Usually, I like to talk about the many "Why" questions I get because of my choice, but, alas, we have another type of question rearing its ugly head these days: the dreaded "What If" question.
Yesterday was a brilliant example of wanting to turn out the light, crawl under my covers, and hide. It all started with a Cowboys loss...okay, not really, I'm just being melodramatic (although I did suffer severe emotional distress due to that game...sort of...eh, I was just p'od).
The highlight of the day, however, had to be the question posed by my best friend: "What if you never find love? What will you do then?"
I felt like a dagger had gone straight through my heart...like I had just swallowed a glass of poisoned mead a la Harry Potter...like the Cowboys inexplicably decided not to take a knee before the half, coughed up the ball, and gave the Redskins their only touchdown of the game (the winning TD as it turns out)--wait, that actually happened.
I really didn't know how to answer. I was fumbling all over my words. It's not as if the thought hadn't crossed my mind; I just tend to shove it straight out of my conscious thinking.
What if I DON'T find love? Do I faux fall for faux love? Do I just give it up and get it over with? Do I stay a virgin *gulp* forever? Do I settle for almost love?
I could feel the hives wanting to sprout all over my body; the chunks began rising dangerously in my throat. Then, like an angel somewhere heard my wordless panic, a song played on the radio--a song I haven't heard in so long...a song I always associated with my papaw: Have I Told You Lately by Rod Stewart. Whenever I hear that song, I know he is with me; I know he is telling me it will be okay. I instantly calmed down. Those pesky hives never popped out and my mind peacefully landed on one very comforting thought:
**For a reason beyond knowledge, I have to believe there is a purpose to me making this choice...a purpose I cannot possibly know or see. I believe in fate (although I don't always think kindly of her--and I'm sure fate is a her...she's far too, ahem, cranky-cruel sometimes) and I believe in God. I believe they are watching over me and maybe even guiding me to him, whoever he may be.**
I reckon I'm not ready to give up on love finding me. Yet. Should I never find love, I will handle it calmly and rationally...and it will not involve a bottle of Jack or a razor. (don't be alarmed, I'm just thinking of the movie The Wedding Date; Debra Messing's character says something along those lines prior to her sister's wedding...it's a funny statement, but definitely highlights the mood).
What if I don't find love? Well, I'm just not ready to face that possibility...not yet. Nope. Not gonna think about it. Here we go...time to puuuuuush that right outta my mind...again. *Sigh*