"Yes, a man is a dangerous thing. So is a scalpel. It can wound or it can save your life. You don't make it safe by making it dull. You put it in the hands of someone who knows what he is doing."
- John Eldridge, Wild at Heart
I've always been a romantic at heart.
If you were to ask me to my face, however. HA. Chances are I wouldn't actually say this (I might actually say the opposite, then immediately change the conversation to discuss the many versatile uses of Chipotle's nacho cheese).
The older I get the more I've learned that this isn't a popular opinion to share, even as the film industry seems to pump out more romantic comedies each year and ads almost always show you pictures of a man and women happy in love as the by-product of whatever they're trying to sell you. Go look at billboards and commercials for jewelry, dishsoap and powder foundation, if you don't believe me.
PAM cooking spray and Helzberg diamonds know something we spend our whole lives denying: that at the heart of each guy and girl, there's a desire to be loved.
I was raised by a strong woman who had her strength stripped from her by a fearful man. For years, I watched my mom kill herself trying to do enough good to somehow earn my dad's love - or, at the very least, stave off his anger.
The message I received through this model of marriage was a clear one: if you stay quiet, stay busy and stay out of the way, you'll be rewarded with love.
When I finally started dating, I really had nothing to go off of in terms of what to look for in a guy. And when you have no fixed destination or vision, well, they say that any place you arrive at will be the right one.
(Spoiler alert: applied in this way, Alice in Wonderland was definitely wrong.)
After my third serious relationship failed, I got sat down by my oldest friend for some tough love.
"Kayla, have you ever stopped to ask yourself if you treat your boyfriends the way your mom treated your dad?" she asked, hands clasped around a steaming caffe mocha.
That single sentence changed everything for me.
Lightbulbs started going off in my head like 1920's camera flashes, years of bad habits suddenly illuminated by startling bursts of clarity.
In the matter of a few hours, I figured out the toxic formula I had unknowingly carried into every single relationship I'd ever had.
Kayla's Recipe for Relational Failure:
A guy would express feelings for me.
I would reciprocate; we went on a few dates, before beginning a relationship.
A few weeks in, I'd realize that the handsome, charismatic guy I fell for had some serious interpersonal issues, which I viewed as an opportunity to help fix instead of as red flags.
I would invest countless hours, dollars and strands of gray hair into attempting to remedy his personal brokenness.
After a period of time, he'd get tired of my Pygmalion project, express that he didn't want to date a weak woman, and we'd break up.
And on and on it went.
Before our lattes had gone cold, I had worked out that I had a crippling fear of dating a man who challenged me in any way - so I played it safe, only dating guys who I knew 'needed' me. Joke's on me, of course, because no one wants to be seen as another person's fixer-upper. But I thought I was restoring balance to the universe by avoiding men with strong, healthy characters and instead partnering up with guys who I could play the role of caregiver for.
News flash: twenty-somethings acting like mothers to their BF's might be the most un-hot thing in the universe. It's no wonder that these guys were scratching their heads, wondering where the girl they fell for went. She was at Meijer, buying $60 worth of groceries before coming home to wash their laundry.
Even typing that out now makes my skin crawl.
I used to believe that being the center of someone's universe was the epitome of love. I used to think the most romantic thing someone could say to me was, "You're my everything."
Okay, first of all, there are a hundred million logistical errors in that statement. There's just no way that one person can be everything to anyone. Secondly, it puts an enormous expectation of perfectionism on the receiver of those words.
In his book Wild at Heart, Eldridge writes,
"...I have counseled many young men who break up with the women they are dating because they had made her their life. She was the sun of his universe, around which he orbited. A man needs a much bigger orbit than a woman. He needs a mission, a life purpose, and he needs to know his name. Only then is he fit for a woman, for only then does he have something to invite her into."
No kidding.
I was teaming up with guys who, at the core, were great guys. But their lack of direction, ambition, and strong character set the stage for a role I was never meant to play.
Here's what I know: I'm an adventure. But I've been on that one before, and I know how it ends. I want an adventure I can take part in. I want a chance to exercise my strength and a relationship where I both rest in the knowledge that my best is enough and also be challenged to give my best. I want to be confident enough in my God-given femininity to let a man be a man.
I want to step into something bigger than myself.
