I’ve never thought of myself as athletic until now.
I think it’s safe to say that not every girl who reads this blog is just like me. And for that, WE SHALL GIVE THANKS TO OUR GOD.
With that said, I’m going to tell you about my experiences in trying to fill certain needs all whilst knowing that I can’t make generalizations because you aren’t necessarily like me. For example, you don’t insist on using the word “whilst” as if you are British when you are, in all reality, a southern hick belle.
So. Here we go.
I have found there to be two sides of me in the whole physical aspect of dating. The first is the Amy Beth who engages in physical stuff because it’s fun. Because, in breaking news, IT IS FUN. This may be a little too much information for some of you, but the only sport that I find myself wanting to sign up for season after season is KISSING. I own the uniform, show up early for game days and would love to one day be team captain. I like to think that, if it was to be added as an Olympic sport, I would get a personal call asking me to be in London for the 2012 games.
I don’t want to brag or anything, but if practice truly does makes perfect, I’m bringing home the gold medal for the good ‘ol US of A.
The physical side of a relationship is also, at least for me, a big stress relief. I was once in a relationship during a very stressful time in my life both personally and professionally (that is, if you can call dealing with processed nacho cheese a profession). He lived out of town and, due to his job, it was easier for me to come to his town for the weekends (I stayed with a family I knew there). By the time I showed up on his doorstep each Friday night, I was ready to leave a week full of stressful work situations behind. On his couch. With the lights way too low.
My advice to you single girls out there? BE YE NOT SO UNWISE.
But there’s another side to this girl you know as Amy Beth, one that began being cultivated years before I kissed my first boy on the playground. And that side looks a lot like a little girl who is somehow still waiting for her daddy to come tuck her in at night, to tell her that she looked pretty at her dance recital. I couldn’t tell you what day it happened, but at some point, it clicked in my mind: maybe I can find him in some other man.
And so, I started looking. I wasn’t looking for an actual father, of course. I was just looking for everything that a father brings along with him: love, affection, attention. As I began dating, I quickly realized that I could use my manipulative nature to get at least a counterfeit version of what I was looking for, especially when it came to the physical side of things.
Of course, I haven’t always had to manipulate the situation; sometimes it just naturally worked out, an equation of sorts that kept whatever guy I was with and I both happy. He wanted to make out, but I just wanted to be held? No problem — while we’re making out, he can hold me. Problem solved.
Except for the fact that eventually, at the end of the night, whichever guy’s arms I had been in that night would always have to let go. I’d go home and fall asleep hours later, confused as to why I didn’t feel, well, filled.
And wondering how that hole had somehow grew far wider, miles deeper.
Your transparency is wonderful. This post is so honest and true. You articulated SO WEELL what so many women feel – myself included.
Yeah, that was supposed to be SO WELL, not SO WEELL. Guess I just got a little bit over exuberant at how right on this post was…
The day of reckoning came for me in college. My dad had bailed on me and my sick mother when I was 13 and immediately after, my grandfather died of pancreatic cancer and my boyfriend moved halfway across the country to go to university because though he was accepted at my university, going there would be “like signing a marriage license.” (read: hel-lo, abandonment and feelings of not being good enough, let’s sit down and have some pizza.) The number of boys I had kissed shot way up between my freshman and sophomore year of college. Then, I met the guy who would one day be my husband.
And I messed it up, royally. See, there was another guy who had started following me around asking, “you wanna make out?” (sadly, true.) and one day I gave in. Without telling anyone. It wasn’t that I enjoyed all the lying and deceit – it was great that I got attention from one guy but TWO!? that was like a twisted bonus. This went on for about 6 months and one day after many destroyed friendships and a wake of bewildered people, I woke up and looked around and realized a) what a stupid game I was playing just to feel wanted b) I didn’t want to be that girl who blamed all her issues on her dad – that I had to start taking responsibility for my actions.
It is not a fun road to go down, and I am thankful for the grace and mercy not only from God but the people around me who saw the better part of me. I just had to start believing that according to God I was worth better than what I was allowing for myself. And that wasn’t easy at all.
If only our dads knew how difficult it is for us to fill the void they left behind, even if it was just emotional absence in my case. It’s so good that you see where the need is coming from, and I hope this post makes other girls/ladies who struggle with the same need to fill that void realize where it comes from.
Hello 18-21, I haven’t visited that part of my life in a while.
Love your transparency. Love this post.
mmmhmm. you and me both, sister.
Once again, I am blown away by your ability to put stuff into words. You rock!
I really wish I could just hug you right now!
And, just remember, he IS out there, he is SO worth it! And you have the PERFECT Father in the meantime, adn he will hold you with no strings attached!
Oh, praise God for your honesty. Girlfriend, love this “series”.