Relationship Status

Sometimes a relationship status update can pull the rug out from under you.

     It happened again this morning. I was scrolling through my Facebook stream when it leaped out at me like a venomous snake: In a Relationship. I sat back in my chair, unable to breathe. Uninvited questions began pummeling me like merciless fists. Who is she? How long have they been seeing each other? Where did they meet? Is she as good to him as I was? Is he happy with her? I stared at his profile pic, wishing it would burst to life and he would start talking to me.

     This is what I hate most about Facebook �" the relationship status. Mine has been set on “single” since I opened my Facebook account seven years ago. I've watched friends, family, and ex-boyfriends phase through Single, It's Complicated, In a Relationship, Engaged, and Married while I've remained a steady, flat-lined Single. In fact, I've become so comfortable in my Single status that when I see someone else lose theirs, I wonder whether I should send my congratulations or condolences. My knee-jerk reaction is, Aww, look. They've just lost their independence. How sad.

     You see, there is a part of me that absolutely revels in being unattached. The freedom that comes with being single is just about as liberating as walking a sandy white beach in the Summer. But there is this other part of me (that I do not speak of) that longs to share my life with someone who is head-over-heels in love with me, to walk the beach together, hand-in-hand.

     I don't like to be reminded of what I've had and lost through the years. I don't want to live in the past. I've worked too hard to rise above my mistakes and evolve into a woman my parents can be proud of. That said, I've fought with myself over accepting the Friend Requests of ex-lovers. Do I really want to be reminded that, for a moment in time, I shared my body, heart, and soul with this person? Do I want to remember the kind of person I was when I was with them? That I wasn't worthy of a lifetime commitment?

     If I do choose to accept an ex's Friend Request, logging into Facebook becomes a game of Russian Roulette. There's a fifty-fifty chance that the guy's updates won't come through my feed, or, like this morning, I may have to take a bullet to the heart.

     When I accepted Joe's Friend Request (after ignoring it for nearly two years), I was feeling pretty confident in my faith and my identity. I considered this decision a sign of how far I'd come since our break up: Look how much I've grown! I can be friends with you on Facebook, but nothing beyond that. My safety net (just in case) was the “Unfollow” option. Choosing to Unfollow him would keep us “friends,” but I wouldn't be subjected to any of his posts. I've used this option before, mostly with those people who can't stop uploading photos of their babies, the food they eat, or their significant others. I like babies, I like food, and I am not against mushy “Look at us, we're so happy together” photos. But I can only take so much. When a person starts posting hundreds of photos of their babies, meals, or partners at the rate that my daily feed is cluttered with them, I have to put on the brakes. Enough is enough.

     But the truth was, I was curious about Joe. In fact, that's probably why I “friend” most of my ex-boyfriends. Curiosity. What have they done with their lives since we broke up? How do they look? Who are they with? Since I'm a grown-up, I can accept that things didn't work out between us (that I wasn't “the one” for him) and still remain friends. Let's face it �" I still care about these guys. Um... well... yeah, that is part of it. But who am I kidding? The truth is, I want to see how miserable they are without me. Okay, let's cut the crap. What I really want is for them to see how well I'm doing without them. Rub it in their faces �" I'm doing just fine without you, you big jerks! Look at what you're missing out on! Boy, you sure messed up by letting me go!

     What I hate most is having the tables turned, being reminded that their lives go on without me, too. And nearly every guy I've either crushed on, dated, or slept with since I was in high school has moved on. Some of them are happy, many of them are not. Some of them still stay in regular contact with me, but most are nothing more than a blur in my Facebook scrolling. I pause briefly to read their post or view a pic, and think, “Wow. I am so glad I didn't stay with him. Look how bald, fat, old, and unhealthy he is. Yikes,” or “I can't believe I messed around with him. What a loser. I'm much better off without him.”

     Joe was a part of my life for the better part of four years. It was complicated, because he was a lot younger than me and in no way ready for a long-term, committed relationship. I was on the rebound from a five year relationship with an older man who had been unwilling to settle down with a ready-made family. I'd come out of that relationship feeling defective. He'd made me feel like there was something seriously wrong with me since, after giving him five year of my life, he still didn't want to marry me. His rejection had been an added injury to the fact that my children's father had abandoned me (and the kids) several years prior to that. My heart had been shattered, and there was no putting it back together.

     My involvement with Joe had not been intentional. He'd appeared during the lowest, darkest time of my life. It happened at a party. We were drunk, inhibitions were low, and we'd thrown common sense to the wind. Afterward, we swore it would never happen again.

     But it did. For four years.

     Those were some of the most tumultuous years of my life. I was working 50-60 hours a week at an animal hospital, trying to raise my kids, keep up with housework, and maintain my on-the-side pet-sitting jobs. I had turned my back on God years before. Too many bad things had happened to me, and I blamed God for it. I used drugs and alcohol to numb the pain that came from being abused at work, failing as a parent, being rejected by past lovers, and running from God.

     Joe made me feel sexy, youthful, and alive. The fact that he'd rather be with me than a girl his own age was immensely flattering. When he took me into his arms and whispered, “Tell me what to do. Show me everything you like. I want to be the best you've ever had,” something inside me ignited like wildfire. What we shared was the stuff that steamy “forbidden romance” novels are made of. The sneaking around, keeping it quiet �" the unconventional nature of what we were doing �" only made it that much more exciting. I didn't get much sleep much during those years. He'd come over in the middle of the night, when everyone else was in bed. Nobody had known about us. It had stayed our little secret.

     We ended it three years ago. I broke up with him. I had to. He needed to find someone his own age, I needed to get my life straightened out. I couldn't start over and keep him by my side. I had to give him up if I was ever going to become the woman God created me to be. Joe was an addiction �" a bad habit that needed to be sacrificed, if I ever wanted to become a healthy, well-balanced individual. I'd loved him as much as I could with my damaged, twisted heart, but it hadn't been genuine, “forever” love. We'd built a shallow relationship from loneliness, desperation, and desire. It had been destined to fail.

     Now, as I stare at his picture, all the memories come flooding back �" all the years spent entangled in his arms, talking, laughing, pretending that what he had would never end. I remember the electricity between us, the hours spent stretched out beside him, in a smokey haze, dreaming about how some day he'd be a famous musician and I'd be a best selling author. He'd say, “If only you were ten years younger, we'd be the perfect couple,” and I'd snuggle up against him, thinking how unfair it was that we hadn't been born in the same era.

     But now he's found someone else. I don't know how old she is or what her story is. I wonder if I'd like her. I wonder if he's finally found “the one,” or if she will end up being just another stepping stone in his quest to find his soul mate. I may never know the answer, because I haven't talked to him since I severed our relationship three years ago. I've intentionally kept my distance, knowing that to strike up a conversation with him is to fan a spark between us that need never be reignited.

     I've stayed celibate and single since the day I walked out of Joe's life. I've been surrounded by twenty-something year old guys for the past four and a half years during my time at Montreat College, and I have never been drawn to any of them, like I was to Joe. At least I know I'm not a cougar (believe me, I've been the recipient of many rude comments about a woman my age going back to college “to hunt the young guys on campus”). I've thrown all of my energy into restoring relationships with my children and family, excelling in my academics, kicking bad habits and instilling good ones into my daily routine, and �" most of all �" reconnecting with God.

     It is to Him that I now run. I close my laptop and hurry to the shower. I let the water pour over me as I cry out to my Father: Why does it still hurt so much? I know this is what needs to happen, but it makes my heart ache to know he's with someone else. I think of all the people who are in relationships, and I wonder why it hasn't happened to me.

     The green monster of jealousy rises up within me, and we face off:

     “If all your exes have found someone else, then something must be wrong with you,” the monster accuses.

     I raise my fists and prepare to strike back. “I'm under construction. A work in progress. When the time is right, it'll happen.”

     “Maybe you've had your chance with love. Maybe what you've had is all you'll ever get. What if there is no one else?”

     “Then I'll be thankful for the relationships I've had and what I've learned from them.” Bam! Sucker punch to the gut. Point for me!

     The monster recovers quickly, and starts naming guys who have been standing in line, waiting for me to pick one. “You don't have to be alone. Any one of these guys would love to make you their own.”

     The creature is right. I've acquired numerous admirers during my time at Montreat College. I could go running to any one of them and receive instant gratification. It would make me feel momentarily better, and I could forget about my wounded pride.

     Pride. That's really what this all boils down to. My pride, my fragile ego, has been insulted. What �" did I really think Joe would never find anyone as good as me? Did I honestly believe he would never be able to move on after me? How vain and arrogant of me to think I was that phenomenal, that irreplaceable.

     “Get out of here!” I scream, and kick the monster aside.

     Humbly, I raise my eyes to gaze into the face of my Father. “It's okay that everyone else has found someone and I am still alone,” I tell Him.

     “But you're not alone,” He gently reminds me.

     I'm not alone. Even when I was cowering and fearful, like a wounded animal, God had been there, stretching out His hand in gentle invitation. He'd been there when I'd felt as ashamed as the woman at the well, neither judging nor condemning me. He'd seen the tears I'd cried every time a man I'd given myself to refused to love me the way I longed to be loved. He knew me, inside and out. He'd fashioned the passionate heart beating within my chest, and He made no apologies for the way He'd created it.

     “I am enough,” He whispers.

     Warmth and peace fill my soul to overflowing. He is more than enough. He has remained faithful to me, to my children, when every flesh-and-blood man in my life has failed me. In His arms,

     I receive more than physical affection or temporary pleasure. He loves all of me, from my flawed and scarred-up body to the depths of my tormented soul. I don't have to say a word, but He knows what is going on inside of me. He doesn't say it's silly for me to feel the way I do. I wouldn't blame Him for shaking His head and saying, “Why on earth are you wasting your time thinking about Joe? Don't ever regret getting rid of that guy. Look at what you've got now �" see how far you've come since you left that lifestyle behind!”

     Instead, He gathers me into His strong arms and holds me close. He rocks me back and forth and softly coos, “I know it hurts. I know how much you miss the companionship. I know you don't understand why I haven't brought someone special into your life. It feels like I'm holding out on you �" keeping what you want most away from you. But, please trust me. I know what's best for you. Rest in me. Let me be your partner, your lover, your companion. Let me be enough.”

     And me, being the insecure human that I am, have to ask, “But do I have to stay single forever?” Because as much as I try to convince myself that I really do like being single, deep down, I know I was created to be in communion with someone else. I am too passionate, too romantic, and too nurturing to be happy by myself.

     “What if I said yes? Would you still love me? Trust me? Follow me?” He asks.

     And though my heart sighs at the prospect of definitive singleness, I don't hesitate to answer, “Yes.        Undoubtedly, yes.”

     Love and affirmation surround me.

     It is in knowing and believing that I can forgo a human partner so that I may remain in union with this immensely personal, intimate God �" a God who loves me beyond the limitations of the human heart and body �" that I can face the rest of my day. My relationship status might be “single,” but I am not alone. I am in the most important relationship of my life. And it is because of this supernatural love that I can keep smiling, while somewhere out there, Joe is sharing his dreams with someone else, instead of with me.