Well, last night all that thinking was thrown out the window as I unexpectedly found myself drowning in a pile of tears, a fistful of used tissues in one hand and an iPhone in the other. I was talking to my sister and having what I can only describe as a full-on breakdown.

After the call and a much-needed episode of Freaks and Geeks, I drifted to sleep with an old Mae song running on repeat through my mind.

Oh, I’m waiting for the breakdown
Well nothing feels good being under the gun
Oh, I’m waiting for the breakdown
Is it ever going to come?

As far as I can tell, this song is about a boy waiting for his girlfriend to break up with him. I’ve listened to it on repeat all day today and I can’t actually make out if it’s a happy song or a sad song. All I know is that my episode last night triggered a Mae reunion concert in my mind. Because yours truly had a breakdown all her own.

• What triggered it? A conversation about this blog.
• Where did it lead? To me expressing my frustration with God.

Yep, I said it. I feel both guilty about it and relieved at the same time. Just admitting it lifted a weight off my shoulders, though — let’s face it — nothing has really been resolved.

Let me start at the beginning. I love this blog. I’ve been writing here for nearly two years. It’s been a journey with lots of peaks and valleys, but the overall experience has been positive. Then last night I hit a wall. I hit it hard, propelled by the inevitable question that haunts every freelance writer:

“How long should I write this before I quit?”

If I’m being honest, I set very specific goals for myself at the onset of this blogging adventure. Many of those goals have been achieved. But I still don’t have that book deal I’ve been working toward attaining. And, speaking to goals outside-of-yet-still-connected to this blog, I definitely don’t have that boyfriend or husband I’ve been working toward finding.

At some point — and this is precisely when the first tear fell — it all just gets terribly embarrassing.

Because I feel like a failure.

Because I feel like a joke.

Because I feel like the bearded lady at the circus, fingers pointed at me backed by laughter and ridicule.

Then all of these doubts and insecurities somehow turn my eyes upward, to the giver of all good things. And that’s when the frustration sets in.

I’m sure you’ve been asked the question: If you could know the exact moment you were going to die, would you want to know? I’ve always answered that question with a resounding no. I don’t want to live my life like Wile E. Coyote, constantly watching a fuse burn out. I want to live my life to the fullest, in the moment — regardless of when my last breath might be.

But as a frustrated blogger, discouraged writer, and disheartened single, that question morphs into another one for me: If you could know whether or not you’d ever get married, would you want to know? My answer, I’m afraid, is yes. I do want to know. And I’m — gulp — prepared for the fallout. Because, apart from last night’s breakdown, I’m a happy single! I promise! I have fun with my loving family and a great group of friends! I love my church and my job! Life is good!

If I’m meant to be single forever, I want to make the most of it. Instead of sitting around blogging about how I’d love to meet a great man, I can blog about how I’m going to be the next Apostle Paul or Mother Theresa, the next Sir Isaac Newton or Emily Dickinson — taking on the world without a piece of gold weighing down my left hand. I can set new life goals. I can adjust my dreams. I can move on.

A few years ago, I was having lunch in Austin, Texas, with a newly-engaged male friend, and he asked me about my dating life. I gave him the lowdown of the moment, and he replied with a statement I’ll never forget:

“I see you as someone who could be totally fine with being single forever.”

At the time I didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or a curse, but now I wonder about it. I’m sure I could be happy with any lot in life. I think it’s just the unknown that’s the hard part. So perhaps I’m waiting for an even greater breakdown than the one I had last night. I’m waiting for the breakdown — the play-by-play, the explanation of whether or not this whole thing is going to happen or not.

I’m fine either way, God. I promise. I just want to know.

And sorry I got mad at you yesterday. I didn’t mean it. It’s just hard sometimes.

What about you? Would you want to know?

~Ruth

That one where she opens up her plastic Easter eggs one by one, searching for that specific type of candy she likes. “All chocolate,” she mumbles, disappointed.

And that one where he sings “It’s a Small World After All” but cannot for the life of him remember the words to the verse, so he just keeps starting the whole song over and over and over.

And that one where she simply does not want to eat her salad and chicken, until she learns that she won’t get a cupcake unless she finishes her dinner, which she negotiates to equal exactly eight more bites.

And that one where he stands on a chair in the kitchen to help cook, meticulously cutting little chunks off of apple slices using the side of a spoon.

And that one where she starts dancing like crazy and singing “I can’t resist! I can’t resist!” even though she admittedly doesn’t know what those words even mean.

And that one where he doesn’t want to go to his Sunday School class and just stares at the camera, his beautiful brown eyes filling with tears.

And about 20 more video clips.

I watched them all. I laughed. I cried. Because I love these kids with all my heart and would do anything for them. Just like any mother would, right?

The only catch is they’re not exactly my kids. They belong to my sister and her husband. Details, details.

The truth is, just because I don’t have my own kids doesn’t make me any less connected to the kids in my life. And on days like Mother’s Day, I refuse to let society define me by whether or not I’ve been impregnated by a man. Because, what if that never happens? What if I never have the opportunity to have kids of my own?

In my earlier years, I imagined myself with a whole brood of little ones by this point. I imagined them all climbing trees and playing catch in the backyard. I imagined calling them in for dinner from the porch. I imagined them running in and giving me big hugs with their dirty little hands.

Life hasn’t exactly worked out that way. It’s hard to come to grips with why sometimes things work out and sometimes they don’t. It’s hard to understand why God would withhold something so good from me, something he calls a blessing in the Bible. It’s hard to comprehend why he’d give me such a strong desire to start a family and not provide a way to do it.

But then I remind myself, I’m already a great mom.

To those kids in Sunday School.

To my niece, my nephews.

To my neighbor’s boys that I babysit.

To my friends’ children.

To the precious ones at the orphanage.

To my godson.

To the little girl I met on the bus.

Time is a funny thing. It unknowingly and unfairly makes life a race, a contest. But time is just a tool for us to measure when the church service starts or when the next Blue Line train will pull into the station. Time is not the end-all qualifier of our success in life. As much as I know this to be true, I too often let myself forget it. But not today.

Today I throw out the clocks and calendars. I rip up the checklists and bucket lists. And I choose to love, to live, to appreciate — in this very moment, with exactly what I have right now.

So to all the moms out there, Happy Mother’s Day — whether or not you have children of your own. You are loved.

~Ruth

I spent many, many of my teenage hours weeks months years at a small New Jersey church taking part in every activity under the sun: Sunday School, youth group, choir, worship team, car washes, renovation projects, coffee houses, administration, etc. One of my favorite activities was a self-created one, which I proudly titled, “Stump the Youth Pastor.” It involved a series of questions shot out like ammo from a semi-automatic weapon, pelting those poor pastors into states of sheer frustration. (No wonder they never lasted long at our church. I’m starting to feel guilty about that.)

Like that one time during youth group we talked about sex before marriage and I raised my hand.

“How far is too far?”

“Well, um… Uh…”

There was a spattering of laughter and base numbers thrown out from the audience, although I still doubt that we’re all on the same page as to what each base refers to. (First base is holding hands, right?)

Then, just as the poor youth pastor’s face begins to return to its normal color, I raise my annoying teenage hand again.

“How close is too close?”

(Looking back, that’s a clever play on words, clearly paving a career path for yours truly.)

I never got a definitive answer from my church leaders, and at the time I wasn’t really interested in the answer. I was more interested in the shock factor – the embarrassed looks, the giggles from my peers, the bouts of uncomfortable silence. What was wrong with me? (You should know I was voted Class Clown in both middle school and high school.)

Another time, I remember the introduction of the inevitable question at hand regarding “The One.” Let’s break it down.

On the one hand: God’s got it all in control. He created me and he knows me. He knows who I will marry. He knows what I need in a husband. He knows the unique traits I can offer a spouse. So, naturally, when I was created, he created my partner as well – my perfect match. And when I find that special someone, I’ll know it. It’ll be an “Aha!” moment, a flash of a light bulb, a crash of thunder. He’ll be exactly what I’ve been waiting for my whole life. And we’ll live happily ever after.

On the other hand: What are you? Crazy? There are seven billion people on this planet and only one of them is for me? How bleak!

• What if said person was born in India? Here I am looking around Washington, D.C., for my future husband when he’s halfway across the planet. Seems impossible.
• What if he decides to marry someone else because he’s sick of waiting for his perfect soul mate? Guess that leaves me out of luck.
• What if he chooses to walk a different path of faith? I know I want to marry a Christian. So I guess I either settle for second best or reluctantly sign that vow of singlehood forever.
• What if?

On the other, other hand: Perhaps it’s a combination of the two. Perhaps the same God who created the universe does have it all in his control, but not without allowing us to choose our own paths, too. Perhaps the same God who created my inmost being knows exactly what my heart desires and what I need in a husband. Perhaps the God who leads me down paths of righteousness will lead me to a wonderful man who’s courageous enough to just put a ring on it already.

I’ve met in my life many men who could be great husbands for me. And I’m sure there are men out there who’ve met me and thought, “She’d be a great wife.” With God’s guidance and grace, I can commit to any one of these men, be faithful, raise a family, and build a life together.

I just haven’t found him yet — the man I feel strongly for, and the man who feels strongly for me in return.

So, in the eyes and heart of this Jersey girl, I’d say I’m not waiting for “the one” man on the planet that God created just for me before time began.

But I am waiting for that one man that I will choose to commit to marry and love… for as long as we both shall live.

~Ruth

On my final night there, we ordered a few pizza pies from a local joint and gathered around the table for — wait for it — more eating and talking. (If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, right?) I found myself in a particularly heartfelt, honest conversation with my brother, his wife, and my cousin, Daniel. We talked about faith and how sometimes it’s hard to believe in God, sometimes it’s hard to understand his ways. We each had areas of faith we struggled with, yet all somehow landed on the same playing field in the stadium of mere humanity.

Between bites of pizza and garlic knots, I shared that it’s not always easy trusting God to bring me a husband. And it was then that my 22-year-old cousin taught me a pretty important life lesson. Here’s how it went down:

I mentioned that I’ve been praying for my husband, but God still hasn’t answered that prayer. So we turned to my little cousin — who’s also single — and asked:

“Do you pray for a wife, Daniel?”

And without hesitation, he answered simply:

“Well, I don’t pray for a wife. I pray for a girlfriend.”

Whoa! Light bulb! Fireworks! Sirens! Hello? Are you with me?

My sister-in-law looked at me with exclamation points in her eyes and shrieked, “Maybe you need to pray for a boyfriend first! Don’t just jump to a husband!”

And then my brother chimed in with his annoying brotherly humor, “Yeah, it’s like praying for your kids’ college education before you even pray for kids.”

Okay, okay. I know sometimes it takes me a while to get things, but I think I’ve finally latched onto something here. And I can’t help but hear my girl Jordin Sparks singing softly in the background:

One step at a time
There’s no need to rush
It’s like learning to fly
Or falling in love
It’s gonna happen
When it’s supposed to happen
And we find the reasons why
One step at a time

Perhaps instead of attempting to leap forward like some kind of Spider-Man, I need to just settle into a pair of cute high heels like the ones Jordin donned on that American Idol stage — and take one step at a time. My blog, after all, is called I Kissed My Date Goodnight, not I Kissed My Husband Good Morning. As sexy as the latter sounds, if I were to jump to that before dating, I’d be mortified.

I have no plans to meet my husband at the altar. I have no intention of getting set up in some forced, arranged marriage. I have zero interest in being surprised on my wedding day.

I plan to date. I plan to get to know a great guy on various dates to various places, eating various foods and watching various romantic comedies. I plan to hold his hand, to look into his eyes, and to ask him all about his life, his childhood, his dreams. I plan to kiss him goodnight. Many, many times.

So perhaps my little cousin was right. It might do me some good to start praying for a great boyfriend. Yes, I’ll pray that he has the qualities I’m looking for in a husband, and I’ll pray that he has the godly character to become a strong family man. But it’s a process. Rome wasn’t built in a day. My wedding isn’t going to happen tomorrow.

Deep breath.

One step at a time.

Now, who wants a slice of pepperoni?

~Ruth

Well, it’s already almost Wednesday and I still haven’t posted this week. In the spirit of honesty, you should know I feel quite unmotivated. On top of putting in an insane amount of hours at work this week, I’m facing a bad case of writer’s block based solely on lack of material. (Translation: I haven’t had a date in a while.)

But just in the nick of time, just when this little blogger was questioning her commitment to the whole blogging phenomenon altogether — a reader catapulted a nugget of writing gold to me over the Internet.

I love getting emails from readers, and I get them for all sorts of different reasons. Some love my blog and want to thank me for writing something they can relate to. Some hate my blog and think I’m a fraud. Some need dating advice. Some want to give me dating advice. Some think I should date them. (Oh, dear.)

Today, I received an email from Julie in Beantown. Before I get into Julie’s piece of dating glitter, let me say: We stand by you, Julie, and the entire city of Boston right now. We support you!

So let’s get back to Julie’s email. I opened it in anticipation.

I bet she loves my blog and wants to thank me!

I bet she thinks I’m smart and wants dating advice from me!

I bet she wants to know how I got to be so cool!

I soon learned my anticipation was slightly misguided, and ridiculously egotistical.

You see, Julie had read a Boston Innovation article about how far people stretch the truth on their online dating profiles. The article detailed a survey conducted by Whatsyourprice.com, an “online dating auction.” (I can’t vouch for the site or the survey, but let’s throw our journalistic integrity to the wind and just go crazy here.) The survey polled men and women around the country to find out who’s fibbing and who’s telling the truth when it comes to online dating.

And guess what?! Boston online daters are among the most honest in the nation! How do you like them apples? I smiled. I want only the best for Julie, my new friend from the magical land of Dunkin’ Donuts. And the best includes a man who’s going to be honest and real with her from day one. Here’s hoping her Marky Mark is right around the corner waiting to sweep her off her feet with self-descriptions that represent exactly who he is — no more, no less.

But wait. Stop the cah, ya chowdahead. There’s a whole ‘notha thing goin’ on. Julie wasn’t just writing in so I could share in her newfound elation. She, as any good friend should, was writing with a warning. And it wasn’t a pretty one.

Apparently men in my dear city — the Nation’s capital — are big fat liars. Check out the online dating scene here in Washington, D.C., and you’ll find that 37 percent of men are lying on their profiles. About what? Survey says: mostly career and education.

Oooh, here’s a cute guy! He’s an attorney in Rosslyn.

Truth: He’s a law school dropout living in his mom’s basement.

Hey! This man works at a nonprofit helping kids with disabilities. How sweet is that?

Truth: He donated to a nonprofit once.

This guy graduated first in his class at Harvard!

Truth: He graduated from “Stansbury College, the Haaaarvard of the West.” (Thanks, Jessie Spano.)

Here’s how the results of this obviously-non-scientific-yet-still-thought-provoking survey panned out:

The Most Honest Cities for Online Dating

MEN 
1. Houston
2. Phoenix
3. Boston
4. Pittsburgh
5. Chicago

WOMEN
1. Charlotte
2. Houston
3. Minneapolis
4. Seattle
5. Phoenix

The Least Honest Cities for Online Dating

MEN
1. Washington D.C. (Career & Education) 37%
2. San Francisco (Career & Money Earned) 35%
3. New York (Everything) 34%
4. Philadelphia (Height & Money Earned) 33%
5. Miami (Relationship Status & Height) 31%

WOMEN
1. Las Vegas (Age & Career) 39%
2. Washington D.C. (Career & Education) 37%
3. Atlanta (Age & Weight) 36%
4. Los Angeles (Age & Weight) 35%
5. New York (Age & Career) 33%

Looking at these “results” more closely, it appears that men in D.C. aren’t the only ones with their pants on fire. Survey says that women in my fair city are also big fat liars, with 37 percent of them also lying on their online profiles, mainly about career and education as well. This is disturbing on so many levels.

Whenever I ask someone — man or woman — about the most important character trait in a partner, it’s inevitable that they share the same response: honesty. Yet when it comes to online dating, we take liberties to stretch the truth — or flat-out lie — in order to increase our chances of finding someone great. Because all great relationships are built on a foundation of lies, right?

Lying is becoming all too easy in today’s day and age, particularly with the prevalence of social media and the Internet. And when it comes to dating, it really creeps me out. Let’s not take this survey too seriously. After all, it was “conducted” by “experts” at an “online dating auction.” But let’s still consider how truthful we’re being to others about ourselves — both online and in person.

Because if you put on your profile that you’re a huge fan of the band Dr. Shlomo and the G.I. Clinic, I’m calling you out — you and all your fake hipster friends! 

(Another great installment of Lie Witness News with Jimmy Kimmel!)

Stayin’ true to who I am,

~Ruth

A male reader recently wrote me to ask: When is the right time to quit online dating? 

As you know, I’m a big proponent of online dating. I’ve tried it, I’ve enjoyed it, I’ve been matched with some great men. On the other hand, I’ve tried it, I’ve hated it, I’ve been matched with some real freakazoids. But, come on, that’s the nature of dating in general, not just online dating. It has its ups and downs. We all know this going into it.

The challenge with online dating, however, is twofold.

1.) Money doesn’t grow on trees. Online dating ain’t free! Yeah, eHarmony has those “free communication weekends,” but any experienced online dater has learned that’s just the slimy worm on the hook tied to the fishing line that leads to signing up for a full membership in order to enjoy the full capabilities of the site. Why, you little tricksters! In all seriousness, that’s fine. We’ve all got businesses to run and money to make. I don’t blame the dating sites. But how long is too long to pay $20-50 per month to not meet the man or woman of your dreams? What’s the cap? $500? $1,000? $2,000? A Kia Optima? A downpayment on a house?

2.) Time doesn’t grow on clocks. Translation: Online dating is what classy people call a “time suck.” If you’ve done it, you know. It is work! Filling out the profile alone takes hours and hours. Those 29 dimensions of compatibility are apparently buried underneath mounds of super secret data that must be uncovered meticulously by Neil Clark Warren’s matchmaker hands. (Why do I keep picking on that poor old man? I love him!) Then after you sign up, the work continues. Checking your matches, reaching out, messaging, emailing, asking the same get-to-know-you questions over and over and over… I’m getting exhausted just writing about it.

So in the spirit of the American capitalism that serves as the foundation of this great nation, we the consumers must make some tough decisions. How long do we continue using our service providers even after our service providers aren’t providing the service they claim to provide? (Tongue twister!)

But, Ruth… we’re talking about love here. You can’t manufacture love. It’s not a product to be sold. It’s more complicated than that!

Fine. I see your point. Nonetheless, online dating is expensive and time consuming. I should be getting something for that investment, right?

You may remember that at the end of last year I decided to give online dating a break for a while. I was receiving nearly zero matches, and even those were quite pathetic (the compatibility level, not the men). I felt burnt-out, fried and just plain tired of it all. And that right there is precisely when you know it’s time to take a break. Light bulb moment!

• When you are so frustrated by the system that you can’t appreciate its good qualities, it’s time to take a break.
• When all you do is complain about online dating instead of excitedly checking your matches each night, it’s time to cancel the subscription.
• When you haven’t checked your matches in three weeks and you don’t have any motivation to even log in, it’s time to call it quits.

Because no program will work if you’re not into it. This goes for programs at work, in sports, in weight loss. There’s the participation factor. eHarmomy or Match.com don’t claim to do all the work for you. They set up the matches, but you have to reach out and engage.

So if you’ve been doing the online thing for a year or two or five, and you find yourself getting bored or frustrated with the whole thing, ask yourself if you’re — as Randy the Dog Jackson says — “in it to win it.” Because if you’re not, it might be time to take a break.

And that is okay.

But I’m warning you based on my recent experience: Once you click on that unsubscribe button, you will suddenly be solely responsible for your dating life. So may the force be with you, may you suddenly run into very cute potential mates in random public places, and may you instantly grow the courage to walk up and talk to them. It ain’t easy, but no one ever said it would be.

Still hopeful!

~Ruth

After watching only the first episode, the jury’s still out on how I feel about this show. But I must admit I was lured in by the sole male matchmaker, Matt Hussey. I find myself completely intrigued by everything he says. Perhaps it’s his sexy British accent or his sheer I-know-everything-about-women confidence, but it’s definitely Hitch meets He’s Just Not That Into You, and I’ve fallen deep.

After Bachelor Number One (who happens to be the ever-so-sweet Tim Lopez of the band, Plain White T’s) finished his first-round dating extravaganza, the matchmakers sat down to review the dates with the ladies. What did they do right? What did they do wrong? I’m embarrassed to say I found this portion of this reality show enlightening, particularly when Matt reviewed Hailey’s date. He made an observation that really stuck with me:

In the date there was a moment when you called yourself an old maid. Now I can guarantee you, he wasn’t even thinking it. But here’s the problem: As soon as you put an insecurity on their radar, you just planted that seed. It’s like if I say to all of you, “Don’t think of a pink elephant.” What do you think of now? Pink elephant. That’s there forever. He thinks you’re a goddess. Don’t mess that up.

As I heard these words, I felt huge, red, cartoon arrows drop from the sky and point at me from one hundred different angles screaming, Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Wow, have I been there.

Let’s face it: I’m the queen of the self-deprecating one-liner.

Oh, I’m such a moron! (Giggle, giggle.)

Well, for a big girl like me… (Forced smile.)

I’m an idiot. (Look away.)

I mean, when you’re single at my age… (Uncomfortable laugh.)

When conversations get personal or intimate, or I feel even the least bit unsure of myself, I resort to pointing out something about myself that I shouldn’t.

Sometimes they’re complete lies. I know I’m not really an idiot.

And sometimes they’re truths that are placed in a terribly negative light. Yes, I need to lose weight, but why should that even come into the conversation?

I saw a lot of myself in Hailey. I mean, apart from the obvious tall-blonde-leggy-supermodel plight we’ve both been cursed with. (Oh no! Did I just do it again?) Hailey’s funny and can use comedy to cut through awkward tension, making people feel more comfortable and relaxed. She’s real, seems smart, and is an elementary school art teacher — which is something I’d likely enjoy doing. And she often resorts to talking about farts, which according to one female matchmaker is a word that should never come up on a date. (Dear Matchmaker, I take it you didn’t grow up being fart-bombed by a slew of brothers?)

Despite all these great, attractive qualities Hailey and I share, we are both quite insecure about what we have to offer on a date. From the outside, we might seem confident and pulled together. But on the inside, we’re questioning every little thing and, unfortunately, often verbalizing those thoughts.

• Am I pretty enough? I’m sure he’s thinking he could do better.
• Am I thin enough? I wonder if this outfit hides all my not-so-great parts.
• Am I smart enough? I bet I’m not keeping up on all these conversation topics.
• Am I fun enough? My laugh is starting to sound staged inside my head.

And the insecurities just go round and round in my head like a Ferris wheel. But I seem to forget that I’m already on the date. I seem to forget that this man actually asked me out. He wanted to take me out to dinner or a movie or a stroll around town. And from Matt’s experienced (and male) perspective, he wouldn’t have asked me out if he thought I was an unattractive, boring idiot.

The truth is we’re all insecure about something. Even the hottest supermodels and the smartest Big-Bang-Theory-level physicists and the most successful stand-up comedians and the richest business entrepreneurs are insecure about something. And that goes for both men and women. So no matter how perfect and confident your date may seem, the truth is he’s probably sitting there wondering if he’s hot enough, if he’s smart enough, if he’s successful enough, if he’s cool enough. And he might just be fighting the urge to let out a self-deprecating comment or two.

So for Hailey, me, and all the other singles out there, we might do best to focus on the positive things about ourselves. Don’t plant seeds of insecurities that’ll grow into huge pink elephants, stomping out any chances of relationship success. Like Matt said, “He thinks you’re a goddess. Don’t mess that up.”

Goddess, eh? Now that’s something I could get used to.

~Ruth

I’ve lived in towns and cities of all sizes — from quaint, suburban villages (think Gilmore Girls) to huge, bustling cities (think Sex and the City), and everything in between. Every move came with exciting adventures and unique challenges, and every move offered a very different experience with regard to dating.

In each location — after a year or two, after a few dates or a few dozen dates — I’d inevitably hit dating lulls, as is the natural order of things. Peaks and valleys, monsoons and droughts. Without fail, I’d hear advice from a family member or a friend: Maybe you should try a new city. A fresh batch of available, incredible men. A new playing field, a new litter, a new opportunity.

In all my moves over all these years, I can honestly say I’ve never moved because I wanted a new dating scene. But I have — in the midst of a move prompted by other reasons — looked forward to a new dating scene.

I mean, the grass has got to be greener over there, right?

• Live in a small town? The dating must be better in a bigger town.
• Live in a medium-sized city? You need a thriving metropolis!
• Live in the conservative Bible belt? Try a more liberal city where people are more open to dating.
• Live in a more liberal city? Try a more conservative city where people are ready to settle down and marry.
• Live on a farm? You need to be around more people!
• Live in the suburbs? Move near the action!
• And the list goes on…

I feel like I’ve tried everything on this list. Well, except the farm. Although my family did have goats and sheep when I was a kid. (R.I.P. Sparkle the Goat.) So here I am living in a metro area of 5 million people. And now that I think about it, sometimes I look around and don’t even see any grass, let alone grass that’s greener.

Does living in a bigger city automatically make it easier to find love? Is my probability of getting a good date more likely simply because there are more men around? In my experience, I’d have to argue that not only is it not easier, but in some respects it can be harder.

There are some days when I long for the simplicity of the small town life. I long for Melanie Smooter’s days in Alabama over Melanie Carmichael’s days in New York City — at least from a dating perspective. Because between all the big city meet-ups and online dating, the speed dating and the happy hours, the matchmaking and the corporate functions — I’m tired.

If I were to move back to a small town, though, the math works against me. There are simply less men. They say there are always more fish in the sea, unless, of course, you move to a little town far, far away from the water. Then you might just end up being like Belle.

Little town, it’s a quiet village
Every day like the one before
Little town full of little people, waking up to say,
Bonjour!
Bonjour!
Bonjour!
Bonjour!
Bonjour!

There goes the baker with his tray like always
The same old bread and rolls to sell
Every morning just the same since the morning that we came
To this poor provincial town

“Good morning, Belle!” says the baker, cheerfully. But is that baker single? Is he interested in me? Is he my type? Is he, literally, the only single man in this small town? And to make it worse, this is the kind of place where everybody knows everybody’s business. And sometimes I think the townspeople would think I’m “that crazy single girl with the dating blog.”

Look there she goes, that girl is strange no question
Dazed and distracted, can’t you tell?
Never part of any crowd
‘Cause her head’s up on some cloud
No denying she’s a funny girl, that Belle

In a big city, at least I blend in (somewhat). At least I can walk in the middle of the crowds and not be singled out for being, well, single. At least I have some semblance of anonymity.

Look there she goes that girl is so peculiar
I wonder if she’s feeling well
With a dreamy far-off look
And her nose stuck in a book
What a puzzle to the rest of us is Belle

Yep, that’s me. I often have a dreamy, far-off look in my eyes as I ride the Metro to and from work each day, imagining what could be, who he could be. I often have my nose stuck in a book… or in a blog. And I’ve been described as puzzling on more than one occasion.

I’m different, yes. A little strange even, sure. But does that mean I have to settle for burly, brawny Gaston and his five dozen eggs? If only the people around me could see what I see… and read what I’ve written!

Oh! Isn’t this amazing?
It’s my favorite part because, you’ll see
Here’s where she meets Prince Charming
But she won’t discover that it’s him ’til chapter three

You think Belle would’ve ever met The Beast if she lived in the hustle of The Big Apple? You think their paths would’ve ever crossed? And on the other hand, had beautiful Belle lived in a big city, perhaps she would’ve found a nice, suitable man much sooner and eliminated the need to fall in love with a prince-turned-hairy-beast in order to break a mystic spell cast by an enchantress to free her father from a cold, dark prison tower. Just a thought.

Location, location, location.

Who knows where the road will lead me in the coming months and years — perhaps to an even bigger city, perhaps back to a small, provincial town. For now, I’m waiting on my chapter three, wherever it may take place.

~Ruth

]]> https://ruthrutherford.wordpress.com/2013/04/08/location-location-location/feed/ 18 ruthrutherford Real Estate Signs Belle 1 Belle 2 https://ruthrutherford.wordpress.com/2013/04/04/thrift-shop-love/ https://ruthrutherford.wordpress.com/2013/04/04/thrift-shop-love/#comments Thu, 04 Apr 2013 12:54:02 +0000 Ruth Rutherford http://ruthrutherford.wordpress.com/?p=3203 Continue reading »

When Seattle-based rapper Macklemore and his producer Ryan Lewis set out to make the “anti-rap,” there was no more fitting title than “Thrift Shop.” It’s the last place a rapper would ever want to be seen. True gangstas only hang out in da clubs drinking expensive bubbly and making it rain hundred-dollar bills, yo. Gold chains, diamond studs, flashy grills, Bentleys, mansions — you’ve seen the videos. But Macklemore said enough is enough.

The song “Thrift Shop” is about, well, buying stuff in a thrift shop. And despite what some might think was a joke, the song rocketed to number one on the charts. Could it be that listeners actually resonated with lyrics about green alligator-skin shoes and leopard minks? About smelly clothes and Velcro shoes?

Now please, if you haven’t heard the song, don’t go Googling it. This is neither the time nor the place. I can’t vouch for the language and I’d rather not be tied to it. But the concept — there’s something to that. There’s something compelling about lyrics we can, in essence, relate to — in this case, lyrics about clothes we can actually afford.

Which is why today’s topic hits so close to home. Meet K.K. and David, who made their own parody of “Thrift Shop,” just minutes after they became engaged to marry. Check it out.

{Watch it on YouTube here: http://youtu.be/Y_CWwAyXhmw}

If you’re anything like me, you were mesmerized watching this fun, hip, intoxicating video. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen and I couldn’t get the beat outta my head! But perhaps there’s more to this story than just a couple good lookin’ folks getting their dance on and getting hitched. I had what we in the journalism business call a hankering. So I set out to interview K.K. and David, and here’s what I found out.

They were just two little rascals who grew up in Oklahoma City. He’s now got some killer dance moves and works as a cinematographer. (You didn’t think a normal person shot that video on their iPhone, did you?) She’s now got a killer smile and works as a beauty consultant. Their paths crossed at church and they fell in love. Sounds like a perfect Tom-Hanks-Meg-Ryan love story, doesn’t it?

Not so fast. This ain’t no Sleepless in Oklahoma City.

You see, there were a few massive ditches in the road before this couple reached their happy ending. And they were open and honest enough to share them with me — with all of us — knowing that their story of God’s grace might just resonate with others. I can tell you right now that it has already touched my heart.

David was raised in the church, attended a Christian university, and eventually wound up back at church working in ministry. He was married, but it wasn’t going well. And his eventual divorce played a part in him stepping down from his church role.

K.K. was raised in poverty by a single mom, until she was 11 and her mom remarried a wonderful man. She vividly remembers her mom relying on Jesus to provide for them. Still, K.K. felt a void in her life, and admits that she tried to fill it with men. She found herself trapped in an abusive relationship and got pregnant at age 19. After leaving her boyfriend, she set off to raise her son on her own. She named him Judah, which means praise. Her young life seemed to be turning around.

But several years down the road, K.K. got lonely. It’s not easy being a single mom. She started seeking the wrong kind of attention again. And that’s when she met David.

But at this time, he was still married.

Both K.K. and David expressed to me separately that they know they made some terrible life decisions — ones that hurt both themselves and others… and God. But in David’s own words:

God, in his extravagant goodness, has restored the brokenness that was my life.

And straight from K.K.’s mouth:

I’ve experienced levels of grace that I literally never could’ve imagined prior to this! Looking back, I can see how God had his hand of provision on me and how he has been pursuing me my entire life…

So the road that brought K.K. and David together was not ideal by any stretch of the imagination. At times, it wasn’t even paved with good intentions, let alone gold. And this post may pinch a few nerves across the blogosphere. But I believe there is freedom in honesty, and I believe there is freedom in grace.

God continued to till the soil of their hearts even while they were dating. David experienced a jealous love for her, and realized in a small way the intense jealousy God feels for his children. K.K. felt the true love of a man for the first time, and felt the love of God the Father wrap around her like a warm summer.

And then God made it rain.

Now we watch this video and get a small glimpse into the lives of these two brave and extraordinary souls. We see them dancing in joy, in freedom. We see them surrounded by the support of friends and family. (Hate to break it to you ladies, but tattood-chest-red-pimp-hat is married. I already asked.) We see her precious kid, Judah, breakdancing or doing downward facing dog, no one really knows. (Hate to break it to you, but this little lovebug isn’t up for adoption. I already asked.)

I know a lot of singles out there looking for relationships filled with the gold chains and the mansions and the Bentleys. They’ve set unrealistic expectations to find the perfect mate and have the perfect marriage. But the truth of the matter is that we’re all far from perfect.

I’d like to propose something simpler. I’d like to propose Grandpa’s plaid button-up shirt and Grandma’s coat. Yeah, they may smell a little funky, but they’ve sure lasted a long time. And just like the grandpas and grandmas that have gone before, perhaps our relationships can be based on more meaningful stuff — the hand-me-downs of trust, honesty, and strong faith in a loving and incredibly gracious God.

Now that’s a love worth dancing for.

~Ruth

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In the first three months of online dating, Lisa met up with three different guys.

Date #1: He was nice and funny. Lisa enjoyed hanging out with him. But the more she got to know him, the more she knew that he wasn’t the one for her. To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t attracted to him. Being someone that had struggled with accepting her appearance in the past, I imagine this dichotomy was difficult for Lisa to accept. Her date tried really hard to kiss her, but she simply didn’t want it to happen.

Date #2: This guy was confident and funny, and Lisa was “way too attracted to him.” It felt good. But the more she got to know him, she realized they didn’t share a common faith, which is really important to her. As she wrestled with this imbalance, she let him kiss her. It only made it harder to break things off, which she did finally work up the courage to do.

Date #3: This guy didn’t last past the first date.

Three different dates. Three different guys. Three different disappointments. Now what? In Lisa’s own words:

Not that I believe that I wasted my time at all, but I came away from these three months even more discontent and frustrated. After meeting these guys, I am more aware of what I want and should be praying for in a future husband. Now I am struggling with what to do next. (This might sound like a rant.) I hate being in the waiting time and being patient. I feel like this will never happen for me. Perhaps I have too high of expectations or standards and no one will ever meet them.

And that’s where she left it. Blunt and brutal honesty — just the kind I like. I remember reading this letter and thinking, I feel your pain. Because I truly, truly do! I’ve been there. I’ve done that. I’ve met man after man through online dating — some dates better than others — and have found myself, again and again, left alone in the end.

frus•trat•ed /ˈfrəsˌtrātid/
Adjective
Feeling or expressing distress and annoyance, especially because of inability to change or achieve something.

I consider myself both a positive person and a realist. I don’t deny that the hard stuff in life exists, but I also don’t deny myself the right to smile through it. So for Lisa, I immediately found myself searching for the silver lining, which wasn’t hard to find at all. You see, I consider Lisa’s story a raging dating success.

You might be thinking, A success? She had three dates in a row that didn’t work out. How is that a success?

I see you. And I raise you 12 Lucky Charms. And I ask you this question: What constitutes a successful date or match?

If your answer is marriage, calm down. It’s daunting to think that the only way a date could be successful is if it leads to marriage. That would mean every date you ever go on is a failure until you meet your husband or wife. That can’t be right.

So what is it? What is it that constitutes a successful date or match?

• A connection?
• A spark?
• A paid-for dinner?
• Delightful conversation?
• A kiss?
• A roll in the hay?
• Pregnancy? (I kid, people.)

I’d like to propose that a successful date or match is simply an opportunity to learn more about yourself. It’s an interaction or an experience where you discover more about yourself and what you’re looking for in your ultimate match. And in this regard, Lisa is wildly successful. After all, she did say: “After meeting these guys, I am more aware of what I want and should be praying for in a future husband.”

Lisa, you are miles further down the road than you were just three months ago. Hang in there! No, I can’t save you from the pitfalls of online dating (of which there are many). But I can say with complete certainty that you are moving in the right direction.

Be true to yourself.

Be true to your faith.

Be true to the journey.

Well that last one sounds a little Oprah-esque, but you get what I mean, right? It won’t be long before you have one of those annoying stories about how “you just knew when you knew.” And I guarantee I’ll roll my eyes while you tell it, all the while smiling in my heart.

~Ruth

*Name changed to protect this incredibly brave reader’s privacy