I met you ten years ago. I was visiting with a college buddy who was dating your sister (and would eventually marry her). You were too young for me to pursue, then, so I didn't really give it much thought other than occasional thoughts about how pretty you were. I asked you to dance at their wedding, and it's a fond memory, even if it's not particularly one that I like to pull out of the back of my brain because of how things are, now.

     When I did decide to 'pursue' you, I did it in probably the worst and most awkward way I could because I didn't know any better. You see, my parents split up when I was 14. I'd grown up going to church, and had only been baptized two years earlier, right before the marriage and my father's spiritual life started crumbling. We never really had conversations about women, and how to pursue them, to fight for their hearts. I'm not so sure that last year or so of my parents' marriage he would have known what to say or wanted to say anything at all. I grew up believing that I shouldn't date a woman I couldn't see myself marrying, and that sex was out of the question until marriage, but I'm also not sure where those ideas came from.

     So, I 'grew up' the worst way possible, unguided by an earthly father. At the time, I didn't know anything about protecting a woman's heart, or how to pursue, or why the example of Christ's relationship with the church as our guide for marriage is important. With how I act sometimes, I'm still not sure I understand just how important the correlation is. I've made mistakes in my relationships with other women, too, so it isn't something particular to you, I just don't have a clue what I'm doing and no confidence when it comes to the opposite sex. It's an area of my life that definitely needs to be left in the hands of God.

               

     I'm certain that most of my attempts at pursuing you were nothing more than destructive and painful, and I'm very sorry for that. Things are pretty awkward between us, and I take full responsibility for that. I'm never too certain that I should approach you, now, because your words, "There will never be anything between us", still haunt me. This was your response to the ill-conceived note I gave you quite a few years ago with a book I was hoping would help you spiritually. It was far too much far too soon, especially for a time when we really didn't talk much in person. 

     It's really not any different than now, I guess, with regards to how much we talk. Occasionally I'll talk to you on social media, but if I ever invite you to anything, I get a quick 'no', usually work or a boyfriend. My impression is that you want nothing to do with me, and with my actions in the past (and present), I can understand. When we happen to be in the same place, you've never been anything but polite, but that's you. That's one of the things I really have liked about you; you're positive, polite, gorgeous, modest, hard working, funny, and one of those women who gets more beautiful as you age. I don't say much in person because I worry about how a potential conversation will go. When I see you, my heart is usually going a million miles an hour, and I immediately worry about rejection, about how I look, about perceptions.

     I don't believe in 'the one' beyond marrying 'one' and committing to her for the rest of my life. I don't believe that we're soul mates, or in soul mates at all, for that matter. I generally don't take rejections well, but yours hurt more. I intentionally try not to think about you because it seems like there's no hope, and it physically hurts in the middle of my chest. I know other beautiful women, and I don't believe we're destined for anything, but for some reason, I won't give up, I can't give it up. Every time I see you and say nothing, it bugs me for quite some time.  I know that men are supposed to lead in relationships, and I'm not; I give in to fear. 

     Fear and a lack of hope are absolutely brutal when it comes to life. People do crazy things when they lose hope: they jump from burning buildings, knowing the result, but not wanting to suffer; sometimes they withdraw and shut people out; sometimes they hurt themselves; sometimes they lash out and take their pain out on others. Without hope, there is no faith.  Introspection, especially like this, is only worth a salt if you are learning from your mistakes, though.

     God is sovereign, despite our sinfulness, despite our lack of faith. I shouldn't worry about this because His Will, not mine, will be done.