Dance of the last call

Well, it's happened. My 30th birthday has come and gone. Do I feel older? Physically? No. Emotionally? Yes. As a middle schooler, I could not wait to be in my 30s. Little did I know then the stigmas that would be attached to being *gasp* SINGLE and 30...at the same time. I know, I know...terrible. How could I let such a thing happen? Being a 30 year old single black woman in the South must mean I'm too picky, right? Heaven forbid it mean this society is producing a mass amount of a creature called the "man-child" commonly mistaken for a real man. I'm sure our society would never encourage a twisted, warped sense of entitlement in it's young people that leads these beasts to insist on this purpetual childhood where they never have to grow up/nut up, learn about delayed gratification or put someone else's needs before their own. May it never be! Well, guess what, IT BE! Parents are telling their children they are special one too many times, and yeah, here we are. I bet Obama was told he was special a lot.

I am absolutely sickened by the idea that as women get older, they should lower their standards when it comes to finding and keeping a mate. Have we forgotten one key factor? Women get BETTER as we age! As far as appearance goes, we look more grown up, less like the girls on Girls Gone Wild and more like Wonder Woman or Xena-Warrior Princess. Intellectually, we're sharper, wiser, more discerning and not worried about appearing "too smart". We've realized intelligence is sexy! Bear with me on this one (if you are ultra conservative, you may need to turn away), sexually, women peak much later than men (like the 30s/40s). That's all I'm gonna say about that. We are more confident in our abilities and our careers are established. In this day and age, most of us have/are working towards buying our first home and are financially responsible. Many people compare women to a fine wine, but I saw we are more like a good bourbon. The older we get, the more well rounded and smooth we become...without losing our strength. Does this sound like the type of woman who should/has to settle for whatever stagnant, immature caveman wanders out into light after 8 hours of video games to club some unsuspecting vixen over the head, and drag her back to his Cheeto and Axe body spray scented man cave? HELL NO! The only difference between 30somethings and the youngn's out there, is that WE KNOW BETTER! I hear so many young ladies talking about thinking all of the foolishness these little boys out there are doing is "cute" and something they will "grow out of". I am a grown woman...what is wrong with expecting one of my peers to be grown as well? NOTHING! All I can say is, the older I get, the better I get, so a potential mate better bring his A game.

What do you really really want?

One of my guilty pleasures is Sex and the City. Even though the show has been off the air for a while now, I still love watching the reruns. It's a morally bankrupt show, I know, and it's not something I should be filling my mind with, I understand all of these things. This is why I said it was a guilty pleasure. Last night, during one of my all time favorite scenes from the show, I had an epiphany of sorts.

The character Charlotte (who I feel most closely relates to me in both style and personality), broke up with the love of her life, Harry, a short, bald attorney who is Jewish. She converted to Judaism (she was formally Episcopalian) so that he could marry her. They were serious, but he hadn't proposed, and she assumed that once she converted a proposal would be immediate. They got into an argument when she demanded that he "set the date!". He left, and she was heartbroken. Fast forward two weeks, her friends are trying to set up her with people and suggesting she get back out there. She goes to a Jewish singles mixer, and after talking to a really nice guy, realizes she's not ready to date because she's still madly in love with Harry. She turns to scan the room, hoping that by some random chance Harry is there. Of course, he's there, and their eyes meet. She walks over, and begins a heartfelt confession of her "foolishness" and says, "I don't care if we ever get married. Harry, I just want to be with you. If you could just call me or maybe even ask me out again, I would really appreciate it." **Spoiler alert** He then drops on one knee and proposes. Happy ending? We'll see.

Exhibit B is in one of my favorite movies, "He's Just Not That Into You". Jennifer Aniston's character finally comes to a point where she draws a line in the sand and says to her boyfriend (Ben Affleck) of 7 years, "Will you ever marry me?" When he doesn't say anything, she breaks up with him. Over the coming weeks, she goes through being part of her younger sister's wedding and her father having a heart attack. She becomes increasingly upset and lonely. Ben Affleck's character then waltz's in like a knight in tarnished armor and this once wonderfully courageous woman breaks down and says, "I don't care if we ever get married, I just want you for the rest of my life. I am willing to take marriage completely off the table." **Spoiler alter** He then proposes.

What is the moral of these stories? What message does this send? Women: toss your standards, hopes and dreams aside. Do whatever it takes to get a man. Men: wait a woman out. You don't have to rise to clear the bar, just wait until you can slither under it. Don't worry about being a man of character and integrity, one who honors and respects women and provides for his mate. If you wait her out, she'll get so desperate, she'll come crawling to you on your terms. No need to take initiative, she'll eventually do it.I think what's most depressing for me is that I was sucked in by all of this. I was so caught up in the rush that these women got their man in the end, that I didn't think about how they got there. I was kind of proud of both of them for saying "I want to get married", and I overlooked their weakness in the end.

I know, as a general rule, we shouldn't look to media for guidance and life advice, but this is one instance where I see art imitating life. All across the country, and likely the world, scenarios like these are plaid out daily. Women try to be true to themselves, try to hold a certain standard, but in the end the pressure to get a man is too great, and they cave. Women are afraid to expect more. At some point, we started to believe that expecting men to be men would make us seem needy and demanding. Somewhere along the way, having standards guaranteed singleness. We're so afraid of seeming weak, needy, snobby, or unappealing that we can't even let a man open a door for us without a fight. A life of singleness seems far worse a fate than being stuck in a mixed up relationship in which we call all the shots, and our significant other is some sniveling, weak excuse for a man. So many women complain that there are no real men left in society. Of course there aren't, the feminists have locked them all in a basement, labeling them Neanderthals and chauvinistic pigs. Rather than give their guys opportunities to step up and be the kind of man they should be, Charlotte and Aniston's characters crumble. Women today are afraid to wait for what God has for us and just like in musical chairs, we scramble for whatever is left. We leap desperately for what we feel is our last shot.

Psalm 27 verse 14 says it well, "Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!"

Finding home

My life over the past few months has been nothing short of chaotic, fun, miserable, meaningful, and frustrating. For you bloggers out there, one of the most notable things that has occurred is that my computer has died. There is no bringing it back in the near future, and I've even had my Internet cancelled at home. Surprisingly, I haven't really missed having 24/7 access to the Internet (who are we kidding, what I really mean is 27/7 access to facebook). Every once in a while, I wince because I've missed an important email or message, but other than that, it's really been nice to focus my energies on other things.

Ballroom dancing has really taken over my life; it's crazy. Not a day goes by that I don't dance...even if just for a few seconds. Being a single woman can make the love of dance quite frustrating. For those of us ladies out there who refuse to step out of our role as the pursued, this can mean sitting out during many great songs...many dances not danced. The desire to be sought after does not dissipate when one steps into the dance hall. There's something about dancing that changes a woman. I don't know if it's just me, but it's almost this Cinderella experience. You're sitting there, and this wonderful song comes on, then out of no where a gentleman comes and asks you to dance. You spin, glide, laugh and get wrapped up in the rhythm, the sweet melody, and if you're lucky...your partner. It can be an intoxicating experience. For a moment, you feel beautiful, carefree and happy. Now please don't get too bogged down in the romantic side of ballroom dancing, it can be maddening when you can't seem to get the steps right, you're off rhythm, and the cologne of one of your dance partners just won't seem to wash off...even after using a Brillo pad to scrub your skin. Ah yes, even after nights like that, I still love dancing. I could go on about it, but I think you catch my drift.

I find myself becoming more settled in my life. I'm starting to get more involved with my community, and really taking a look at what being an active, productive citizen means to me. At the moment, I'm starting small...coaching a little league team, and being part of a homeless coalition. Hopefully, I'll add to my activities more over the next few years. My schedule is seriously getting jam packed each week. At first my weekends were sort of wide open, but not those are also requiring a good bit of coordination. Both this coming Friday and Saturday, I may attempt to be in 3 different places at once.

I like being busy, though. It keeps me out of trouble. I'm not sure if literally not having time to get into trouble really counts as triumphing over temptation...probably not. The real test comes in the quite. What do you think about...dwell on...when everything else is silent? One thing I've taken the time to think about is my singleness. What to do with it, how to handle it, possible causes of it. For the first time in my life, I'm genuinely okay with being single. Hmm..."okay" isn't the best word; let's go with "at home". Yes, that has a better ring to it. I'm at home in my singleness. What does this mean? It doesn't mean I've abandoned all hope in obtaining a husband, I think marriage is a great and wonderfully sanctifying thing if that's what the Lord has called you to. Being at home in my singleness is more like diving head first into it and enjoying where the Lord has me. It's cultivating a rich life without constantly looking over my shoulder to see if Mr. Right is coming. It's realizing I can still very much so be a homemaker even though I don't have a husband or children. I can make people feel loved, welcomed, and at home with me. It also means I can feel at home in myself, and while I'm not always happy with everything about myself, I do have a pretty good idea of who I am, and what I want.

Friendships mean so much more when you take the time to really digest them, savor conversations with close friends, stoke the fires of acquaintanceship, and rebuilding broken relationships. Friendship really does add spice to life.

To sum everything up, I'll describe the past few months in 3 words: joy, passion, and frustration. So much has happened, way more than I care to cover here, but do know, gentle readers, that I have not forgotten you!

Random thought

I am always surprised at how people perceive me. I realize everyone makes an impact/impression on the world in some shape, form or fashion, but I guess I minimize my own. With some regularity, I get asked, "How many children do you have?" Not, "Do you have kids?", though that does pop up every once in a while, and not "Are you married?", although in today's society...marriage seems to mean nothing anyway- especially with regards to having children or not. I hope this isn't a comment on the stereotype of young women (especially minority women) in America today. That's pretty depressing to think that when people see a minority female who's in her mid 20s, they automatically assume she has multiple children...likely by multiple baby-daddies and all on welfare. I seriously doubt most people ask that particular question for that reason.

I really hope the question doesn't pop up because of my physical appearance. Please don't tell me I LOOK like I've had a ton of babies! That's actually more depressing than the previous reason. Though I will admit, I've been known to eat enough for two. :-)

Occasionally I do actually ask why people think I have children, and they'll comment on some competency I've exhibited (also makes me wonder just exactly how incompetent are my fellow 20somethings?). Sunday afternoon, I was making strawberry milk for the kids at the shelter among 10 million other things that were occurring simultaneously, and one of the women that was helping me in the kitchen asked me about my kids. When I told her I wasn't married, had no babies, and no prospects (much to my annoyance), her mouth popped open and she said, "Really?!" as if, surely, I was lying. I then asked, "Why did you think I had kids?" She said, "Well I figured that was the case since you're so good at doing a million things at once." I've heard that answer before, though I don't totally agree with it. Women just seem to be naturally better at multi-tasking, babies or none. I don't know that I'm any better at it than anyone else. Other answers I've gotten are, "With your personality, it just seems like you'd have a few kids," (Not sure I totally get that...having a certain personality = having babies?), or "The way you are with kids made me think you were a mom, yourself."

I think the most popular reason people assume I have children is because I spend so much time with kids. It seems to be a foreign concept to have a single person that WANTS to spend at least a little bit of time with children on a daily basis. How could you not want to hang out with a passel of babies?! Kids are the coolest people on the planet, and they're small enough to fit inside stuff. Drop some change between your seat and the middle console in your car? Grab a kid, and have their tiny little hands fish it out for you! Can't reach something on that top shelf? Hoist a kid up on your shoulders, and BAM! those cookies you had hidden in the back of the pantry are now yours to devour secretly (though you'll have to give the child one to keep them quiet).

Anywho, those were just some of my thoughts as I was running errands today. :-) Happy Monday!

Right on time

So you learn a lot about yourself and your parents when one of them is in the hospital. For the past few days, the three of us have been in this one largish hospital room with my slightly cantankerous father being the focal point. I've had a couple of medium sized realizations, that have been kind of cool. The first came to me this morning when the doctor suggested we go ahead and talk to a social worker about applying for disability benefits from social security. We talked about how my father likely will not be able to return to his job in the same position he was in before. My father really isn't wanting to return to the workforce at all, which is understandable since the man is almost 61, and obviously not in good health. I told my parents I could help them with the application process, and they sort of said "yeah, okay...let's go find the social worker." Mom and I went in search of the hospital sw, and when we talked to her, all she said was "you'll have to go to the Social Security office in your area. I can't do anything." I figured that's what she'd say...I could have saved us the trip down the hall.

Mom and I returned to my dad's room, and mom told him what the SW had said. They were soon trying to figure out what SS office they were supposed to go to, and what they would need. Meanwhile, I'd quietly slipped into the corner with my laptop, and had gone to the SS website. Within seconds, I had a list of the documents they would need, and the address of the appropriate SS office. I'd even started calling to set up an appointment, but the line was busy (big surprise). My parents were still trying to figure out what to do, and I finally shared the information I had with them. The both kind of looked at me, and I think I changed from "Oh, that's just our daughter who doesn't know anything," to "This is a professional who can help us." The conversation changed, and my mom started asking me what forms did she need to get, and how could she make an appointment. She's out now, with the little grocery list of info I told her they'd need, trying to get everything.

The second "Ah-ha!" moment happened sometime between Friday and right now. In a previous post, I mentioned being afraid to face my parent's aging/mortality as a single woman. I've come to realize now, that for the time being, I'm actually in a great position to deal with my parents' aging/health issues. Unlike my siblings, I'm freer to be here with them when they need it. For the past few days, I've been spending the night right at my father's bedside, making my mother eat, and keeping on top of the hospital staff. Don't get me wrong, my sister and her family have been here to visit, but they haven't been able to stay as long. My parents feel more comfortable asking me to do things, because they know I don't really have anyone depending on me (like children or a husband). Because I was the last one to leave home, I'm the one that most familiar with their day to day lives, which is helpful when talking to the nurses, doctors, SW's, etc. My point is, God knows what He's doing. I may not always be particularly happy with my singleness, but He's definitely got a purpose for it. He's incredibly faithful, and will meet me at the point of my needs...not prematurely, not late, but right on time. I see now why the song, "He's an On Time God" was written. :-)