Ever have one of those moments when something so casual and everyday smacks you upside the head with such plain english, it’s laughable?
Maybe I’m not making myself 100% clear.
Sometimes, all it takes is an outside perspective — or, a frank remark by a highly intelligent Wall Street #girlboss lawyer — to really make you see a situation in a new light.
And well, that just happened to me.
Tonight, I was talking with a wise older woman ((not my mom)) about my “staycation” last weekend. I told her how my mom and sister-in-law came to visit, and how we had a great time. We visited the Top of the Rock, ate great food, saw Aladdin on Broadway. I ended it by saying how much I missed my family back in Ohio.
“Well, do you see yourself staying here long term?”
“Oh no!” I replied without even skipping a beat. “I want to raise a family back in Ohio…I just need to meet a man first!” (#selfdepricator)
And without even blinking, this #girlboss woman goes, “Well don’t find one here! Good luck trying to get a New York guy to move to Ohio!”
I chuckled…uncomfortably. “Yeah…”
“You’ve gotta find a guy in Ohio. And you’d better hurry before all the good ones are taken!”
Walking home, I kept replaying that conversation over and over in my head.
Was I really that dumb? How had I not thought of that before?? Of course, if I meet a guy in NYC, he’s not going to want to leave NYC. He’ll have his job and his life here. He’s not going to want to move to Ohio.
Oy vey. Am I dense or what?
Over the next few hours, I tried to put it out of my mind. Think about something else: There’s a young singles meet up at church tomorrow…debating going to that. That’s a step in the right direction, right??
Checked out the guest list of a party I’m attending on Saturday night to scope out any potential hunks….
But my mind kept going back to the question…If my end goal is to wind up in Ohio with a family and a lap dog near my family, then why the hell am I looking in New York?
Ugh. I hope you can hear my exasperated groan through the screen.
Well, I have a confession. Back over Thanksgiving when I was at home…I did a little…research. I went on Bumble. Not to get a date, but to just see what was out there. Or rather, see who was out there. Bumble is a dating app that is location based and so wherever you+your phone are, the app will show you people in that same geographical area.
Swiping Scrolling the app, I literally knew so. many. guys. Literally SO MANY were from my high school.
The town — or rather, township — I am from is very…incestuous. Not in an inbreeding sort of way….no Hapsburgs here…
Sorry, history joke…
But people just don’t leave. Maybe they go away to college, but most people end up right back there, going to their alma mater’s Friday Night Football Games every week.
And everybody knows evvvvvvverybodys’ business.
It’s no secret that home is a very bittersweet place for me.
I’m going to be pretty blunt here: I was a pretty beloved child growing up in my community. I came from a pretty respected family, my brothers were the high school quarterback and point guard, my parents were deeply engaged leaders at our church, and I had been doing professional theater/film around the city since age five. So you can imagine, when I came down with severe anorexia in my last two years of high school and wasted away to 78 pounds, my “fall from grace” was, well….highly visible.
So ever since I “got well,” home has always been…difficult to return to, to say the least. There’s a shadow of that former life that follows me around. Even to this day, nearly 10 years since the fact, I still will get well-meaning-yet-slightly-out-of-touch women from church who come up to me and say, “Oh, sweetie, you look so healthy now.”
I’ve even had a *former* doctor boisterously and densely joke, “Remember when you didn’t eat?!”
So it’s hard to go back.
So thinking about dating someone from my hometown…it’s complicated. And honestly, anxiety-inducing.
Thinking, he’ll talk to someone and hear a horror story about my past…
…You’re dating Caralyn? Dude…not a good idea. She’s a head case. Remember in high school? The girl almost died. Don’t get tangled up with that freak show. There’s something wrong with her.
Whenever I’m back in my hometown, I feel as though I have a big scarlet letter on my chest.
And I’m going to be honest, thinking about this made me really sad. I fought back tears the entire night. I watched Gilmore Girls, and cried, thinking that I could never be Rory Gilmore, returning to Stars Hollow to live by her mom and have that story book existence.
But back to the topic at hand.
Is looking for my future husband in NYC what I’m supposed to be doing?
I went to bed thinking about that with a pit in my stomach, and I woke up with a bit more clarity.
I don’t think “looking for” or “seeking out” my future husband is the answer here.
I should be “seeking” the Lord.
Not a man. The Man: Jesus.
I need to chase His heart, not some Brock, Brett, or Brad I may meet at some wannabe-hipster bar on the Upper East Side.
Because at the end of the day, God already has my future husband picked out, and there’s no way I can miss him.
But that doesn’t just give me a free pass to sit back and be complacent either. I have to put myself in play. Get out there and in the mix so that I can meet him, and be open to love when it comes along.
As far as meeting a NYC guy and wanting to end up in Ohio…
That one, I’m going to have to just throw my hands up and simply trust the Father.
I’m going to trust that He has my best interest at heart. I’m going to pray and keep putting myself in position to meet the man God has in mind for me.
So…I guess all that’s left to do now is go find my MetroCard and get my arse on the subway so I’m not late! Who knows. This could be the first day of the rest of my life.
Wish me luck!
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