[Relationships] Three things that aren’t the end of the world.

Relationships. are. a. mess.

They’re a mess because they can be fun and hard and fulfilling and devastating and a privilege and torture, depending. They’re a mess because they can turn us into the best or worst versions of ourselves. (Maybe we are a mess?) They can make a day, a month, a year — or break it. They can inspire us to shout “I LOVE MY LIFE!” or to pout like whatever has happened in them is the end of the world.

But is it really?

Probably not, and particularly not when what has happened is as follows:

1. You were moody, boring, tired, or having a bad hair day the last time you talked to or saw him or her. If he or she is really marriage material and thinks you are, too, he or she will get over it. #justsayin.

2. He or she doesn’t intuitively meet your expectations. I’ve blogged before about the time a guy I dated ended a phone call with me by saying “I’ll call ya later.” He never did. And it irked me. He handed me an expectation that he didn’t fulfill. I was hesitant at first the next day to bring up how bothered by it I was because I worried I would come across as needy. But there’s a difference between being needy and communicating a need. It is not the end of the world if the guy or girl you date (or marry!) doesn’t intuitively meet your expectations because the guys and girls you date (or marry!) aren’t mind readers. If you expect somebody to meet all your expectations but you are unwilling to express your expectations, your relationship is, how shall we say… doomed. Dealing with unmet expectations is part of discerning a marriage with someone. It’s part of deciding whether there are some expectations somebody ought to meet intuitively. An unmet expectation is an opportunity to communicate with the person you date (and to learn how good he or she is at listening).

3. He or she’s just not that into you. Unrequited interest is a bummer, but it isn’t the end of the world. It isn’t the end of the world because “if our God is for us, then who could ever stop us?” — if you’re supposed to end up with somebody, you will, regardless of whether the interest is initially mutual. If you don’t end up with somebody you like, it isn’t the end of the world, either. A wise friend of mine reminded me once: if you think he or she is awesome (and he or she turns out to be some guy or girl you’re not even gonna marry), your actual future spouse will be even more awesome. #Legit.

What else isn’t the end of the world?

Why I write what I write.

I sit tonight at a probably 10′ long table alone, along a wall in Starbucks, because when I got here, it was the only available table close to an outlet. I haven’t plugged my computer in yet, distracted so far by the patrons to my right — a stepmother and adult stepdaughters, who sip seasonal beverages and discuss the family’s patriarch.

Who they suspect is involved in infidelity.

Who has been unfaithful before.

Who isn’t happy.

“I can’t say I’m in it for the long haul,” stepmother warned. Stepdaughters understood. I understand, too.

This — a real life representation of relationships at nearly their worst (It could be worse.) — hurts my heart. And my soul. And my head.

This is why I write what I write: Not solely because marriages disintegrate, but because marriages still start that are going to disintegrate. Because marriages that are going to disintegrate don’t actually have to start. I write what I write because “marriage is the new ‘going steady'” and isn’t designed to be. I write what I write because love is far greater than our culture says it is, and somebody has to say it.

When I write it is with the hope and prayer that readers who are married receive whatever they need to start to rebuild or reinforce a marriage’s foundation; with the hope and prayer that readers who are single and mingling receive what they need to discern when to stop or start a relationship; with the hope and prayer that readers who discern marriage don’t do it if disintegration is likely, or an option; with the hope and prayer that readers who are single for good will know it doesn’t mean life for them is loveless.

And your prayers while I write are appreciated.

Thoughts on dating (a surprise post!).

I announced recently that I will return to blogging on Dec. 30. Surprise! I miss blogging, so I’m taking advantage of a lunch break to jot some thoughts I want to share while they are fresh (incomplete though they may be):

While I work lately on a chapter that covers what life is like when you’re single, I have observed in myself and others, past and present, how content we are to start or end relationships based on sensual experiences. I have always written about this, but there is more to it than I thought. When we understand that relationships aren’t supposed to start (or end!) based solely on a sensual reactions to interactions with a person, we need not solely say “there has to be more” but we need to know what more there could be. First we have to like a person for more reasons than “I enjoy how I feel when I have his or her attention.” Then we have to have bad days with people we like and we have to be able to decide on bad days that this pursuit is good.

The magnitude of this is kind of intense. In the guest post on the blog today, John Janaro wrote we ought to marry people who are willing to suffer with us and with whom we’d be willing to suffer. This is brilliant and horrifying because I’m pretty sure people in our culture are far more likely to marry somebody because getting to know him or her involved less suffering than getting to know other people did.

I think most of us have half of this down: we are willing to suffer in long-term relationships with people whose red flags we continue to deny, or we start relationships for good reasons but quit when days are bad or boring.

Having a handle on both starting and staying because we should is probably the hardest part of dating in our culture.

I’m not sure if this is a date.

Have you ever been on an “I’m not sure if this is a” date?

We probably all are more sure than we say we are, but deny that we’re sure so if we discover that one of us isn’t getting what we want, it doesn’t hurt. It’s one of life’s little dramas. This is how it plays out on a Friday night:

You show up at Starbucks first, slip inside, and slink into a big, black velvet chair in a corner. You pretend to read (who can read at a time like this?). You avoid eye contact with the door. And you think.

Do I buy my drink? Do I wait to let him pay? Does he want to pay? Is this a date? If only he’d been explicit.

“Can I take you out on Friday?” instead of “Want to grab coffee on Friday?” Is that so hard?

He shows up. You smile. He’s nervous. So it is a date. You walk to the counter together. You order tea. He asks for coffee.

“Are you together or separate?”

He looks at you. Brother, this ball was made for your court. But he has assumed the decision is yours. Shoot! You panic.

“Separate!” you say. Did you have another, more viable option? If you’d said together, he’d think you think you’re on a date. And that’s the last thing you want him to think you’re thinking if you don’t know whether he thinks it, too.

You both pull out your wallets. It’s not a date. He smiles. Did he smile because he’s relieved? Is he offended and the smile was fake? You assume he’s happy to be out with a friend.

You assume.

Don’t we all? And not just during maybe-dates. We do it at work and at church and at school and in grocery stores and at gyms. We do it on the road and at parties, in marriages, in families, and among friends.

But “assumptions are the termites of relationships.” (Henry Winkler)

Do you wish we could be bolder? Do you think we should?

Because if it were socially acceptable to go up to a guy or girl with whom we’d like to spend more time and say, “I like you. Can we explore that?” we’d do it. If we didn’t fear how it feels to be rejected, somebody might be more inclined to say “I’d like to take you out to dinner!” instead of “Let’s hang out!” If social norms didn’t make it so boldness freaks us out, we’d be bold. We’d be honest, with others and with ourselves.

Instead, we are too timid to be bold. We assume and we act on our assumptions. We do, therefore, what presents the smallest risk.

Are we too timid to be bold because we’re avoiding the sting we’ll feel if boldness backfires? Or does that sort of thing only sting so much because we’ve been too timid for too long?

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A version of this post originally appeared on July 22, 2010.

[Q&A – Dating] How soon do you tell somebody you’re saving sex for marriage?

The Q: “With our society as it is today and everyone expecting sex outside of marriage, how (or how soon) do you let a guy you’ve started seeing know of your chastity and let him know he won’t be getting pre-marital sex from you? Is it something up front? Do you therefore seek out guys that feel the same?” -Jason

The A(‘s): The short answer to the first of Jason’s questions is IMMEDIATELY. Here’s the long one:

How I tell a guy I’m chaste has varied. Google usually beats me to it. But when a guy hasn’t Googled me, I can work it in when he asks about what I write. How I disclose chastity, however, has more flexibility than when I do it.

I am, in fact, a proponent of disclosing chastity up front. I’m for it on the first date or earlier. I’m for this because if a guy can’t handle that I bring up sex so soon, he probably can’t handle dating me. I’m also for this because if one (or both) of us is surprised or disappointed by what the other says about sex, I’d rather it be before we’re so involved we try to make work what inevitably won’t. It’s also a good idea to talk chastity at the start because what a potential mate does with what you divulge during that conversation is important. If he or she resists talking about chastity, he or she probably won’t practice it. If somebody lists incentives of sex before marriage, he or she will list ’em again and again and again, until you break down or break up. If he or she agrees to grin and bear it, you get a version of what you want: to practice chastity. But he or she doesn’t bring to a relationship what a person does who practices chastity, too.

In answer to Jason’s second question, I absolutely seek out guys who share my sentiments. To meet guys who don’t and try to change them isn’t fair, for me or for them. It isn’t my job to turn a guy into one who’d make a good husband, and it’s unreasonable to expect him to forsake his beliefs for mine.

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Q&A is an occasional feature. If you have a Q, I can come up with an A (and if I don’t have an A, I’ll find somebody who does). To submit a question, click here. No topic is taboo (although I can’t promise I will answer every question).

Click here to read all the posts in this series.