An unspoken fear

If you don't already, I suggest you check out the blog of Lara, a lovely person living on the other side of the country and one of my first blogger friends. Her stories are not only well written, but also laced with delicate and sometimes coarse strings of honesty and courage. Her most recent post has inspired me to put on "paper" one of the fears I struggle with every day.

I think we are each equipped with a certain amount of pride. Pride can serve a wonderful purpose. It can see us through moments when we want to give up, but couldn't bear the thought of appearing a failure in the eyes of those we respect. Once through the storm however, we can look back and gain wisdom from our perseverance, realizing we had the strength to withstand all along, we just needed a little extra incentive to push through. And then there is the damaging sort of pride. The kind that stops us from asking for help when we need it, prevents us from healing because we never allow ourselves to fully embrace feelings of hurt or shame or anger- instead choosing to push it back into the corners of our hearts, hidden from public view, but always there, lurking in the shadows and poisoning our thoughts.

Which leads me to the title of this post. My pride holds me back from making public a fear that has been present in my heart since I was probably about 16. And as cliche as it may be, it revolves around "boys" and more specifically, the lack thereof. I hate filling that stereo-type, but there it is. I am afraid I will always be alone.

I am 23 and I have never had a boyfriend, in fact, I have never even been asked out. Ever. I find this horribly embarrassing and though I try to brush it off as circumstantial, there is a part of me that can only look to myself as the cause of this deficiency. In high school I could more easily accept my lack of boyfriend because I wasn't alone. There were lots of other girls who didn't have one. I also recognized that most of these relationships were destined to be short-lived. Though there were times when I felt it acutely and cried chest heaving sobs on the drive home from New Year celebrations, aching for the loneliness, I held onto the hope that college would bring better times, and better chances for finding at least one guy to ask me out.

Generally a happy and optimistic person by nature, I stuck out my chin and kept happy, reminding myself daily of the quality of my being, there was no integral flaw preventing guys from having an interest in me. I was just in a small school, in a small town, and I didn't fit the high school fantasy of a perky girl in a tiny body, content to flatter the arm of her boyfriend in the hall between classes. So I focused on other things. I played year round volleyball in a traveling league, found great success in all of my classes, and had a ball at dances- despite having to ask every guy I went with. I spent time with my friends, went to basketball games and football games, joined clubs, had dinner parties and Christmas parties. I filled my time with friends and laughs and things I enjoyed. Looking back, high school was a good experience for me, even without a boyfriend or a first kiss. And there was college to look forward to.

When the time for college did come, I chose one that captured my heart. In Virginia, it sprawled long and narrow across a mile of campus. Brick buildings with tall, white columns and surrounded by winding brick pathways, the epitome of southern architecture, dotted the map of Mary Washington College. First established as the sister school for the University of Virginia, a men's university founded by none other than Thomas Jefferson, Mary Washington was a women's college until the 70's when it went co-ed... sort of. During my years at Mary Washington, the ratio hovered around 70/30. I suppose I didn't consider the male female ratio when choosing a school, there were other things more important to my decision; how I felt on the campus, the art department, the professors, the cost, the education. It didn't occur to me to that my lack of concern would cause me to experience another four years of boyfriend-less, kiss-less single-dom.

Again however, I surrounded myself with people and activities I enjoyed, the end result being an incredible college experience. My classes and professors inspired me, my friends made me laugh, laugh, laugh, and though I wasn't a big partier, I had a ton of fun. I ignored the feelings of loneliness that tried to creep in and pushed away the ache in my heart, keeping myself so busy that I didn't have time to think about it. But there came a time just before my senior year, when no amount of time-occupying activities or cheery attitudes could cover up my growing feelings of worthlessness or make up for the lack of at least one person thinking I was the cat's meow. The thoughts of "what's wrong with me" and "I don't deserve to be happy" began to take hold. When you are alone long enough, you begin to believe it's what you deserve, that no one will ever be interested in you. Why would someone want to date me? I am not special or all that exciting. I am "damaged goods". These kind of thoughts, once allowed, can spiral out of control and lead down a long and painful road of self abuse. And the pot boiled over that summer before my final year of college.

I maintained my wits enough to know, (even if it came from somewhere within me that was almost out of reach), I could be happy and I could define my worth by more than a man's affection. I come from a family where we don't sweep things under the rug. If we have a problem, we lay it out on the table and stare at it until its dealt with and move on. So I took action and I began seeing a counselor at my college. It hurt quite a bit, and I won't say there weren't times when I wanted to go back to the dull ache, it was more bearable than the heart wrenching alternative. But I stuck it out. I made a decision to love myself enough to take this on, even if it hurt. And in the process, I learned how to ask for help, and how to lean on friends for support and encouragement. I didn't have to go through this alone. I put the shoe on the other foot and realized I would want to help if one of my friends was in a similar situation, so I should let them help me. And they did.

On the whole, the investment paid off. I can look at life's ups and downs with more clarity and perspective and though there are times when I still feel blue and lonely, gone are the days of my worth hinging on my date-ability. But now a year out of college, my situation has not really changed. Despite the fact that I am genuinely happy, there are no men to speak of. Granted, I moved back to my hometown where the bar scene offers up a buffet of toothless Larry's and wife-beater-donning young stallions- not exactly choice options- but you'd think I would have found at least one date-able guy. My family says I am too picky. In my mind however, picky requires turning people down. If no one comes a knockin' I don't even have the opportunity to turn them down. It's a predicament. I am hoping my new location will provide some male companions of the non-male hooker type. I could definitely go for some lovin. The eternal optimist in me understands I will find someone someday, but I sure as hell hope it's sooner rather than later. For now I suppose I will look to the eternal wisdom of The Supremes "You can't hurry love, no you just have to wait. You gotta trust in good time, no matter how long it takes."