March 4th, 2018. This is the year I turn 25. The year I wanted to be married by. Had my previous (and only) relationship worked out, I’d be just a few months away from celebrating our one year anniversary. But, alas, here I am. Single, living with an older lady from my church, spending my days working at an eye clinic and going to the gym, primarily.
I gotta be real with you all. I’m frustrated. I’m lonely. I am NOT desperate, ready to fall for any guy who looks my way, however. Quite the opposite. My best friend/man I almost married is still my closest friend and continues to be such a fabulous example of what I desire in a spouse. Just yesterday we were watching a movie and the characters were talking about failed relationships, he turned to me and asked, “Do you consider our courtship a failed relationship?”
No. I don’t. We did everything right, our relationship was and is still healthy, God honoring, and we would have made an amazing couple had we gotten married. The only reason we did not is because he feels called to be single. Our courtship did not end in marriage, but it was not a failure. We both sought God, learned about one another and ourselves, and when it ended, we continued to honor God by maintaining a love and respect for one another that I have not seen between “exes” before.
Because of that, my expectations, hopes, dreams, requirements, and standards for a man have gotten higher. Now that I know there is such a thing as a man who loves Jesus more than me, who loves me selflessly and choses to protect my heart over satisfying his own desires, I cannot and will not settle for less.
And I am frustrated. Because men like that are so rare. Or at least, it appears that way. My heart aches to share life with someone, to have someone to snuggle up in bed with after long day and just be with.
Someone who enjoys going grocery shopping on the weekends and considers that a fun day out together.
Who loves to cook with me, and doesn’t get frustrated with me when I can’t remember what ingredients I just read on the recipe and have to reread it a dozen times.
Someone who knows how important snuggling is to me, and knows that when I’m mad or frustrated with life, cuddles are always the answer.
Someone who randomly starts singing in the car even when he doesn’t remember the real lyrics, and the radio isn’t even on.
Someone who knows more scripture by heart than I do, and doesn’t act superior because of it.
Someone who doesn’t mind me sending him texts throughout the day about inconsequential things that I thought were interesting (That in hindsight aren’t actually that interesting).
Someone who sets boundaries and sticks to them no matter what, honors his commitments, and doesn’t make empty promises.
Someone who knows that showing emotions is a sign of strength, not weakness, and loves people openly without shame.
Someone who calls me beautiful, and loves me for who I am as a person. But also calls me a hot chick, thinks my body is a treasure, something to be respected and appreciated, and refuses to indulge it in until we are married.
Maybe my expectations are too high. But I know one man who meets them. And I’d rather be alone than settle for less.