Welcome Back to the Game!

Nowhere is interacting with the opposite sex more confusing than in Christian circles, where some people date, a shrinking number forego dating in favor of "courting" and some have declared themselves temporary monks.

--Jessica Inman, "I'd Follow the Rules if I Knew What They Were: Dating in an Ever-Changing World"

I Am a Gutted Chicken
When I originally blogged about this whole Shy Guy episode last week, I did so on a whim, thinking it might be fun to include you on the somewhat confusing inner workings of my mind. And it was fun; I really enjoyed reading your thoughts about what I should do concerning the awkward situation in which I found myself.

But after reading through all your comments and discovering some of you had very strong opinions, the whole thing began to take on weightier proportions. It occurred to me that since I had brought up my love life (or rather, lack thereof), I now had a moral obligation to live out in front of you my convictions of what I believe a Christ-honoring relationship looks like. One of the bedrocks of my beliefs (learned the hard way through much trial and error) is that guys should be the initiators and women the responders. You are free to disagree with that, of course, and I will still like you if you do, but that’s just what I think.

However, forgetting that just because the majority rules doesn’t mean the majority’s right, I gave my word that I would do what the majority of you said do. And I am a woman of my word, so I was determined to call him. And boy, you guys gave some really persuasive arguments as to why I should! Deep down, I was glad you did because I really did want to give this guy a chance. I probably would have spent the rest of my life – or at least the rest of my week – wondering what it would have been like if I had and regretting that I hadn’t.

But when the moment of truth finally came, I just couldn’t do it. Call me a gutted chicken, but the minute I placed my hand on the receiver, a thought floated into my head: Relationships that don’t start well rarely end well. And I wondered if I were really giving this whole thing – whatever it is -- the best start possible. I wasn’t sure.

My Mother Is an Eager Beaver
So, I took the only other option at my disposal – to respond without initiating. I had my mother call him instead, and she was a little too eager to do so.

I sat there while she left the message on his voicemail, giving him my apartment number, my cell number and my work number.

“You forgot to give him my e-mail address, my fax number, my MawMaw’s number and Mackie’s baby-sitter’s number,” I told her after she hung up.

She detected the sarcasm in that statement but didn’t bite. “Should I call him back?”

“Mother, there’s such a thing as being too accessible, you know! One number would have sufficed!”

When someone wrote the rules to the game of dating, he forgot to give them to my mother. In her eagerness to get me married off, she breaks them on my behalf quite often.

Back to Square One
Since my mother had given the poor guy my cell number, I figured I should probably locate it and charge it, but I wasn’t too worried. The guy certainly had my other numbers he could call if he were so interested.

But I did finally locate it and plugged it in to charge and sure enough. There’s a message from him on my voicemail: He left his name and number in case I'd like to call him back.

Argh!

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!