The Seeking Daddy Project Day 50: Unglued, Part the First

"You have to hear this one Patton Oswalt bit," Aaron* said, grinning excitedly from across our cubicle. "It's hilarious!  He's talking about a girl he slept with and going to get the morning after pill..."

Aaron and I have shared cube space almost the entirety of his seven months at our company.  In that time, we've become fast friends, bonding over our love of standup comedy and just generally ridiculing the ridiculous.  He's a standup guy (pun intended): ambitious, witty, enthusiastic, encouraging, deep-voiced and football-player-muscled.  All in all, a classic hero.  He even rescued me during Raleigh's horrendous Snowmaggedon a few months earlier by driving me home in his huge SUV. I owe him several home-cooked meals at this point.

"I was thinking about it last night; you have to listen to it!" he continued. I raised my eyebrows.  He was already giggling.

"No, no, seriously!  I know it sounds bad, but it's so funny. He's telling this story, right, and then this guy in the crowd heckles him, and he just GOES OFF on him.  Oh my god, it's amazing.  He just YELLS at him for like ten straight minutes.  He's like, 'YOU DOUCHENOZZLE!'...wait, I can't do it, I'm gonna ruin it.  You just have to hear it...oh my god..."

He put his head down on the desk, shoulders shaking. His mirth was contagious; I couldn't help but grin too. 

A few hours later, we were headed to the Durham Bulls Ballpark.  Our company had paid for us all to go to a game as a team-building exercise, providing food and a half day to sit in the sun.  Since we live close to each other and have to drive the same way going home, Aaron and I carpooled in my Focus.  I plugged my iPhone in and turned to Patton Oswalt station on Pandora, and wouldn't you know it, right as we approached the exit, the very bit he was talking about came on.  He's right - it's hilarious.  Soon we were both helpless with laughter, and the traffic jam we got stuck in coming off the exit didn't seem nearly as bad.

The ballpark was packed yesterday, almost unbelievably so.  We spent an hour circling the area around it, trying in vain to get into several parking decks only to be told they were full up as we approached in a long line of equally frustrated drivers.  At long last, we found a parking deck four blocks away from the ballpark with some open spaces.

Now, here's the thing: I'm 4'10". My shoe closet is full of 4-inch heels. 

I've run down Broadway in stiletto mary-janes. I've clipped along Oxford Street in heeled boots. But yesterday, as I was hiking the four blocks from the parking deck toward the ballpark with Aaron, the heel on my 4" cork wedge sandal ripped in half.

We made it there, but unbeknownst to me, the front part of my shoe was hanging on by a thread - literally.  Many flights of stairs, bleachers, and a long saunter (well, toddle, on my part) around the arena looking at souvenirs didn't help.  By the end of the afternoon, I collapsed at a nearby picnic table with my coworkers/girlfriends, my left sandal holding itself together for dear life.

And that was only the beginning.

*Not his real name.  It rhymes, though.

The Seeking Daddy Project Day 49: The adult thing to do.

On Easter Sunday afternoon, I was driving behind my best friend's car towards her apartment, on our way to Easter brunch with her family.

"I've been thinking about what you said yesterday," I said haltingly to Tate on the phone. "...and...I just...I can't give you what you want."

He sighed. "I don't think I can give you what you want, either."

I blinked back tears and choked out, "So...what does that mean...?"

We were both quiet for a moment.

"It's the adult thing to do," he said.

Soon after pulling into my best friend's apartment complex, I was single again.

Even though our breakup was mutual - dare I say amicable - and something I think we both knew was coming, it still stings a bit. Though Tate and I remain close friends and speak often, it's still sad. It's possibly the most mature parting-of-the-ways I've experienced.

And yet, I feel a bit like the wind has been let out of my sails.

I never thought I would still be single at 31. All my life, I've dreamed of having a partner - in ministry, in family, in life. Perhaps it's a little girl's fantasy, perhaps it's a desire shoved on me by the patriarchy, perhaps it's just something I long for, but it's always been there. I know I'm not "old," and I know there's still plenty of time to date, get married, and (possibly) have children.

I also know I can be more than content on my own. I'm comfortable going out alone - I went to a concert and two restaurants by myself just this week. I have all the affection and cuddles I could hope for in my precious Lottie. God has blessed me with a busy life that is full and rewarding whether or not I have a man in it at any given time.

Even still, I can't help but daydream.

It's not the every-dayness that bothers me, really; it's the big picture. The goals, the dreams, the things to work towards.  I've always thought I'd be making these goals and planning these dreams with my partner, but as the years continue to turn, I can't count on that. Should I begin to plan that it'll be just me? Should I begin working towards my own individual goals 10, 20, 30 years from now? I know well enough how quickly time passes. There's so much I want to do - for God and for others. I want to go back to England, write books, take seminary classes, be a poodle foster mom.  Some or all of those may or may not be possible with a family, I'm well aware. Should I just accept now that I'll be doing all of that on my own?

It's a hard pill to swallow. I've been turning it over and over between my fingers for awhile now, gulping.

In the meantime, I aim to continue to get back to being close with my Daddy, my Creator, my Lord...because in His welcoming arms I can find all the love, comfort, and companionship I know I will ever need.

It was the adult thing to do.

The Seeking Daddy Project Day 48: It's May!

Happy May Day, everyone!

In honor of today, I present the wonderful song from Camelot that every year I always sing to friends, coworkers, and (mostly) Lottie:

I apologize for my silence in the last few weeks.  A lot has been happening, which I'll probably write about here tomorrow. Suffice it to say, my silence hasn't been laziness or apathy about my closeness with God.

For today, though, let's enjoy the fact that it's spring! May is my favorite month, and hopefully this year will be no different.