10 Reasons You Should Think Twice About Dating Someone Who Goes to Your Church

DISCLAIMER: Every guy I have ever dated that has gone to the same church has been a perfect gentleman. No complaints or negative experiences here. Also, there [were] only 8 reasons.

Reason #1 - The Awkward

Let's talk about the awkward, shall we? Awkward: He asks you out. You say no. He proceeds to pretend that you have fallen from the face of the earth. Awkward: Your friend dated his friend's roommate's set dresser's bartender's ex-girlfriend's cousin. Awkward: You volunteer together every other Sunday and still have to see each other at church, even if it ends...awkwardly.

Reason #2 - "That Guy"

Let's talk about that guy (there also exists "that girl," I'm sure, but all my experiences have been with that guy. Sorry.) Have you ever heard "No one wants to be that guy"? Well, revise that to "No one wants to date that guy." Harsh, but true. Why? Because he hits on every single single girl at church, which means he's: A) Desperate, B) Has very little dating experience, or C) Desperate and has very little dating experience. It might be poor personal hygiene. It might be the tendency to constantly bring up a struggle with lust during coed group discussions. It might be an inability to take "no" for an answer (At which point that guy becomes "that stalker" and you might have to get a restraining order.) Regardless, that guy will always ask you out, as a rule. Which is, as you already may have guessed, awkward.

Reason #3 - She's Just Not That Into You

This is not, strictly speaking, entirely true. It's just that, if you like them, they probably don't like you, and vice versa. When girls complain that, "No one asks me out," what they really mean is "No one cute (or that I like) has asked me out." I theorize that, realistically, there are one or two girls or guys everyone wants to date. They, in turn, have inexplicably taken a vow of celibacy and/or are holding out for Ryan Gosling. Yes, the guys too.

Reason #4 - Nice Girls Finish Last

You are too nice. If you were raised to be a good Christian guy or girl, you probably aren't completely comfortable saying "no"--just "no"--no qualifications, no "You're a really nice guy, but..." or "I'm really focusing on my acting right now, so..." These things take practice. If you're nice to a guy, he might think you're flirting with him (in fact, he will definitely think you're flirting with him if you don't want him to think you're flirting with him). Now, you're stuck somewhere between a rock and a literalist interpretation of scripture: If you're not nice, you're a bad Christian. If you're too nice, you're a good Christian, but now this guy is stuck to you like a barnacle to a whale's arse no matter how politely you tell him that you're focusing on your walk with the Lord.

Reason #5 - The Prohibition Against Drinking in Church [Communion Wine Excepted]

Just kidding. Sort of. Problem is, Christians take dating way too seriously, and at church, everyone is on their best, church-behavior. Plus, when you're screening every member of the opposite sex for desirable life partner traits, it kind of takes the fun out of dating, or most forms of social interaction for that matter.

Reason #6 - The Sisterhood of the Traveling Gossip Pants

People, they talk. And by people, I mean girls. They talk about guys at church and whether or not it would be a good idea to date them. This leaves, oh let's see, one and a half guys who are acceptable to date. All the single girls at church then hold a gladiatorial contest to determine who gets to sit next to him during Bible study. (Of course, then he goes and says something that could be construed as insensitive and we all take a vow of celibacy and/or continue to hold out for Ryan Gosling.) It's brutal.

Reason #7 - The Insta-Couple

The minute you sit with that guy or girl at church, everyone assumes you are a couple. I'm not sure why this is. Probably because when you look around at church, it's all couples or suicidal single people sitting by themselves. Or with friends. This makes so much sense. Guys I barely know have sought me out at church in order to sit next to me. I guess that's their way of staking their claim. Perhaps there's something about singing "Blessed Be Your Name" next to someone that really clinches whether you should spend the rest of your life with them. Sitting together = practically married, after all.

Reason #8 - The Insta-Wife [Add one heaping tablespoon Jesus and stir]

Church engagements are known for being criminally short. Or maybe it's just my church. Soon after becoming someone's insta-girlfriend or boyfriend you are this close to becoming someone's insta-husband or wife. It's insane. Not to mention scary. What makes it worse is that everyone will be secretly or not-so-secretly judging you for your three-minute-engagement. You dog, you.

Reason #9 - The Temple of the Holy Spirit Market

Think about it for a minute--scoping out your church for dates feels...a little bit icky. "Wow, that was a really great sermon--I really felt like God was speaking to me about---whoa, that guy in the plaid is hott!" Or worse: "She's really cute, I wonder if...OMG! WEDDING RING ALERT!" Treating church like a singles mixer pretty much always leads to feeling like the least spiritual, most shallow person on the face of the earth.

Reason #10 - The Clincher

You might meet someone and fall in love. This reason alone should be enough for you to never think of, or even CONSIDER dating someone who goes to your church. Don't say I didn't warn you.




More on church dating:

Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys are All Dented Cans - Introduction
Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - The Misogynist
Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - The Coward
Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - The Racist
Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - The Myth of Persistence 
Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - Entitlement

The Burden of Fear

As I walked past the seedy--yet somehow comfortingly familiar--entranceway to the local crack den on my way to church, I couldn't help but think about respect, and its importance in my life.

Yes, I was thinking about the suspect(ly) named Love and Respect Ministries and how as far as I can tell, it's mostly about women learning to respect men, not men learning to love women. As it turns out, I have a theory as to why this is:

Books, conferences, and ministries focused on making marriage better are primarily marketed toward women. And the primary marketing tool at work is fear. Fear of infidelity (his). Fear of a less-than-great marriage. Fear of not being good enough (as a wife, mother).

But the core fear, that coveted, prized, and beloved of advertisers the world over fear--is the fear of abandonment. How do I know this? 'Cause Google tells me so. One of the most persistent, recurring ads I get online warns me: "Why Men Pull Away: 10 Ugly Mistakes Women Make That Ruins [sic] Any Chances Of A Relationship."

[Then there's this Christian book, "What Your Husband Isn't Telling You" by the same author of "Why Men Hate Going to Church." This guy has got this angle on lock. I love the contradictory messages: men are simple and have basic needs (food, sex); men are a mystery, buy this book.]

Christian or secular, it doesn't matter. The fear is the same. The message is the same: If he leaves, it's because of you. You did something wrong.

This plays out on a larger scale as well. Why are men leaving the church (or why don't they attend in the first place)? Women. The feminization of Christianity. The predominance of xx chromosomes. Who's supposed to do something about this "crisis"? Women, particularly if they hope to ever get married to a Christian man.

Seems a bit backwards to me--men aren't stepping up and being men in the church! Who's to blame? Women! The most manly thing we can do is blame someone else (Eve) for our problems.

But, sadly, it seems that this kind of fear, no matter how poorly articulated, sells.

I've been writing about the burdens that women are expected to bear in our culture, and I feel like this is a key burden.

It fits so neatly with a pressing temptation women face: To take on blame for the failure of a relationship. Or I dunno, maybe it's just me.

There's something oddly comforting about taking on the burden of blame, perhaps because it's easier than anger, or perhaps because it turns into something you can control. If I change my behavior, repent, respect, submit, then he won't leave me.

There's the fear too, that men always cheat. That they can't keep it in their pants. It's in their very nature to stray. And this fear too, sells.

And as far as the feminization of church goes...color me confused. I get the part about wanting "adventure to live" and "battle to fight" and such, but I doubt that this translates into "What I really want as a Christian man is to literally go into battle and die for my family/faith/country" or "I could really use a few more disfiguring knife wounds so that everyone will know I'm a real man" or "I want nothing more than to do the back-breaking, manly labor of a lumberjack for the rest of my life" or "I wish that disemboweling scene at the end of Braveheart could happen today."

All this "Men were made for battle" stuff seems to translate into, "Get back, woman! Let the men lead." Am I wrong?

I am not a man. And far be it from me to offer here a definition of masculinity. However, I am a daughter and a sister and a friend, and I'd like to challenge this conception of what it means to be a man.

To return to this article, my favorite article, from the website Love and Respect Now, I think we need men who can honestly and non-defensively talk to their own daughters. I'm not sure what, in the name of Mel Gibson, this has to do with battle, or MMA, or adventure, or knife throwing, or rescuing wenches from dragons, but it seems important to me. And probably way, way more difficult. Is that not true strength?

You Never Marry the Right Job

My dad's a really funny guy. He also gives pretty good advice. I can remember some advice he gave me once, when I was stewing in a post-high-school-what-the-heck-am-I-gonna-do-with-my-life funk:

Just move. Choose a direction, and go in that direction. It's much easier to steer when you're moving.

It was and is still pretty good advice. And I think I'm slightly less anxiety-stricken about the whole "What am I going to be when I grow up?" conundrum.

I can remember posing this question to a handful of college professors my senior year. One of them said, "The more I live life, the more it becomes a question of 'How?' rather than 'What?'" And man, isn't that profound. Another professor said that the movie High Fidelity contained the answer to my question. I've seen the movie High Fidelity, and I still don't know what he's talking about. [If you know, please point me to chapter and verse. Thank you.]

And the more I think about, the more I think that we (naive young persons) tend to view the choice of career as we do the choice of a mate. We believe in "The One."

We believe in that one career, dream, passion that will completely and utterly fulfill us, forever and ever and ever. Find your passion. Follow your dreams. Keep pressing on and don't give up.

Have you read the article, You Never Marry the Right Person? What if you applied this same basic concept to your career?

What if your dream job was occasionally a nightmare? (All y'all filmmakers know exactly what I'm talking about.) What if it required hard work, sacrifice, and doing a bunch of crap you don't wanna do? What if, on some days you can't stand it, and on other days, it outright takes your breath away?

Maybe, just maybe, some people do have "The One"--that one thing they were created to do, that they would wither away without: Einstein and physics, Beethoven and music, Emily Dickinson and poetry...

I know that at times, writing feels less like a hobby and a whole lot more like an identity. I don't just write. I AM a writer. It seems like part of my very being, something I take for granted.

But the more I live and work and write, the less I believe in "The One"--the one job/career/calling that will bring me the fulfillment I think I deserve.

I get a little bit frustrated with people who think that their very identity is tied to a career or artistic endeavor. [You're not an actor, you're a freakin' human being! Your life and identity cannot be encompassed in the word "actor."]

Truth be told, most people are good at more than one thing and find enjoyment in doing more than one thing. For example, I really like my current job. I truly enjoy what I've been learning to do. However, when I think about it as a "career," I freak out.

Can I really see myself doing this for THE NEXT 10 YEARS?!! (They're called commitment issues. Yeah, I know.)

That's the problem with believing in "The One." It breeds panic and a sense of discontent. But there exists the possibility that I only think this way because I have yet to meet the right job/person. Maybe you never meet or find the one, you just meet or find the one that's right for you.

I think we can at least agree that it's possible to marry the WRONG person or job.

And I'm challenged, too, by the words of a friend, from back when I used to work in a warehouse everyday: "You didn't come to LA to pack books into boxes."

Yeah, I didn't. I don't think anyone does, truthfully. No one comes to LA to wait tables either. What then, did I come to LA to do?

This question brings up a mixture of guilt, fear, and avoidance. It's answering this question that asks more of me than I think I can bear.

Love in the Third Grade and How Things Never Change

We're standing, alone, in the middle of a field, just me and the boy that likes me. It's recess. Is there snow on the ground? Maybe. Maybe not. I'm in third grade. I live in Maine. There probably is snow on the ground.

"What do you think?"
"What do I think about what?"
"What do you think about me?"

I pause. What kind of question is that?

"I guess...I'm amused."
"Amused??"

But wait, it gets worse.

"Yeah, amused. Do you need to look it up in the dictionary??"

Emotional confrontations. Never my strong point.

I would say, never corner a girl in the middle of a field during recess and demand to know how she feels about you. But really, isn't that what we all want, to some extent?

Not the recess part necessarily, but the clarity--I've made my feelings clear. Now you can tell me if you feel the same way.

When I was in fourth grade, I moved to China. Do you know what fourth graders think China looks like? Little grass huts, everywhere.

In third grade, I was in the advanced reading and spelling groups. In spelling, we learned words like "vacuum" and "restaurant."

I told a boy I was "amused."

Years later, and not much has changed. What if your entire romantic future is basically laid out for you in the third grade? I don't like people easily. I'm bad at discussing feelings. I'm a bit arrogant about my large vocabulary. I say the wrong things at the wrong time, in the wrong tone of voice. Perhaps, one day, someone will find these qualities endearing.

You know what China looks like? China looks like a big city where I don't speak the language and there are too many cars and too many bicycles. I will learn the language. I will explore the city. I will write back to my fourth grade class and disabuse them of their little grass huts, everywhere. But not yet. For now, China looks like a big city where I am a foreigner and I don't speak the language.

You know what? There was definitely snow on the ground. Definitely. I'm sure of it.

The Burden of Shame

Wow, I've been writing about shame a lot lately. And really, all of these burdens seem to be about shame in one way or another, see also, the burden of secrecy. But this time, I'm gonna get a little bit more specific. Hopefully. We'll see.

Have you ever heard the (Christian) cliche that women need love and men need respect? There are whole books, websites, ministries, etc. devoted to this idea. These books, websites, and ministries list hundreds of ways women can work on showing respect for men--you know, shoulder that burden, that burden of shame.

It's not hard to see that shame and respect are two sides to the same coin, or to hone in a little more exactly on the meaning, shame and ego. The message is clear in this and other contexts: Men aren't stepping up at church. Well, then women must step down. Men aren't stepping up to lead their families. Again, women must step down, respecting and honoring the divine hierarchy of male headship. It only makes sense that women must become less so that men can...become. Women must diminish. They need love, not respect, and so this diminishment, this restraint, can only be easy for them.

Even in secular contexts, it's clear that one harsh word from a woman can easily destroy a man, no matter how powerful he is. Therefore, women must wield this awesome power with care. A man's ego is a fragile, fragile thing--much like a tiny, speckled robin's egg. A woman's job, in marriage and career, is to faithfully guard that little egg with her very soul throughout the great obstacle race of life. If the egg drops and the man's ego is crushed--it's her fault.

Men must be protected from their own shame. Perhaps if a woman feels shame, she's just being her normal, insecure female self. Shame looks good on her. But if a man feels shame, it's a crisis of masculinity.

I don't deny that both love and respect are important in a marriage. However, if a man or woman has not worked out the problem of shame for themselves--it's doubtful that all the respect or love in the world will make them feel whole.

I suspect this often plays out in abusive relationships. And I wonder if shame often looks a whole lot like rage. If only she didn't "make" him angry. If only she didn't set him off with her careless remarks. I've mentioned before that I was once in an emotionally manipulative relationship, and he would often say, "You don't respect me," when I failed to do what he wanted me to do. And he would rage.

Now I know that someone's else's shame, their anger, is not my responsibility, just as my shame, my ego is no one's responsibility but my own. And if you think that persons of the female gender don't struggle with ego--Hi, my name's M. Nice to meet you.

And you know, I wonder. I wonder at what age we start teaching girls that the shame of others is their burden to carry.

I read this article on the Love And Respect Now website (Yes, it's Love And Respect for the younger crowd. Eep.) about daughters engaging their emotionally distant fathers in a respectful way. The article has some pretty good advice. Part of growing up is forgiving your parents and engaging with them as real people with real flaws.

But part of me feels deeply saddened. Here's an excerpt:

"It’s also important to note that while a man can talk about relationships and marriage, it may not be as energizing to him as it is to you because he feels like he might be a failure to you in this area. Men often feel that “questions,” no matter your motive, are calling them into question because they believe women want them to change, resulting in them feeling not liked by you."

[So, men just wanna be liked, just like everyone else? I dunno. These fathers don't seem to like their daughters very much anyway (not talking to them, ignoring them to watch TV...) There may be little to lose.]

Well, the writing is depressingly clunky, but that's not what I'm talking about. Ouch. Just ouch. Any question is suspect. If you know me, you know I'm screwed. I might not be cut out for this whole love and respect thing.

It distresses me that the daughter is, emotionally speaking, the only adult in this exchange, ever careful of her father's delicate masculine feelings. There is no suggestion that pain and hurt can be honestly and frankly expressed. Real emotion is way, way too threatening in this context. Men can't handle the anger of women, unless it's couched in "respect." And I know we're talking (presumably) about grown daughters here, but at what age do daughters start bearing the emotional burdens of their fathers? The day they stop being daddy's little girl and start asking real questions? When is dad's emotional withdrawal first conceived of as "my fault"?

To conclude, as a woman, have you ever felt compelled to bear the burden of shame and if so how, why? As a man, have you ever expected a woman to bear the burden of shame for you and if so how, why?

And forgive the disrespect. It was not intended.

The Burden of Secrecy

So I've gotten some feedback on the "burden of intention" and I feel the need to clarify. I'm talking primarily about unwanted attention. This is not a case of I wish the guy would make the first move or why won't he ask me out, but of OH-CRAP-I-THINK-HE-LIKES-ME-MUST-AVOID-ALL-INTERACTION-OR-I'LL-BE-ACCUSED-OF-LEADING-HIM-ON-WHICH-WOULD-MAKE-ME-A-BAD-BAD-PERSON.

Let's move on, shall we.

The Burden of Secrecy

This one is hard to write about, as I don't fully understand it myself. I look back on instances when I've willingly shouldered this burden and it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Why?

Of course, women are not the only ones expected to bear this particular burden. Take the victims in the Jerry Sandusky case, for instance. For whatever sick reason, children are often held to secrecy too. The powerless are expected to protect the powerful, the victims their victimizers. For another distressing example, you can go here.

So why don't I--me, personally--speak up about inappropriate male behavior? Why do I tend to keep someone else's "shame" a secret?

Well, for one, silence and secrecy might be a burden, but I think we all realize that speaking up carries its own price. In fact, this corollary could apply anytime an individual speaks out against injustice or wrongdoing. The more powerful the institution or individual, the higher the price to pay. If I speak up, I know that my conduct, character, dress, and body could be scrutinized as well.

I can think of one specific example where I kept silent, partly out of a strong (but misguided?) sense of self-sufficiency. I asked myself, can I handle this on my own? And the answer was yes. So I did. But it goes deeper than that. I wanted to spare him (my harasser) shame and embarrassment. I was concerned not only for his feelings, but for his reputation.

Which leads me to this question: How was it that I was able to internalize a borderline harasser's potential shame to the point of keeping quiet, but he was unable to--for even a second--empathize with the discomfort he caused me with his unwanted and inappropriate verbal and physical advances?

Is this the way we socialize good girls and good boys? We teach the girls to feel for others. To desire to be desired above all else. To keep the peace, and for goodness' sake, if you don't have anything nice to say--

We teach the boys that empathy is for girls and that their [the boys'] desires are always legitimate. It's only harassment if he's ugly. No, it's harassment if it's unwanted. It's harassment if you tell someone to stop and they persist anyway.

I have a new standard now, for speaking up. I ask myself, if this happened to someone else, some other girl, would I be angry? If it were my friend, my sister, would I want this to happen to her? I can't think of a question that has the potential to make me feel more enraged, more protective.

And I was wrong, by the way, about his shame and about mine. He felt none. I felt all.

Shame, Expectations and Unnecessary Suffering

I was on the verge of tears--not at sad news though. At happy news, good news, welcome news. These, however, were not happy tears, I'm dismayed to report. These were more like tears of frustration--frustration over unnecessary suffering.

I'm sure none of you were ever like this, but as a child, I was fully capable of making myself unhappy--of denying myself good things like forgiveness, hugs, even pastry, because I was determined to be miserable, no matter what. There's a pride of grief, of unhappiness, of cutting off your nose to spite your face, because it's MY nose dammit, and I'll do what I please with it. Let the noseless rejoice in their sweet, if unsavory, suffering. 

Of course as an adult, my suffering is much more refined now, if still as unnecessary as ever. For one, there's procrastination, which many agree is a fine, even dignified form of suffering. You suffer, you suffer, you get the work done--and then the suffering ends, and you're left with nothing but emptiness where the suffering once was. 

Then there's the suffering of extremes, the rushing from one pole to the other in a frenzy of self-abnegation. Pick a personal fault, any fault. Perhaps you are prideful, insensitive, egotistical--sometimes. Generalize this fault into an all-encompassing final word on the nature of your basic character. You are arrogance itself. Criminally insensitive to other people. You are flawed to the core, and somehow, it feels so right to be so wrong. Tears. Abasement before God and perhaps other people. It all makes sense now. And this suffering will save you from yourself. 

And let's not forget the suffering of standards and expectations, your own and others', that you will never be able to live up to. Ever. The kind of things where you fail before you even start. Where you can never make him or her happy, no matter how hard you try. And even if you make that grade, get into that school, land that job, they will never be proud of you. And even if they were, it still wouldn't be enough. The kind of standards where you're tempted to say, screw it. Forget it. I won't even try. But even then, the bitterness rises up inside of you. And you suffer. 

And what about the suffering of miscommunication. Missed communication. Message not received. This one, perhaps, eats me up most of all. You spoke, but I was not listening. But I heard you say--But you never said--And I never bothered to ask--Because to ask, for clarification, for reassurance, for love, is to admit vulnerability. To admit that I need you. That I need. All that I wanted was there for the taking. I had only to ask. But I did not ask because I did not want you to know how much I wanted to ask. I would not risk even that one moment of vulnerability, because I would rather you see me as self-contained and complete, needing nothing, no one. 

Which brings me to the suffering of self-sufficiency. Some people, and I don't admit to knowing anyone like this, would much rather suffer than ask for help. Would much rather risk isolation than rejection. Let's be real here. There are certain types of martyrdom that are very highly regarded in our society, the most socially accepted of them all probably being martyrdom for your job, your career, your art. My art is my life, you say. Nonsense. You are not a paintbrush. Your life is your life. No one, not even God, is asking you to suffer for art. 

That's the problem with suffering though. It can feel so good. So noble. Soul-cleansing even. It's like eating vegetables--this tastes so bad it must be good for me. 

But is it necessary?




Sources of inspiration:

http://peterrollins.net/?p=3739
The story of Hannah as heard at http://www.churchinhollywood.com/#/sundays/podcasts