You’d really think I’d know better than to blog at 1am.

Confession time.

I’m 28 years old.  I turn 29 in April.

I’ve never been in a serious relationship.  I’ve never been in a relationship period.

I’ve been on three dates in my entire life–the first was a girls-choice dance, the second was a pity date. (Sis, I know what you’re going to say, and it was a pity date.  He only asked me after he heard me say I didn’t have a date to the prom, and the group I went with was all the popular guys with all the unpopular girls.  It was a pity date).  The third was a blind date set up by a roommate.

I’ve never been kissed.

Shocking, right?  You’d think the shy, fat, depressed girl would be beating the guys off with a stick.

The thing is, men and relationships just haven’t been a priority in my life until lately, and I’m painfully aware that I’m about 15 years behind the game.  In high school, I was more concerned with trying not to kill myself, and in college, well, I just didn’t care.

The desire to be in a relationship has come about largely since I lost my job, which freaks me out a little bit.  Yes, a boyfriend or a husband would be nice, but a way to keep a roof over my head and food in the fridge is essential.

I’ve had crushes on guys in the past, but it’s mostly been the “oh he’s cute, I wish he’d come and talk to me” type of thing, followed by a feeling of slight disappointment when I learned he was dating/engaged to someone else.  I’d then forget about whats-his-name and get on with my life (or lack thereof.)

A few months ago, I realized that I was talking about a particular crush a lot, and the more I examined my feelings for him, the more I realized that it might be more than a crush, I might actually be in love with him.  I really didn’t know–again, 13-15 years behind the game here, and falling in love is something I have absolutely no experience in.

I realized, yesterday, that this guy probably doesn’t have the same feelings for me as I do for him, and I’m heartbroken.  I think.  At the same time, I’m feeling like a silly teenage girl–and I wasn’t a silly teenage girl even when I was a silly teenage girl.

I keep trying to convince myself that if it happens for me, great, but if it doesn’t, well, that’s okay too.  I can still be a good person, a good daughter, sister, aunt and friend.  I look at women like Sherri Dew, Mary Ellen Edmunds,  and Barbara Thompson and remind myself that even though the church puts such a high priority on family and motherhood, a woman can still accomplish great things while remaining single–and all of the priesthood general authorities, all of the men, are either married or widowed.

It doesn’t make it any easier.

Advertisements

Tags: , , , ,

%d bloggers like this: