Friday, September 17, 2010
A Singleton's Prayer
Help me to realize that there are a lot of single men out there and, although I only need one (good one, please), they aren't all searching for the same thing I am. It's okay if they're not all long-term relationship-to-result-in-marriage hunting, but I have to be patient enough to sort through those that are in search of other "types" of relationships. And stay clear away from any sites with the words "booty," "sugar" or "intimate" in their titles. Eyes on the prize.
Help me to resist the temptation to rush to judgment. Remind me of my love for Pride & Prejudice and don't let me fall into the ways of Mr. Darcy, judging before knowing. Don't allow me to anticipate negativity; help me to go into each new situation without prejudice, without foreshadowing doom (or some kind of possible repellent physical defect) and without fear that the men I meet will somehow paint me into a corner of hastened matrimony against my will.
Help me to realize that when it's right, I'll know it. Help me to be strong against the desperate urge to settle for the first smiling face that shows interest. Help me not to fall in "love" simply because a member of the male species shows me attention. Help me to know the difference between friend-love and romantic-love, for the first time in my life. Help me to reign in my excitement when I meet someone I connect with to a more manageable level or help me find someone who is just as excited as I am.
Help me to find a middle ground in the control arena. I don't want to wrestle with constant control of everything, but I also don't want to feel like I'm losing control. Help me to find a spot where I can be comfortable: life with a basic structure sprinkled with random dashes of spontaneity.
And most of all, help me to find someone...well, normal. He doesn't have to be a movie star, a GQ model, an eloquent speaker, rich, drive a particular car, wear particular clothes, have graduated from a particular school or work in a particular industry. All I'm asking for is that he looks at me the same way I look at him.
(And under my breath, to the last paragraph I'd add "wants to meet me in real life, won't tell me about his closeted love affair with Bret Michaels through dinner, wears appropriate footwear to a nice restaurant, wears a shirt without stains on it to meet a girl for the first time... Sorry...I had to. It was getting a bit too melodramatic there for my taste.)