As of late, I have been on a very important life mission. Mission: Find A Wedding Date. This has happened upon me because, my sweet baby sister is getting married and since I have to give a grand speech, I want to make sure I at least pad the room with someone who feels obligated to laugh at my jokes and tell me I look pretty. I feel like that should be part of the Maid of Honor handbook, right?
So, as I’ve embarked on this mission, I have been going on quite a few first dates that never ever end up in second date territory. It may be that I am picky. It may be that I am entirely unattractive and unlikable but, dammit, even Hitler found someone that swooned about him, so I can’t be that bad, right?
I’ve had so many friends give me speeches about how I need to “be patient” or “put myself out there”! Even more have given me the “Just call up one of your guy friends. Tell them to wear a tie and be charming. All he’ll have to do is be your hand holder for the evening so you don’t fall, dance with you and make a good impression on your grandma.” Here’s the thing, I know plenty of ringless, handsome, lovely men that would do that for me, but, I am also about to turn next-to-thirty and I’m a little lonely, so I put myself out there via a few different avenues.
Most recently, I let a friend set me up.
“He’s great!” she cooed “A little quirky, kind of geeky, great smile, tall, well read. Totally up your alley!”
So, I met my own Ragamuffin Romeo for coffee one afternoon. I am a firm believer in driving yourself on the first date, ladies. But, as I walked in I was pleasantly surprised. Our mutual acquaintance was totally right, he was Geek Charming riding in a White Honda. For the first hour, everything was great. We laughed, we talked, we dug deep into music and theology. We totally clicked. Hour two was much of the same, as was hour three.
Just before hour four his face got incredibly serious and he reached for my hand over the table. (Butterflies? Psh! Try pterodactyls!)
“Laura, may I be honest with you?” Of course, because, how could I possibly tell our hypothetical future children that he was dishonest with me on our first date!? (Don’t tell me no one else thinks things like this. We’re all friends here.)
The sentiment to come out of his mouth following hit my like a train. Shards of the metal and glass pieces of my dignity screamed to a halt as he said…
“You are amazing. I could totally fall in love with you. My soul, my heart, my intellect would all be satisfied. You’re an incredible woman. I could grow old with your joy, your wit, your passion for music and people. I love how passionately you love Jesus. But, I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t say this to you. You are physically repulsive. I’ve tried to look past it this entire time, trying to see through your size and the garish way you’ve presented yourself. (For the record, what he meant was a black dress, jean jacket, white Converse and pearls is basically me peacocking.) But, I don’t want to fall deep enough to marry you, try to consummate our commitment on our wedding night and not be able to perform. I’d never be able to perform for THAT.”
I know what you’re thinking. SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! HE DID NOT!
Oh, but, he did, though! I handed him five dollars for the coffee he had purchased for me, grabbed my bag and left without a word.
I will never try to tell you I’m anything like a cookie-cutter model of a woman. I’m shamelessly curvaceous. Though, I am significantly smaller than I was a year ago, I’m still not a petite pixie by any means. I’ll give him credit where it’s due. He was honest. I can appreciate that above all else. Crudely honest, at moments, even
But, there are reasons that I drove home teary. Very few of them had to do with this man or his opinions. Why hadn’t someone been that kind of honest with me before? Does that mean that that’s what most men think of me? Does it really matter?
Here’s what I gathered. I will never be the woman a man wants until I want me. I will never be stunning until I see myself that way. I will never be lovely or wanted or exciting until I see myself that way. So, I’m going to my sister’s wedding stag. Because, nothing about that day will even remotely be about me anyway, as it should be. I’m going to dance. I’m going to celebrate. I’m going to give the very best Maid of Honor ever and I’m going to leave my fairy tale alone for a while. I’ve got too much going on to sit across from criticism in my daily life any more. Stop letting him make reservations!