The gist of his diatribe can be summarized in these basic
points:
1.
I have too many friends in general
2.
I have far too many male friends – in fact, I
should not have ANY male friends at ALL
3.
If I have male friends who are married, then I
am causing those men to have emotional affairs
4.
If I had male friends when I was married, Tom
had every right to go through my phone and check my emails and check on my
whereabouts at all times
5.
And why do I feel a need to stay in touch with
old flames? He asked me if it … how did he word it…. He asked me if it was
essential to my self-esteem. I can’t remember how he worded it. I do know I
wanted to gouge his ever-loving eyeballs out.
Recently I find myself in a new relationship. With a guy I
really, really like. And I find myself circling back to this argument from my
past. I was furious and indignant at the time. I was certain I was right, and
he was wrong. But now all the sudden, dang nab it, I’m starting to see some
truth in what he said. Not how he said it, mind you. But point number 5 has
been taking me for a beating today.
Why DO I stay friends with ex-boyfriends or love interests
or whatever you want to call them? What benefit do I gain? What am I doing and
why am I doing it? I could argue I liked them as people then, they aren’t bad
people, why throw the baby out with the bath water? We can be friends. But can
we, really? Once a line has been crossed physically, can one truly retreat? Or
is it like a safety net, to catch you if ever you should fall? I started
wondering this morning, and wondering hard – an intense self-examination – of
what exactly I am doing and what my motives are. I have plenty of friends. I
really do. If I retain these old interests as friends – am I truly giving
myself over in a new relationship? Are they bed post notches, or charms, or
validation that I’m an okay person, or safety nets? And even worse, if they are
married, or in relationship – what am I doing? What is anyone gaining? Is there
really any true benefit to these relationships? I kept coming up with a big
resounding NO. It was a convicting NO. I argued with it – I mean, one friend
I’ve been friends with since I was 12 – am I just to throw that away? I think,
maybe, yes. Yes, I am.
6 miles of running gives you a lot of time to think. Let’s
switch subjects kind of – but they interrelate. Stay with me.
I married the first man I had sex with. Why? I think because
he was the first person I had sex with. I think sex clouded my vision. I think
sex made my emotions override my intellect. And the more people told me I was
doing the wrong thing, the more I knew I was doing the wrong thing, but the
more intent I became on doing it. I had my pride in the way, I had my emotions
in the way, I had my righteousness at stake, I couldn’t re-attain my virginity,
and in the end, I spun out. I spun out bad. And then, I lost sight of my
preciousness. My self-worth became caught up in my sexual attractiveness and in
my sexual performance. I looked at attraction as a challenge to prove my own
worth. I sought to overcome all the years where I felt I couldn’t offer what
men wanted. I offered. And over time it went from a gift to a commodity. A
second marriage where I wasn’t cherished - failed. At some point that’s all I
knew how to be cherished for, but it doesn’t last. I found myself in a downward
spiral, unable to achieve what my heart desired. Loathing myself. Unable to
establish any sort of boundary – realizing I really had never had any. Not
really.
I remember driving home from somewhere I should not have
been, feeling completely washed out. Destroyed. Hating myself for what I was
doing. Unwilling to surrender – unable to stop the merry-go-round. The air was
still – I almost felt high. High on hopelessness – do you know what I mean? And
a song came on the radio – on a CD I had listened to 100 times – but I’d never
heard this song. “Don’t say goodbye, don’t say hello. We’re just standing on
the surface….Don’t say alright, don’t say I know, I promise it’s not worth it.
I want to know who you are, even if you’re falling apart. Reach in and touch
your scars and all the shame you’ve kept in your heart. ‘Cause it’s not enough,
it’s not enough, just to say that you’re okay. I need your hurt, I need your
pain, it’s not love any other way. Let’s not pretend, Stop your parade, trying
to convince me that you’re alright and everything’s okay. Yet, do you even know
me? …..” I must have hit repeat on the CD player 50 times. That wasn’t the end,
but I was nearing the brink.
I decided 2 years 5 months and 3 days ago (not that anyone
is counting) that pre-marital sex was an issue for me and I was not going to
participate in it anymore. This was no easy decision – I’m not one of those
women who hate sex anyway. Some women do, I know, so this decision might have
been an easy one for them. But I love it. I would even say it was (is?) an
addiction for me. And it wasn’t that I just woke up one day and said, “Gee, I
think having sex outside of marriage is detrimental. I’m not going to do it
anymore.” No, this was a knock down drag out wrestling match with God that went
on for an extended period of time. And I finally surrendered – or maybe I just
lost the wrestling match. There had to be something better in store. There had
to be.
In 2011 dating after divorce with an agenda of no
pre-marital sex doesn’t really make you too popular with the men. So in one
sense it felt like I was cutting my own throat, but the repercussions of what I
was doing were even harsher. I wasn’t going to make it. Out of desperation, I
submitted. And it wasn’t easy. It isn’t easy. And I honestly am pretty sure I’m
still not doing it on my own accord.
Anyway, I flashed back to high school. I didn’t believe in
premarital sex. There were two boys I really, really liked, who basically were
not interested in me because I would not “put out.” Well, they were interested,
but they were more interested in the girls who would. And it hurt me. It hurt
my self-worth. You’d think I felt I was better, meeting a higher standard or
something like that, but I felt the opposite. I felt rejected. I felt like a
child and they were seeking women. And I am still friends with these two, now
men, to this day. Both married. WHY IS THAT? What am I accomplishing? I thought
today to myself how I am still friends with these two, and I wonder how much of
a relationship exists between them and the ones they were interested in at the
time… So maybe I did accomplish something. Maybe our relationships did last
longer, but to what end? What am I seeking? What am I proving?
I got convicted today. I got convicted of letting the charms
go off the charm bracelet, because they are filthy rags, really. It’s not an
easy decision. As I walked through Facebook unfriending…. Well, it’s a process,
let me tell you. Some of it was easy, some of it not so easy. Some I feel I owe
an explanation, even knowing they won’t understand the explanation more than
likely. And also thinking they probably don’t even really care. I think it’s
more my issue.
I’m afraid they’ll think me a religious zealot. Well, maybe
I am.
But if I am to present myself as a holy sacrifice, I’m going
to have to let it go. And that’s my end goal – to present myself as a holy
sacrifice. Which I would have scoffed at just a few years ago – me? A holy
sacrifice? But yes, me, a holy sacrifice. And hopefully, if God wills, not just
that, but also a restored woman of virtue to a godly man who treasures her. To
offer up to him this holy sacrifice. And have it be sacred, like it was meant
to be, in the beginning. To have sex have intense incredible worth – but not self-worth.
Not be something to prove, but again be something truly treasured to give.
Yeah, so the guy that told me I shouldn’t keep old
boyfriends around? He’s right; therefore, I unfriended him on Facebook today
(of course after thanking him for his insight). I’m not completely ungrateful.
