Chapter 1 (Part 2)

 It started off slowly, to be sure. At first, he was the one calling me; he was the one stopping over to see me. I felt wonderful and valued. I didn’t really have to think much about whether or not he liked me because it seemed obvious. Why else would he see me so much, flirt with me, and say such sweet things? It didn’t seem to bother me at the time that no commitment was stated or even mentioned. To me, I was getting attention and that was worth quite a bit.

            However, a few months passed and suddenly I was starting to get nervous. He wasn’t coming around as much, wasn’t calling as often, and the sweet words were fewer and farther between. I started to wonder why, thinking maybe it was about me. Maybe I wasn’t pretty enough, or wasn’t flirting enough. I started feeling pathetic because I was talking about it all the time and trying to figure out what was going on.

In my search for truth, a friend of mine said he had some sage advice. He said my situation sounded similar to his. Maybe it sounds familiar to you as well:

I didn’t mean to hurt her, but I kind of enjoyed the ride. I knew I had power over her, knew I could control her, and enjoyed it. If I needed attention that day, I would go over by her and turn on my charm. Sometimes just a smile would do the trick. Especially when she was angry…all I had to do was look at her like I was concerned, and she would melt. She’d say (giggling), “Stop being cute! I can’t be mad at you anymore.” I did have moments where I felt horrible. Like I said, I knew what I was doing. It’s just that she made it so easy for me. She said how much she liked me, and didn’t even care that I didn’t say it back. I loved the way she acted towards me. It made me feel so good about myself. Eventually what I was doing really did hit me; I saw how selfish I was. I guess I cared about her enough to stop hurting her, so I told her we had to end it. It was the best thing for her, but I wish she wouldn’t have wasted two years of her life on a guy that would never have married her.

To tell you the truth, I started bawling when he told me this story. I realized this story was very similar to what had happened to me. He even went on to say that this lady was kind of like a doll to him. When he wanted to play, he would take her out of the box, play with her a while, and then put her back when he was bored or tired. He said he didn’t want anyone else to have her so, if another guy got too close, he would act protective and suave and she would stop herself and come back to him.

I can’t say how horrid I felt when I realized I had been duped the same way. It happened little by little, so I didn’t even notice it. However, looking back, I realize that I ended up initiating all the conversations about where our relationship was and where it was going, I was the one admitting I was falling in love, I was the one pouring out the compliments, and I was the one going out of my way to make him happy. He was the one coming over only when it was convenient, he was the one teasing me and putting himself above me, he was the one avoiding all “uncomfortable” conversations about what was going on between us, and he was the one not answering my phone calls if he didn’t feel like it. Sadly, I was the one who was willing to stay up until the wee hours of the morning, not getting enough sleep before I had to get up for work, and he would leave after thirty minutes with me, if anything “more important” came along.

I wish I could say it wasn’t so, but it took me until I heard the words, “I was leading you on” (more than once) to realize that I indeed had become a slave to the obsession of a relationship. I say obsession because it was never really a relationship, but my idea of what I wish had been one.

And so, I finally had to face the truth—that he owned me. Owned my heart, my actions, my motivations. My life was spent waiting for a call or a smile or, if I was lucky enough, a chance to be around him.

So often we, as women, find ourselves as puppets to a marionette who decides when to move us and when to put us away in a heap of tangled limbs and strings. We place ourselves in his hands, giving him permission to rule our lives only when we feel worthless enough to do so.

Thank God, literally, those things don’t a have to stay that way. We DO have the power to pick ourselves up, cut the strings, and walk away, even if stiffly at first, to place our tangled selves in the hands of our Creator, who can make even the most broken thing be whole once again.

Women Don't Woo--Chapter 1 (Part 1)

Chapter 1: He Owns You

It is 1:18 in the morning, and I’m sleepless in bed, still agonizing, “Why didn’t he come over?”

I called his cell phone after church this morning. He didn’t answer (“Thank you, God!”) so I put on my cheerful voice and said, “Hey, just called to let you know I got the sermon on CD for you from church! I can’t wait for you to hear the sermon; it was so great! I hope work is going well, and maybe you can give me a call when you have some time?!” Pathetic. What I REALLY wanted to say was, “Hey, thanks for hanging up on me the other night and then leaving suddenly last night. What the heck is your problem?” However, his previous behavior has told me that being direct and angry does no good. All I can do is be sweet and try to lure him over so I can somehow weave my true feelings into the middle of a base discussion. So, on with the story…

 He called me back an hour later. AHA! My plan worked thus far. He sounds happy. He asks me about church, and asks where I am. “At the mall,” I say, and he asks, “With who?” Passing by the nagging instinct to say, “Raoul, the hot guy I met last night after you hung up on me,” I say, “I’m by myself,” which is the truth, after all. So, we talk awhile, but he says nothing about coming over to get the CD (which, by the way, I bought just so I could con him into stopping by that night). Not wanting to sound needy, I decide not to suggest it and hope he surprises me after he gets off of work. So, can you guess where that leaves me tonight? Yep, you got it: hanging around the house, trying to make myself busy, while I day dream about the possible visit.

Hours go by and the phone remains silent. 9, 10, 11pm rolls around and I finally come to terms with the fact that my day dream will remain a fantasy. I try to fall asleep, but all I can do is think, “Did I say something wrong on the phone? Maybe I shouldn’t have made that flirty comment…maybe I should’ve acted more standoff-ish, …maybe I should’ve called him and brought the CD over to his house.”

I wonder how many of you are shaking your heads in pity and how many of you feel your stomach sinking in memories of similar instances. The truth is, I shouldn’t have been waiting around at all. Looking back on it, it seems quite pathetic, me spending hours waiting in my apartment, wasting time because I was too full of nervousness and anticipation to do anything of value, hoping he’d call me or come over. Who does that? The sad answer is that the women who do that are the ones who feel not-so-valuable. I gave more value to a chance to see or talk to him above my time, which is precious.

I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to do something else with my time…call a girlfriend, read a book, help someone, or get out my Bible.I know the latter suggestion sounds like something you’d read in a cheesy “What to Do When You’re Down” book, but really, what could have been better? I have now discovered that, deep down, this longing for a man to make me feel loved and accepted is truly a need to realize that I already am loved and accepted by the creator of the universe, and the creator of me. God loves me even though I don’t deserve it, failing every day. Now THAT should be the foundation of a relationship with someone who I can love and depend on every day. Instead of looking for acceptance from a man, it’s essential to grow a relationship with my fierce and passionate savior.

            Maybe it’s strange to hear of God described as such. We usually hear God being described as things such as a gentleman. This is hard for me to swallow. I mean, I understand the point that God doesn’t force us to do anything that we don’t want to, but the connotation of God being a gentleman makes him seem like a wimp, which he definitely is not.  In Psalm 18, David cries to God for help, and God does much more than just say, “At your service, me lad!”  Instead, God “shot his arrows and scattered [the enemies] great bolts of lightning and routed them. The valleys of the sea were exposed and the foundations of the earth laid bare at your rebuke, O Lord, at the blast of breath from your nostrils.” I don’t know about you, but when I picture a gentleman, I see a guy in a sharp looking suit pulling out my chair, not nostril breath upsetting the foundations of the earth.

            So, how about seeing God as a lover who will “never leave you nor forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5)? I still struggle at times to see God in this way, but reading His Word, especially the Psalms, repeatedly demonstrate his faithfulness, his passion, his strength, and even his jealousy to have me to himself. So, if he is to be my number one love, how furious must he be when he sees me spending an evening wallowing in my own misery because I didn’t get a phone call! Instead of rejoicing in this opportunity to live, I sit here alone thinking of what I can do to keep myself busy enough to not notice the phone is silent. 

            In all honesty, this frightens me. How is it that I got to this point?