Single

So, I was trying to fall asleep the other night.  I was unsuccessful.

I believe God likes to keep me awake to chat with me every once in a while, He was in the mood for a talk so we chatted about me feeling sorry for myself about being single.

Let me preface this.  

Almost everyone at work is on the lookout for a date for me.  Not because I asked them to.  One met a guy at an auto parts store, got the guy's number and wants me to call him.  Not gonna happen.  My boss wants me to go out for a drink with her nephew.  Seriously?  Another one said I should look into "It's Just Lunch."  It's just what?!

Here's the typical conversation:

Co-worker: "Mags you are so cute (or funny, smart, nice, sweet,etc.) do you have a boyfriend?"

Me: Thinking here we go.  "Nope."

Co-worker: "Really?!?!"

And then it's a round of 20 questions about what I'm looking for and an evaluation of my likes and dislikes.  

Even my church peeps are in on it.  Denise Petek may never play matchmaker in my life again.  The guy she set me up with made the comment that "short term mission trips are more like vacations" knowing I just came back from a week in El Salvador.  Deal breaker.  Dan Anthony wants a $50 Chipotle gift card if he gets me a date.  And sweet little Alice Gawel prays everyday for my left ring finger.

What really topped it off though, the cou de gra of comments was one I received recently.  "You are so pretty and have such a great personality, I don't understand why guys aren't knocking down your door."  Bleh.  What do you say?

Needless to say I started to have a pity party for myself.  The low point of my party was when I received my latest AT&T bill.  Yeah, I came home from a long day and there she was in her big square envelope, looking all innocent with her orange trim.  As I was reading her monthly assessments I quickly noticed a mistake.  An $88.71 mistake.  Normally I would sit down, read it over a couple times and perhaps even call customer service and hash it out.  But it was my pity party.  And no pity party is complete without a good cry.  Yep, I cried.  A good old-fashioned, woe-is-me-I-hate-being-single-and-having-to-deal-with-all-this-by-myself kind of cry.  Now I do have to defend myself here for uno momento.  This was also during a timeframe when I was looking to buy a new car.  So all this money stuff is floating around in my subconscious.

So I have my pity party and  try to keep it moving.

Until I can't fall asleep because Senor wants to have a chat.

What I realized from our conversation is that the term single is what I'm having an issue with.  Married people aren't referred to as "double".  The semantics are bothering me.

 If you look up the word "single" in the dictionary, the first definition given states "only one, not one of several."  That is not me.  Not the definition of Margaret.  I am definitely "one of several."  I am not alone.  I am not single.

I have a tremendous family unit.  My family is incredibly close and supportive.  I have a great group of friends and an incredible church family.  I am not single.

I found comfort in 1 Peter 5:9 "Refuse to give in to him by standing strong in your faith.  You know your Christian family all over the world is having the same kind of suffering."

I was being pursued by evil.  He was trying to take a cheap shot and hit me where it hurts. He was dancing to my cries at my pity party.  But before his celebration could continue,  my God showed up and booted him away with His words of love and promise.  

I may technically be "single" but I am assuredly "one of several."