I have a lot to say, but I hate fluff. Here's my attempt to stay concise and clear, convicting and comforting those who read.
I have dated ten men.
I don't mean that I've had ten serious relationships, most of these were what millennials would call, "things." These ten men I have opened up to, listened to, revealed myself to, been known by, and spent time knowing. But that's the limit to my justifying or explaining my number.
Like most things, I believe you should know the motivation behind what you're doing and what you're thinking. Your privacy shouldn't be the exception. Here's what I've been learning. There are two motivations for privacy. First, you're private because you don't want to give details, be open, or vulnerable for the sake of the other party listening/reading. Maybe the details, the information, the content would harm the reader/listener. That is healthy and mature. I think privacy is a beautiful tool in gauging intimacy. We shouldn't open up about everything to everyone if it could hurt the listener or reader.
However, a person could be private because of shame. That's the second reason we are private. There is an amount of shame or embarrassment--beyond healthy conviction. The shame has turned and tempted you into isolation and created a pseudo, twisted sense of uniqueness. Yet, the Bible makes it pretty clear: we are not the only or first people to make the mistakes we make.
One of my favorite writers, Dave Eggers wrote a book, A Heartbreaking Work of a Staggering Genius. It is a creative non-fiction piece about the death of his parents', the adoption of his brother, and the start of his literary magazine. He writes about the inner struggle every non-fiction writer faces: what information should I give my readers? Here's my favorite part of the book:
"I can afford to give you this. This does not break me. I give you virtually everything I have... We feel that to reveal embarrassing or private things...somehow makes one less of oneself. But it's just the opposite, more is more is more--more bleeding, more giving. These things, details, stories, whatever, are like the skin shed by snakes, who leave theirs for anyone to see. What does he care where it is, who sees it, this snake, and his skin? He leaves it where he molts... we come across a snake's long-shed skin, and we know something of the snake, we know that it's of this approximate girth and that approximate length, but we know very little else. Do we know where the snake is now?What the snake is thinking now? No."
When we share the details of our lives with others, we are afraid of judgment. But Eggers says that he can "afford" to give these stories to his readers because it is not him. Like a snake, it is apart of him, but it's not him, where he is now, where he is going.
Ten men. That's my relationship number. You can infer some things about me. You can guess who I am by that number, to a degree. You can know my approximate this and approximate that. Sure that number does say a few things about who I am.
I think often times, I am afraid of breaking down that privacy, to enter into vulnerability because maybe I would be found out, and maybe in that discovery, I would be seen for who I really am--too much, pathetic, unlovable.
Maybe, at the end of the day, I'm not those things. Maybe deep down, I am a snake shedding its skin. And those things aren't me, but things I've done and the mistakes I've made. Maybe I can afford to share my sins, my convictions, my shortcomings because they aren't me because His salvation and grace.
Or
Maybe, at the end of the day, I am those things. I am too much, pathetic, and unlovable. Maybe those things are exactly who I am, but through grace and salvation, I can be called beloved.
Either way, I do know this: if finding a husband is not the point of living, and if human romance is not the purpose of life, then when I fail in finding a husband (dating), it shouldn't break me because it wasn't my Ultimate, my life source. I can openly admit to my ten, my dating, my innocent crushes, my messy breakups, my personal mistakes, etc. because I know this journey through dating isn't going to lead to my satisfaction, marriage or not. I am already satisfied, fully made in Christ who loved me before I loved Him.
Some of you reading might think, so what? Ten guys, not a big deal. However, for somebody whose personality struggles with being known and understood, I find failing intimacy to be something quite tragic, and further, the thought and shame of investing and revealing so much of me to so many men (at least to me), is also embarrassing. However, I realize this might not resonate with you. I would challenge you to fill in your own blanks, "If _________ is not the point of living and if _______ is not the purpose of life, then when I fail________, it shouldn't break me."
If it breaks your identity, if it shatters who you are, it's valued too much.
In addition (trying to stay on topic but stick with me), there has to be something that fills that blank, and I'd argue finding it would be worth the searching because it will break you at the end.
So, here I am writing this blog after my boyfriend and I broke up. Roughly three months, and it seems like my relationships aren't lasting as long as they used to, and I'm very content with that. I know waiting for the sake of waiting, fighting to keep something together for the sake of keeping it together--really doing anything, for the sake of just doing it--can be stupid. Why stretch it seven months, a whole year, three years! etc. when you know you should break up after three months? I'm not going to continue to date, fight, try, and hurt in a relationship that doesn't glorify God.
Finally, the hope of a little black dress.
When my past boyfriend and I were dating, he promised to take me on a fancy date. What that meant was, we would dress up and go to this very nice bar looking all spiffy and sexy. Being a tomboy teacher, I didn't have a lot of occasions for dressing up, and so I bought a little black dress. It was $14, but I have never felt so sexy, so incredibly womanly in a piece of clothing. I know it sounds slightly materialistic, but without getting into a lot of unnecessary details, some "stuff" in my childhood and young teenage years had tragically scared me into thinking that looking beautiful is a negative thing. Until recently by the work of God through healing and forgiving my past, I can say by wearing this dress and being okay (even celebrating!) getting attention for looking really beautiful, is a large milestone.
But...
we never went on the date.
The dress is hanging in my closet, and I'm so freaking excited to wear it!
Let me make this very clear, this is not me saying that the little black dress represents the future and a successful relationship. That the hope is in a future date, and that it will be my future husband. In fact, I already think I know when I'm going to wear it, and to say it's with my future husband is a bit ambitious--to even call it a date is ambitious.
The little black dress is a symbol for my cynical heart trying to put forth effort and willingness to try, even after being burnt out ten times before. It's a symbol of acceptance and acknowledgment of my true identity. It's the fact that when/if I put it on for a date, the success of that date does not determine who I am, to any degree.
The world can know every detail about the little black dress. The world can know about the man who sees me in it for the first time. The world can know about the success or failures that will inevitably be associated with it.
I'll let the world know my adventures in the little black dress in hopes the person underneath those dark threads stands with dignity and optimism through all the pressures this life throws at her, and in even more hope that the God who made the woman in the little black dress could be glorified and made known in both her successes and failures.
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