Thank God, Summer is Rushing Here

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Exactly a month has passed since I wrote something on my computer that isn’t a work schedule or cover letter. I know I was supposed to continue that series about my career makeover but…it just felt a little too narcissistic. Do you all really care about my makeover? I can’t imagine that you do. If you are interested in my evolution of style, you can follow my instagram.

What’s brought this blog to a standstill has been an utter lack of passion. Until this week, it had been months since I’d had even the slightest spark of inspiration or pettiest of crushes. I just couldn’t get myself to commit to hunting for my Muse during that long winter (which practically ran through April). My venture into online dating was a similarly fruitless attempt to get my blood boiling again. Besides providing me with some casual amusement and one dud of a date, it proved entirely ineffective. I found myself completely uninterested in dating at all (I couldn’t even care enough to attempt adopting a new male sidekick).

Thank God, we’re finally rushing into summer. These sunny warm days, and the mix tapes that my friend Carrie recently sent me, have been thawing my frozen passions. When I drove home this week chuckling about harmlessly, and shamelessly, hitting on a guy friend and then got teased for flirting it up with a cute guy at my work, I knew I was back to my usual quixotic self (I hate to admit it but I really love being overtly and idly flirtatious with good looking men).

Reviving my absurdity revives my intellect as well. Odd a pair as they may be, they have a symbiotic relationship for me. Last night, I stayed up until the early hours of the morning working on a project I’m hoping to unveil to you all later this week. Until then, know that I’m still alive. Soon you’ll have more interesting things to read from me.

Here’s my current favorite song from Carrie’s mixed tape:

Career Makeover

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I mentioned, briefly, in my last post that part of what’s been occupying my time has been giving myself a professional makeover. It all started with that job hunt I began at the beginning of the year.

In the process of preparing to enter a career job, I realized that my professional wardrobe was pathetic. For starters, it was tiny. I barely had enough clothes for five outfits. Since a few don’t even fit my at this weight, I wouldn’t have made it a full week. On top of that, none of them were really me. They were all from the semester I worked for a financial planner in NYC. You can see how much I hated that job in how drab and boring my wardrobe was: dark colors, plain pencil skirts, ugly tights and a sheath dress. What was I thinking?!

As a rule, I’m not overly fond of pencil skirts. They can be flattering but, unless they are stretchy, they’re entirely uncomfortable. They restrict your movement so much you feel like you can barely do anything in them. The same is true of sheath dresses. (If you’ve never worn either, try taping your legs together with duct tape and you’ll get an idea of what I’m talking about). I personally believe that an outfit/item of clothing should be functional, beautiful and at least relatively comfortable. For this reason, I’ve always been more of a fan of A-line and maxi skirts. As long as you make sure to wear shorts underneath them, they’re nearly as practical as pants and more attractive (plus, they’re just plain fun to wear). I used to have a large collection. Somehow, I was down to two (and I really don’t know if my long, crimson maxi skirt is really potential “office wear”).

Worst of all were the drab colors. My wardrobe had become populated with grey. I hardly like grey. I certainly don’t like it enough to want to wear it more than once a week. I prefer bright/bold colors. As is obvious from the four signature colors that show up a lot in my closet: royal blue and crimson in fall/winter;  teal and fuchsia in spring/summer. I also like to wear kelly green, coral, robin’s egg blue, purple, cranberry and a little yellow (though only as an accent color). The only neutral colors I like to wear frequently are black and white, both of which are bold in a different way. Back in January, my bag of scarves contained the most colorful pieces in my wardrobe.

If I was going to get a “grown up job,” this needed to change. I don’t know about everyone else out there but what I wear effects my mood. I’m convinced that this boring professional wardrobe was among the reasons, when I worked for that financial planner, that I couldn’t get Pi Patel’s statement out of my head:

“I have nothing to say of my working life, only that a tie is a noose, and inverted though it is, it will hang a man nonetheless if he’s not careful.”

I started thinking about the kind of image I’d like to have as a career woman. As I began dreaming up my ideal professional wardrobe (which involved spending a lot of time playing dress up at Target and Marshals as well as browsing online), I realized that I already had a strong sense of my personal style. Even though my closet didn’t reflected my taste, I know what I like and what looks good on me. My style can be summed up pretty easily in one word: personality.

My style isn’t especially wild, and it’s certainly not super glam. Still, it makes a statement. What I like are well put together looks that are expressive without being chaotic or outrageous. I really enjoy subtle juxtapositions like pairing a simple outfit with loud jewelry or throwing a romantic element into a classic look. Instead of overwhelming people with color, I like to use it wisely (which explains why all my shoes are boring colors. I rarely choose to make my statement with my shoes).

Instead of rushing out and buying everything I could find that fits this style, I’ve been prudent. Out of each of my paychecks, I’ve allotted myself a modest wardrobe allowance. Slowly but surely my professional wardrobe is taking shape.

Here are a collection of looks from my Pinterest that really capture what I’m talking about:

FashforFashion

I own a shirt almost exactly like that. It’s one of my favorites. Though I usually pair it with black jeans and more earthy jewelry (I really have thing for African jewelry).

Helloframboise

Most of my friends know that I’m obsessed with shirts like this. Though I prefer ones that are a little more fitted. I don’t really like pearls but I’d wear a necklace that big.

Kendieeveryday

The only thing I’d change about this outfit, if I was going to wear it, is that I’d choose an orange sweater.

LaurenbergerBuzznet

This is an absolutely perfect picture of my style.

OliveObserverBlog

In terms of personality, this is a perfect image of the type of blazer that works on me.

Sartorialist

I’d wear this in a heart beat.

UStrendy

Much like this woman, I pull of ruffles like this very well. I love how this shirt looks both casual and dressy at the same time. I’d pair it with dress pants.

Style

That skirt is in one of my signature colors. It’s just the type of skirt I’d own. Though I’d never pair it with that jacket or scarf.

Dieting & Devotions

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Out here in eastern Michigan, winter has been lingering around like a guy who just can’t take a hint. While outside my window there has been bright, beautiful spring-y sunshine for the past three days, it still practically feels like winter (this morning when I woke up it was 22 degrees). I haven’t coped well with this winter. I’ve been lethargic. I’ve been withdrawn. And I’ve gained 10 pounds!

10 pounds. It doesn’t sound like that much. Years ago I would have laughed (internally, of course) at someone who made a big deal about a measly 10 pounds. But, now, I get those women’s distress. Back when I was wearing plus sizes, 10 pounds hardly made me go up a pant size. To really do damage, I had to gain at least 15 pounds. Now 10 pounds means I’m up TWO pant sizes (thankfully, the super stretchiness of some of my skinny jeans has been forgiving but my dress pants and regular jeans sure wont forgive me).

While I begrudge going up a few pant sizes (and seeing 17- on the scale instead of 16- :( ), the worst part has been how out of control I’ve let my eating become again. For the last few months, I haven’t seemed to comprehend the word restraint. It’s like I’ve felt a need to prove why I spent about a decade weighing 240+. Like I’ve needed to prove my love of food by overconsumption. Mostly, I blame winter.

The season is undeniably beautiful (as long as there is snow on the ground), still, I loathe it. It all boils down to the fact that I hate being cold, cut off from sunlight, and surrounded by barren plant life. I was born in the middle of summer and that season is in my blood. I feel most alive when the world around me is blazing and in full bloom. I thrive on being able to augment my days with sun naps and evening strolls neither of which are going to happen during a Michigan winter.

My tolerance for cold diminishes more and more each year (and with every pound lost). I can stand it for about as long as it takes me to get from my apartment door down three flights of stairs to my car. Tragically, my poor old Cadillac’s heat barely works if it’s cooler than 35 outside so even my car rides have been freezing this winter. Therefore, if I wasn’t being paid to brave the cold and leave my apartment, I pretty much didn’t.

Months and months of being confined indoors makes me feel like a tiger I once saw at the Grand Rapids zoo. She kept restless pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in this torturously small enclosure. Every frustrated turn bespoke an obvious, furious need to break free. I’ve been as restless. Instead of pacing, I eat just about as incessantly.

Like I said, I’ve been coping badly.

Back in January, I was starting to really get in a panic about my eating. I was afraid I was on a slippery slope that would lead my right back to 240. Then two of my female coworkers and I lingered after work to talk about how much we all hate winter. I found out that they were having the same problem as me (well, similar at least). We’d all gained winter weight. My middle aged coworker had gained 25 pounds since Halloween. My petite, slim 19 year old coworker said she’d gained so much weight that her skinny jeans were cutting off the circulation in her legs. It felt good to know I’m not alone in my winter weight gain.

That conversation reminded me of something our culture is loath to admit: it’s natural to put on weight during winter time. The extra pounds help to keep us warm and the extra serotonin from carbs compensates for the little we’re getting from sunlight. With the poor heat in my car, I can’t say I’ve been too sad to have some extra insulation.

Even so, there is a fine line for me between normal and dysfunctional. I know that I’ve been leaning towards the dysfunctional. The more these cold months have dragged on, the worse it’s gotten.

Almost every winter I find myself in a similar place. Lent is usually the time that I re-connect with my body and with God (our relationship suffers as much in the winter as this blog has). It’s when I begin relearning restraint and get back into the habit of having a more active relationship with God as I prepare for Resurrection Sunday and spring. That didn’t happen this year. As you know. My focus was on adjusting to this new job and giving myself a professional makeover (more on that to come).

On Easter Sunday, I realized that I still need a Lenten season. Just because I missed Lent doesn’t mean I can’t have one. Starting April 1st, I began Dieting & Devotions. I’ve committed to do daily devotions (i.e. begin each day by reading from the Bible) and diet until my birthday, July 1st.

When I say diet, I mean that I’m trying to eat within the daily caloric range MyFitnessPal  gives me (a great free app, by the way, that I’m liking more than Weight Watchers) and exercise more regularly again. I know, that’s not exactly a “diet.” I don’t do well when I decide that I can’t eat something. Plus ,I know that the most effective way for me to lose weight is through something that is sustainable. My definition of Dieting is being more active and intentional eating with moderation as well as making healthier food choices.

So far, so good, but it has only been 3 days. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Taking a Chance with Online Dating

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love-seekers

All winter long dating has little to no appeal to me. The cold seems to seep into all of my cells draining me of passion and energy. About all I want to do is curl up in a ball, in my cozy bed, and sleep until the snow melts away for good. Of course, I can’t entirely do this but I still practically hibernate. Few people see much of me in the winter. I’m entirely unmotivated to leave my apartment unless I have to. I especially won’t bother braving the cold to go out with a guy that I may or may not like.

Once I smell spring in the air, this starts changing. My craving for a male sidekick sets in. I instinctively begin hunting for a quality guy to hang out with. (I love my female friends but guys are really the best when you want to get out and have fun). Though winter won’t quite give up out here in Michigan, we’ve had enough spring-y days that the hunter in me has awoken.

Problem is that all the men I’ve been meeting fall into one of four categories: too young, too old, undereducated or married. Even if it weren’t for these disqualifiers, I haven’t met a single guy around here who I enjoy enough to want us to meet up outside of work. (Admittedly, I’m pretty selective about who I hang out with, whether they’re male or female – if we don’t really click, I don’t bother letting it be an option to have a relationship outside of work, unless I’m really bored). All winter just feeling like I had options, even benign ones, was enough. Now, I want more.

I’ve made multiple attempts over the last two years to find different environments, besides work, where I can meet some quality guys around my age (I’ve tried out like five different young adult church groups and frequently hang out at this trendy new café that has pretty high traffic). Nothing has been successful. It’s just not in my nature to completely give up on the hunt. As Judy says in “White Christmas,” “You know how honesty needs a little plus, well sometimes fate needs a little push.” I’ve decided that it’s about time I gave fate a little push. This is why, despite many reservations, I’m giving online dating a chance.

Alright, the decision wasn’t entirely this well thought out. It was kind of impulsive.

You may remember that I told you a little bit about this dating site, HowAboutWe.com, last year. I saw an ad for it on facebook that I just had to click on because it fascinated me. It’s marketed as a dating site that’s more like a social network where you post date ideas like statuses and find potential people to go out with you. How cool is that? I come up with potential dates all the time. I miss having a go-to guy that I could con into taking me out. I fell in love with the concept.

I signed up for free so I could poke around the site. It was terribly disappointing. Most of the people didn’t take advantage of its awesomeness at all. They treated it like any other dating site. (Tons of the guys on there just post boring things like “Let’s just talk and see where it goes from there.” Psh. Lame! Not interested). At the time, I also was turned off by the idea of going out with strangers (spending the last year talking to hundreds to thousands of strangers every weekend has really diminished this hang up).  After satisfying my curiosity that day, I wrote off online dating.

I didn’t remember that my profile was still up until I recently started getting a number of emails from the site (I’m notorious for setting up online accounts that I never use but don’t bother to delete). For whatever reason, my profile began receiving a lot of attention. I got a string of messages throughout February letting me know that different men were “intrigued” by my date. Of course, that piqued my interest. I visited the site to check out these guy’s profiles but, annoyingly, I couldn’t see them without becoming a paid member. There was no way I was doing that! Still, after practically a year of silence, it felt like a nudge towards online dating.

After receiving yet another one of those emails, I set up a free account on the dating site Lucy uses. The next night, Heather convinced me to get on another dating site that she’s trying out.

I’ve had my profiles up for about two weeks now. I haven’t gone on any dates yet but I’ve messaged back and forth a little with a few men. I’m about ready to meet one and see if we get along as well in person as we do online.

I’m doing my best to keep an open mind but it’s hard. With an online format like this it’s too easy to go down the line and size these guys up quickly: Weirdo. Douche. Creep. Loser. Kid. Fitness Freak. Man’s Man. Etc. (All disqualifiers in my book). I’m doing my best not to just judge these men off of their profile pictures (though the pictures that people choose to put up can really say a lot about them). Men’s About Me sections and usernames play a big role in my assessment. I’m terribly inclined to immediately write off guys who say their primary interests are sports, exercise, or outdoorsy things (hiking, camping, fishing, hunting). I just can’t imagine having anything to talk about with these guys.

So far, the best thing about online dating is viewing people’s profiles. Some men’s pictures  scream douche bag so loudly it’s hard not to laugh. Plenty of Fish offers an extra level of amusement because each person has to have a headline for their profile. Some of my favorites so far are “Cougar? No Thank You.” “Add to Cart.” “Is eating a sandwich. Oh wait, wrong site…”  “I shower every day.” One of these days, I’m hoping to see a guy with the headline “Professional punner and proud of it.” I’d totally message that guy in a second.

Have you tried out online dating? What do you think of it? Do you think I’m judging these men’s profiles too harshly?

Let’s Catch Up!

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It’s been way too long since we really chatted! There are lots of questions I feel like I need to answer for you. Like, Why the heck have I only been posting like two blogs a month?! And whatever happened with my career hunt?! How it is that we’re over half way through Lent and I haven’t even written about it once?!  And, for those of you who also follow me on facebook, Why do I keep posting statuses about online dating?! It’s about time that I gave you some answers.

I tend to scapegoat a lot of things when I’m being uncommunicative: boredom, laziness, writer’s block, etc. Usually, the truth is that it comes down to one thing: I’m keeping something BIG from you (because I’m not ready to share it yet). Since that thing is typically eating up a lot of my time and energy, I just don’t have much leftover to share with you. That BIG thing through the last few months has been my developing career.

Back in January, I let you know that I was searching for a career job that would challenge me and get me out of my apartment more. I let some of my thrill at the hunt come out near the end of that month, after getting home from a good interview. Overall, I tried to shield you from experiencing the rollercoaster of my emotions.

Career hunting for me is a lot like crushing. One week I’m be totally convinced that some job is THE ONE. I come up with a bunch of reasons why we’re perfect for each other. I envision myself in the position and imagine our future together. Then, before I even hear back, I’m over it. I brush off rejections like I was completely complacent from the start. My close friends and family have a hard enough time dealing with all of these ups-and-downs. I thought it was best to spare you.

That hunt has now come to an end.

In the midst of looking elsewhere for a career, I was invited to interview for the position of Event Coordinator within the company that I have been doing demos. My supervisor, who I began filling in for in January when she left on a medical leave, had recommended me. Though I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay within this company, or industry, I couldn’t turn down the opportunity. I went to the interview.

Lightning didn’t exactly strike but it went undeniably well. During the interview, I began to realize how much I wanted this job over all of the opportunities in higher education that I’d been pursuing. That weekend, I also had the chance to coordinate a large event at my store. After that, I knew this was what I wanted. (You all may not know this but, back in college, I planned and ran many events as a student organization president. During my masters, I had an internship in programming and leadership. In other words, I have a lot of experience coordinating events and acting as a supervising. I forgot just how much I love pulling off a successful event until that weekend.)

During the weeks following that interview, as I waited to hear back, I felt like a love-sick teenager. I tried to continuing hunting, just encase I didn’t get it, but it was impossible to get my heart back into the game. Thankfully, I was offered the job around the middle of February. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops but I was asked to keep it quiet until an official announcement was made to my staff (which they finally did yesterday).

One of the appealing aspects of this job is that it’s just 30 hours a week. Leaving me time to continue my freelance writing (something I’m really not willing to entirely give up-though I haven’t been focusing much on it lately). Training for this new job, taking on new responsibilities, and being much too hard on myself for not already being absolutely perfect, has been pretty consuming for the last few weeks. On my time off, I’ve been pretty useless (during that first week of training I may or may not have watched all 4 seasons of BBC’s “Being Human” on Netflix). I’m beginning to feel more like I can breathe this week. While I’ve still got a lot going on, I’m planning to pencil in more time for us.

So there you have it. Finally, some answers for you! Now you know why I’ve been so quiet and what became of my career hunt. This is also why I haven’t commented on Lent. Lent is a season of contemplation. For me, this season is about doing more than thinking. That last question…I’ll save the answer for another day. It’s worth its own post. Until then…

A Support Group for Virgins, Part 2

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Discussion Time

It’s ironic that in our culture being a virgin is something of a disgrace. While many cultures around the world value purity, in our culture it comes with stigmas that few of us want attached to us. If you’re male, being a virgin practically means you haven’t entered manhood yet (since losing your virginity seems to be one of the last rites of passage we have left for men). You risk opening yourself up to others condescension and disrespect by letting it slip that you haven’t yet had sex. If you’re female, it means your naïve, repressed, or brainwashed. You open yourself up to being seen as an ideal instead of a person: the simple minded, untouched, libido-free, ultra-submissive woman of every chauvinistic man’s wet dreams and every feminist’s nightmares. No wonder most of us keep our status as virgins private.

Of course, the Christian community is more than accepting of virgins. In fact, we are practically their poster children. But, again, they idealize us to an extent that is as offensive as it is ridiculous. (The virginity obsessed “Purity Movement” has especially made us both a joke and an obscenity).

All of the fuss that’s made about virginity really isn’t justified. For most of us, it is a temporary state of being. One that the majority of us will happily move beyond eventually. Therefore, too much value or significance shouldn’t be placed on virginity itself (especially since it is a state of being that isn’t always as much in our control as it should be due to the reality of rape).

At the same time, there is no good justification for looking down upon virgins either. Sex is undeniably loaded with potential emotional and physical repercussions (while the risk of getting pregnant may be at an all-time low the risk of contracting a sexually transmitted disease is at an all-time high). Whether motivated by practical, personal or religious reasons, there is nothing foolish about being patient and choosy when it comes to physically uniting your body with someone else’s. Remaining a virgin until you’re in the right relationship, or married, is neither ignorant nor shameful.

An important distinction needs to made, for ourselves and our culture, between being a virgin and practicing chastity. While the one is a very changeable state of being, the other is a spiritual disciple that one decides to practice. Despite what you might be led to believe, chastity isn’t about the repression of one’s sexuality (though it is certainly grounded in the theory that there is much more to us than our sexual desires). The purpose is to abstain from sex for the sake of pursuing something else. The practice of chastity it is not confined to just people who have never had sex.

That last statement might be kind of radical or new for those of you whose understanding of chastity has been entirely shaped by the standard dictionary definition: “The state of being chaste; purity of body; freedom from unlawful sexual intercourse.” While that definition may suffice to capture its meaning in many novels and articles, it is not an adequate definition of the religious practice. Chastity is a spiritual discipline that anyone can practice. The purpose isn’t to keep yourself untouched, it is to grow spiritually. To view the world, and sex, through the lens of faith, and develop a closer relationship with God.

Viewing chastity as a spiritual discipline, among other spiritual disciplines like fasting and solitude, helps to normalize it in a healthy way. For starters, it reminds us that abstaining from sex is not meant to be seen as the only way nor most important way to have a deeper relationship with God. (In short, you don’t have to be a nun to be close to God). Also, by seeing the connection between chastity and fasting, it helps us to retain a healthy view of sex. You don’t abstain from food during a fast because it is necessarily dirty or perverse, you do it in order to become more aware of your hunger for God and to help you pursue Him more (as hunger pangs become a reminder to pray or read the Bible). Similarly, one doesn’t abstain from sex because it is necessarily dirty or perverse, but “in order to remember that God desires your person, your body, more than any man or woman ever will.” As Lauren F. Winner points out in her book Real Sex: The Naked Truth About Chastity (which I very much recommend).

I also like how calling it a spiritual discipline implies that it requires practice as much as self-discipline. You may not be perfect at it from the start. You may slip up a lot in the process. That doesn’t mean it isn’t worth committing to nor that the whole process, failures and all, won’t be beneficial. Personally, I’m terrible at fasting from any type of food. I’ve never managed to complete a Lenten fast without breaking it a few times along the way. Even so, participating in Lent has almost always been beneficial for me. While assuming failure isn’t a good idea, with any discipline, realizing that an imprudent decision or two don’t nullify your commitment is good to keep in mind.

Clarifying what chastity actually is helps to dispense with some of the stigmas attached to virgins. It dispels the idea that “Purity culture is rape culture” (a growingly popular feminist slogan) because this type of purity culture doesn’t support the idea that women’s bodies are solely for men’s pleasure. It reveals how much the Christian Purity Movement is not only detached from reality but blind to the reality of chastity itself. From their ignorance of its actual purpose and value to their idiotic understanding of how to practice it (as if “purity rings” and “purity pledges” are actually useful let alone beneficial).

Adequately understood, chastity isn’t a rejection of sex, it’s an affirmation of it. It just affirms a view of it that’s somewhat counter-culture. It’s also an affirmation of our sexual identity but it’s rooted in the belief that we are fully spiritual and fully sexual. Therefore, the two can’t be divorced without splintering ourselves. (As Rick McKinley says in his wonderful sermon series Love, Sex & God, which I also recommend). All of which grows out of a conviction that singleness serves a greater purpose than promiscuity. That our lives can be fulfilling and enriching even without sex.

Where Does This Blog Fit?

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I know that many of you are waiting for Part 2 of my Support Group for Virgins but, right now,  I need us to have a little “define the relationship” conversation.

Lately, writing for you has been…painfully hard. I can’t even tell you how many attempted posts (and unnecessary calories) I went through before I was able to bring that last one together for you.

The problem isn’t lack of inspiration. I’ve got lots of ideas bouncing around in my head. The trouble is that I’ve been having a hard time getting a firm enough hold on one to see it through. My friend Emily recommended that I sit down and let myself free write. What I ended up writing about was this blog’s identity, which is something I’ve been trying to figure out throughout the last year.

Most blogs are directed toward a specific subset of people: fashionistas, academics, Christians, foodies, etc. Mine is very intentionally more inclusive. Most have a niche market. Mine very purposefully does not (or it has a broad one). Like Garance Dore, I feel that the beauty of a blog is that it can be incredibly versatile. The popularity of her blog, which explodes the confines of your standard fashion blog, illustrates that this can be true. It gives me hope that there are many other people out there, like me, who dislike the restrictiveness/repetitiveness of niche blogging (both as a reader and blogger).

While my blog may not have a niche, it’s not aimless. Though I have often wondered whether it holds together, whether it makes sense as a unity, I believe that it has developed a specific identity. What this blog is is a conversation.

I write as if I were talking to you because, in my mind, I am. I imagine that we’re having a long, meandering conversation (though a somewhat one-sided one). The best conversations are usually those that end up covering a lot of ground. The ones you look back on with wonder, trying to figure out how you went from say chit chatting about taking the wrong train in Brooklyn to talking about humanism, different dating cultures, and your ever-evolving understanding of yourself. The type that you find yourself quoting all the time, to different people, as you repeat something that person said that you can’t get out of your mind, the story they told that you’re still laughing about, and the observation they made that was frighteningly accurate. My aim is for my blog to be much like this.

I incorporate levity, through anecdotes and narratives, to keep our conversation lively and break up some of the seriousness. I let my internal and external chaos direct its course, because that’s what determines the terrain of most good conversations. I very intentionally mix the religious and non-religious, even sometimes in one post, because they’re intertwined in life and in my best conversations. Being a Christian is an intrinsic part of me, it informs so much of who I am, but it’s not all that I am. My faith greatly shapes and influences me, but it’s not all that shapes and influences me. Not closeting my posts on faith-related subjects to a faith-related blog best reflects this dynamic identity/reality.

If you’ve read my About page, you know that I started this blog because I was hungry. What I was hungry for was conversation. I like to say that the quality of my conversations dictates the quality of my life. Of course, I’m exaggerating a little. But not much. I love exploring what it means to be human (both relationally and culturally) through talking to a wide range of people, with unique perspectives, backgrounds and beliefs about our passions and our lives. Stranded out in small town Michigan, living outside of academia, I felt like there were so few opportunities to have these types of conversations, upon which I thrive on. My hope was that this blog would become a way to satisfy this hunger, and it has, though not exactly how I expected.

I imagined then that my hunger would be satiated through your comments. While I continue to love when you actively participate, what I’ve found is that this blog is best at sparking conversations that extend outside of its self. A few of my readers and I have become friends. Through talking to people about this blog, I’ve been able to have more rewarding and challenging conversations with the many people that I meet. What makes me happiest is learning that, for many of you, my blog plays a role in your conversational life too. Knowing that gives me assurance that I’m not just having a conversation with myself, for my own benefit (which is very important to me).

In short, the purpose of this blog has become its identity. Conversation is not only what it aspires to, its the thread that binds all of these posts together.

Like all bloggers, I wrestle with the question of quality versus consistency. Sometimes I think it would be so nice if we could chat a little every day. But I ultimately think that would be rather exhausting for both of us. Not only would it be challenging for me to keep up the quality of my posts, I know that many of you are too busy for that. Therefore, I’m trying to achieve a nice compromise between the two. I feel like I’m getting closer to it.

Clarifying this for myself, and for you, helped to break through my writer’s block. Maybe you had already pieced this together, or don’t have as strong of a need to understand what’s going on here, but I think it’s valuable to share this. Identity matters to each of us. We all desire to know who we are and what we’re a part of. To me, there is nothing more worthwhile than being involved in an on-going, engaging conversation that covers a broad range of topics and experiences.

Don’t worry, we’ll resume our frank discussion of chastity soon.

 

A Support Group for Virgins, Part 1

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Story Time

A friend and I recently talked about how virgins, especially those of us out of our teens and getting further past our early 20s, sort of need a support group. Whether you’re practicing chastity for religious reasons or waiting for your first time to be in a committed relationship with someone you love, you’re part of a rather uncomfortable minority. It’s not particularly cool and certainly not easy to be a virgin in this culture.

I had a friend in NYC tell me that being a virgin was a problem that I needed to fix. She gave me a book about how women should liberate themselves and take control of their dating lives by learning to ‘have sex like men.’ (I can’t say I wasn’t a little tempted, though his arguments really weren’t that compelling). It certainly felt like a big obstacle to dating in that city, where meeting someone at a bar and going home with them tends to be the standard definition of dating.

Dating in Michigan is less daunting as a virgin but I still know a number of women here who’ve had guys break up with them when they stated that they were virgins and either waiting until marriage or a commitment to have sex. It’s pretty intimidating to live with the knowledge that the average 16 year old has more sexual experience than I do.

Awkward as it can be to be a virgin, the true challenge is chastity. In that, our struggle is mostly with ourselves. I can’t tell you how many times one of my good friends has called me up to say that she’s ready to just throw in the towel and pick up a guy at a bar. Another friend told me that she said to her ex-boyfriend a few times, in frustration and impatience, “Once I get my merit badge for waiting until I’m 25, I’m done with this!” I’ve had many similar moments myself. There have been numerous times when good friends have said to me, “Lindsey, you don’t get to give yourself a get-out-of-jail free card when you feel like it. “ (Something I need to hear most around my birthday when my impatience is hitting its peak and I’m feeling entitled to a reward for another year of good behavior).

If we want to have sex too, why wait? I think that’s a question that all of us practicing chastity/abstinence come back to over and over again. The refrain my friends and I repeat the most is “If I wasn’t a Christian, there’s no way I’d be doing this!” (Though I do have one friend for whom this isn’t a factor at all since she’s not religious). At least for me, that’s not all that’s stopping me from having a casual one night stand or sleeping with a boyfriend.

Growing up in evangelical Christian churches, I’m sure I heard all the trite messages you see in the media. I can’t say that I listened to any of them. They were about as memorable and affective as Christian arguments against swearing (which obviously never sunk in since the f-word plays a prominent role in my vocabulary). I had a friend or two who took purity pledges and had purity rings. I never made an official commitment and would never wear one of those rings.

The Christian women in my life, who honestly shared their stories with me, have had a stronger influence on me than any message I heard in church. Starting at a young age, my mom began gradually having frank conversations with my sisters and I about sex. By high school, we were well aware that she and my dad had both been virgins when they got married. They enjoyed the pleasure and intimacy of learning the art of sex together. Like any parent, she wanted this for her girls as well. While she shared her positive experience, it was contrasted by other married Christian women we knew who expressed their regret for having sex before marriage. They shared ways in which they felt it had a negative impact on their marriages. Like the unnecessary wounds they and their spouses could give each other, when angry, by bringing up past lovers. Or how they found themselves at times comparing their husbands’ performance to past partners and bemoaning having married a man that wasn’t their best lover.  Etc. My mom often emphasized that marriage is hard enough without bringing other people into your bed with you.

As someone who responds to the wisdom imparted through stories, these women’s experiences played a large role in shaping my understanding of the value of waiting to have sex with your spouse. Though their power has waned through the years as I’ve heard more women’s stories, and as I’ve accepted that my husband (if I have one) most likely won’t be a virgin, they continue to stay with me.

Also, growing up immersed in the Bible and in some very healthy Christian communities shaped my understanding of sex in a particular way. I grew to understand sex to be not only a beautiful expression of love and passion but also a binding activity. A physical expression of the entangling of two people’s emotions and lives. As an act that carries a great weight of responsibility towards the other: responsibility for the potential consequence (such as a baby) and the emotional responsibility of carrying the burden of someone else’s love (which excludes the option to play ignorant to the fact that someone might become deeply attached to you as a result of having sex). With such a dynamic and weighty definition of sex, I am unable to reduce it to simple physical gratification (though, of course, I think that’s an important part of it).

All of this has played a role in my decision to practice chastity but I also have more personal motivations.

After reading my post about the sense of control I felt that my extra weight used to give me, one of my readers aptly pieced together that I was molested as a child. I was. While being molested jump started my sex drive (I honestly can’t remember a time when my body didn’t crave sex), it also resulted in a fierce possessiveness of my body. For over a decade, I was unwilling to let any man have any privilege with my body, beyond maybe a hug. It’s only been in the last few years that I’ve begun to dismantle some of those boundaries. Still, it is very important to me to affirm my body’s sanctity and to place a justifiably high cost upon enjoying and sharing in it.

Having told you that I was molested, I think it is important to make it clear that I have not chosen to practice chastity because I’m afraid of men or sex. I am very comfortable with men, as long as they do not set off my finely tuned creep-dar. Having dry sex* on a dance floor with a stranger, around my 21st birthday, confirmed for me that I’m a deeply sensual person at ease with my body and someone else’s (as long as I sense he’s quality and he plays by my rules). Like many women similar to myself, having casual sex would come very naturally to me as a result of my past. In fact, casual sex is more tempting to me than intimate sex because it is much less emotionally threatening. To date, the only men I’ve let myself be physically intimate with were strangers whose names I was hardly interested in learning (I don’t state that proudly but I do think I deserve a little pat on the back for keeping the number down to three, especially when you remember that I lived in NYC for two years, and for not letting any instance get too out of hand).

The boundaries I have set have not only been to reclaim my body for myself and prevent a man from “taking advantage of me.” They are there to prevent me from crossing a line I know I shouldn’t.

As much as I’m sure I would enjoy casual sex, I respect myself too much to cross that line. When I state that, I don’t mean that I respect myself too much to be perceived as a “slut.” Frankly, I’d be amused by being a source of gossip. What I mean is that I respect myself too much to allow myself to divorce my body from my emotions. To let myself participate in a game that’s rules don’t permit me to fall in love with the man I’m sleeping with or expect him to be there the next morning, and every morning after. I respect myself too much to pretend that my physical desire for sex is more important than my deeper desire to belong to someone physically and emotionally, and have him belong to me back. While having sex with someone I love will be more emotionally threatening than having sex with a stranger, it will be infinitely more meaningful. While limiting myself to one man that I’m married to can sound confining, it will also be more freeing because I won’t have to restrain my desire to love him with my whole being.

When I’m in a committed relationship with a man I want to have sex with, I know it will get harder to remain chaste. I know that, if I trust him, I’ll be seriously trying to convince myself out of waiting until my wedding night. But I also know that I’m not really capable of giving both my body and heart away lightly. And I tend to think that all relationships with men come with an expiration date. It’ll most likely take a covenantal ceremony to convince me a man intends to stick with me for the long haul. That’ll probably help.

Now I’d love to open the floor to other virgins out there, what’s your story? Why are you waiting?

Ending Notes:

*I wasn’t using dry sex as a euphuism for dirty dancing. That’s how it started but we progressed much further. I know, I know, classy Lindsey. I’m the first to admit, it wasn’t one of my finest moments.

Scratches in the Surface: Finding Beauty in Imperfection

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A while back, when I was wandering through Garance’s archives looking for some inspiration, I found this quote from Emanuel Ungaro that she quoted from a 1973 issue of Vogue:

“I like women who are not sure of themselves. I like the moment when a woman thinks she is not good enough, pretty enough. It’s wonderful. It’s like I’ve scratched the surface and discovered something…”

I felt immediately that I needed to write on this for you. But I couldn’t articulate then why. I couldn’t even put words to why I like it so much.

Scribbling in my journal last night, I became very aware of how much pressure I’ve put on myself, unconsciously, to always be sure of myself. To always think I’m good enough. Pretty enough. Smart enough. Capable enough. Desirable enough. Likeable enough. To have the unwavering, unbreakable confidence and self-assurance of Dagny Taggart.

Not that I want to have too high an estimate of myself. My aim is simply to have a crystal clear image of myself–flaws and faults included–that is perfectly, and as entirely as possible, accurate. That allows me complete self-assurance. The type of self-image that frees you from the need for any validation or the risk of being brought down by someone else’s disregard. (We’ve covered that I was a philosophy major right? So I think in terms of ideals).

In short, I’d like to be impervious with no potential for any scratches or breaks in my surface.

The last few years have really shattered my belief that I could ever be so perfectly cold and unmovable. Still, I find myself judging myself by this standard. I feel like there is something wrong with me when I’m hurt after someone has been hurtful. Like I’m weak if I admit that I have limits to what I can carry, put up with and excuse. Like I’m terribly insecure if I admit that my confidence is not complete.

What my friends have taught me throughout these years is that these aren’t flaws. I get hurt because I’m human. In fact, if I respond to it appropriately, that pain can help me prevent further harm. I have limits because there are things that I, in fact, shouldn’t carry, put up with or excuse. My confidence is not complete because I was made to be completed in community. My desire for appropriate validation, my need to see myself accurately reflected back in the eyes of my friends, is what helps to draw me into relationships. Just like everyone else.

I think this moment, when a woman is unsure of herself, is so beautiful to Ungaro because it is so true. It’s the moment when his Muse’s humanity, with all of its inherit vulnerability, becomes apparent. It is the moment when she can’t be reduced to an object or an ideal instead she’s a person with all of the complicated depths that entails.

The truth of this is incredibly freeing.

Crushing Like a Teenager

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I’ve been meaning to write a post for you that’s as serious as the last. There are a number of different topics that I’ve been mentally composing my thoughts on. None have materialized because I’ve been a little too absorbed in my latest crush. It’s a job crush.

Last Wednesday, just before heading off to the Detroit Auto Show, I had a phone interview for a job in higher education that went remarkably well. Before that conversation, my feelings about the position had been lukewarm. The more I learned about the details of the job and the university I’d be working for, the more enamored I became. My interviewer seemed to be similarly enamored with my potential for the position. She very eagerly invited me in for a face-to-face interview this Monday.

I spent the time leading up to my second interview like a teenager in the throws of an intense crush. Thursday, when I had a nice chunk of time that I’d intended to use to write you, I played dress up instead. I planned out outfits I could wear to work and dreamed up how I’d like my style to evolve. Of course, I also picked out the outfit for my face-to-face. I kept losing time daydreaming about this job.

I know that you aren’t supposes to get this attached to a prospective job. There is such a high potential of rejection at this point that you should curb your enthusiasm. That’s not especially easy for me with any job (unless I don’t really want the position).

After an equally positive face-to-face interview yesterday, I’m absolutely radiating with anticipation. It’ll be another week or so until I know one way or the other. While I left the campus even more excited than I’d arrived, I also left inspired and encouraged. Much like a positive dating experience, it left me feeling desirable and confident I have a lot to offer. That alone is worth all of the emotional energy I’ve been burning, even if I don’t happen to get this particular position.

I am going to try harder to focus my energy back towards you and share more thoughtful musings soon.