Miss Independent vs Miss Compensation

Yes, we can do it. But the question really is- do we have to do it alone?

It was Senior appreciation day during Friday’s pep-rally.  All graduating athletes were being honored by their junior teammates with the playing of songs that they felt best represented the seniors.  One by one, the junior volleyball girls introduced each senior and their “song.”  Because I went to highschool in Texas, most songs were country.

Except mine. As I stood up, wearing my letter jacket, the juniors introduced me and then pressed play…

“Miss Independent” by Kelly Clarkson started pouring out of the speakers and into the basketball stadium. And I started to cry.

Miss Independent, miss self-sufficient. Miss, “keep your distance.”

This song was in no way then, nor is it now, reflective of me. And yet, people continually tell me on a consistent basis that I am “intimidating” because of my apparent independence.  “You just portray self-confidence and strength; you know who you are and you know what you want,” said one guy. “That’s not approachable. Guys don’t feel needed around women like that.”

As I sat for a moment thinking about how big of a cop-out that was, I decided to be equally as honest with him.

“Huh… well.  Allow me to clarify something for you __________ (the pansie shall remain nameless).  I am not independent by nature.  My intrinsic strengths are not necessarily bent towards being independent or being the star, solo player in the game of my life.  I’m not independent because I want to be. I am not this independent and self-sufficient because I am naturally inclined to be so.  I am compensating.

“I am compensating for my lack of compliment. Notice I didn’t say that I am not complete.  I am a whole person. I am complete in Christ. However, I am meant to compliment a man, the same way a man is meant to compliment me.

“But because so many guys are putting growing up on hold, hiding out in their mom’s basements, playing Wii, and claiming that 30 is the new 21, women have suddenly become these ‘fiercely independent’ creatures that are intimidating to you because you have refused to be who you are supposed to be.”

*blank stare*  He didn’t really say much after that.  Come to think of it, I haven’t really heard from him since.

Here’s why I feel this way. There is an impressive difference between “christian guys” and “Godly men.” 

Christian guys are just that– they claim the label and wear it well, often with too much cologne.  They show up consistently, but you know that they are there. They make entrances and sit where they can be seen.  How much they walk away with at the end of the service is hard to determine because they spent most of the time texting or silently flirting with the girl sitting next to them. They look good to be sure. They say all the right things; they speak “Christian-ese” fluently. Where it all tends to come to a crashing to halt is when you don’t actually see a difference in who they are, how they spend their time, or what they talk about, one year later.

Godly men are a different breed though.  They go to church too, but they actually go to hear what the Lord will say through the preacher’s mouth. They show up, but they don’t show off.  Their motivation isn’t to be seen or heard, but instead to see where service is needed and to hear how they can be praying for their brothers and sisters in Christ.  They study the Word on other days of the week, because they want to.  Their hearts are transformed by the truth and weight of the Gospel.  They know the depth of their depravity and they press into Christ, spending more time in prayer and inviting refinement and sanctification.  They lead others by simply being honest.  They invite others to be transparent because they are a safe place. 

Let me just say, I’m not a man-eater/hater. I’m not bitter. Truly.  This is based solely on my personal experience and observation.

It does seem to be a trend in my generation though.  There’s data and statistics to show how Milliniels are breaking the mold culturally and spiritually.  I just can’t figure out why we feel the need to.

The “Harm”

Confession– I tried eHarmony. For about six months.

And I only did it because, as  it turned out, it wasn’t just for freaky-deaky, socially awkward, used-to-be-homeschoolers.  I found out that a lot of my friends were on it and were enjoying their “results” shall we say.  So I gave it a go.

Turns out the world of “eHarmon-izers” is really small. 

I went to the movies on Friday night with two friends of mine from Bible study.  As we were standing in line to get our tickets, I glanced behind me and spotted a young man that was looking at me, or so I thought. 

Huh… he looks really familiar. Why?  Another glance confirmed it. He was my first eHarmony date.

As I chuckled to myself, I told my friends that I had a funny story for them but that we needed to get into the theater first.

As we walked into lobby, Lindsay exclaimed, “OMG y’all, I went out with that guy last week.”

“Which one?” we asked.  Lindsay pointed. 

She pointed to the same guy I went out with.  “Um.. are you on eHarmony?” I asked her.

“Yeah… we went out last week.”

“Welp,” I said, “I went out with him too… in September!  And he told me that he was cancelling his subscription! LIES!  So, how did it go?”

“Not well,” she remarked dryly, “I couldn’t get him to talk!”

“That’s ironic,” I said. “I couldn’t get him to shut up.  Maybe we should start a support group.  I’m sure there are many more just like us out there.”

Friends Don’t Set Friends Up on Blind Dates

I’ve been on my fair share of blind dates and I can honestly say, they have all been bad.  What’s worse to me then the blind date itself, is the friend that thought it would be a good idea in the first place.  I was always under the impression that blind dates were somewhat of an act of pity or charity.  But the friend who conspired against you will tell you “I want this to happen because I think so highly of both of you.” 

No they don’t… they just have a sick sense of humor.  Here’s why I feel this way.

My first blind date happened the summer after my sophomore year of college. I was in Whitefish, MT (where I have been spent many-a-summer) and bored out of my mind.  A friend of my mom’s knew of an “attractive, eligible bachelor” that would be fun getting to know. “Good ‘ol Texas boy.”  Uh huh.

He called. I answered. We arranged the time and place. Date set.

I show up to this quaint little French restaurant and I guessed that he was the man sitting all by his lonesome on the outdoor patio at a table for two. 

“Hi, are you…..?” I can not remember this guy’s name now, so we’ll call him Joe.

“Yeah,” he answered. Didn’t get up, shake my hand, pull my chair.  Nada.  Not sure what part of Texas he was from but clearly, he didn’t live there long enough.

Conversation was OK, at best.  There were some awkward pauses here and there and subject matter that I couldn’t follow along with to save my life. Needless to say, the best part of the date was leaving.  Strike 1.

My next blind date was my own doing.  The following summer, I was back in Montana and working at a restaurant as a waitress (which I miss terribly).  Two UPS men were seated in my section: one an older gentleman, the other hot more my age. Thank God for those brown shorts.

Serving them was fun and easy. They were chipper, patient, and engaging; asked where I was from (my accent tends to make people wonder), what I was doing in Montana, etc.

When they left, I went to gather my change when I noticed what looked like writing on the back of the receipt.  I flipped it over and on the back, the young hot one had left me his number and a request for dinner sometime soon.

“Heck yes!” I thought to myself.  So I called. He answered. We arranged the time and place. Date set.

Date sucked… yet again.  The entire date, he talked about the process of making beer. I don’t have anything against beer, but the art and calculation on just how to hold a bong ain’t the way to get this girl’s attention.  Strike 2.

The last and latest is my favorite.  Blind date “numero tres” never actually even happened.  He asked to reschedule… then didn’t.  And, BONUS, in a seriously twisted and terrible act of fate (and irony) I found out that he had seriously dated a friend of a friend, who I met the weekend before.  I know it doesn’t sound too convoluted, but I am telling you, the social network of the entire state of Colorado shrunk to the size of an atom.  Strike 3.

If you are someone’s friend and have the intention of setting them up on a blind date, please do them a favor and do your homework.  Even Kevin Bacon knows the “6-degrees of seperation” theory. 

I’d hate to give the impression that I am bitter or cynical.  But for the sanity of men and women everywhere… please stop setting your friends up on blind dates because at the end of the day, no one is actually blind, right?