I’ve had a slight crush on the single guy in a Christian musical group for a while now. This group visits my church yearly, and so I’ve become a bit of a fan. I think the crush really started when I checked out their website, and his profile cracked me up. He was able to laugh at himself and use sarcasm well, and that’s a huge positive in my book. Plus there was the music factor. Not only does he sing in the group—he is the main musician. He plays the piano extraordinarily well and also works the keyboards, etc. So needless to say, he’s very talented.
Well, this past weekend was their annual visit to my church. And this time, the group had some news about the single guy’s marital status. He had recently gotten engaged. I was happy for him and even happier for the girl now sporting a ring, but I’d be lying if I denied the little inward sighing on my part. Now this crush, like almost all of my crushes of the past was just that—a crush. This was no burgeoning romance, no broken heart, no tears or resentment.
As I drove home that night from the concert, I started laughing at myself. What was that sigh for? It wasn’t like I had thought of him more than twice in the past year. How would my life be different now that I knew he was engaged? It wouldn’t be. Would there be anything missing from my life? No. It wasn’t as if we’d been corresponding or communicating in anyway. We’re strangers to one another.
Fact is I’m a chronic dreamer, and I tend to imagine even after a brief meeting what it would be like to get to know someone better. A random act of kindness or a chance encounter has me pondering the what-ifs for hours. Spending an hour in conversation with someone I find mentally stimulating has me curiously distracted as I contemplate how to arrange a second meeting. More than once or twice A WEEK, I contemplate what life would be life with that man, this other man or that guy over there.
I’m fickle. There is no consistency in my day dreams. It’s not that all of these men are blonde or tall. There’s no special attribute that all of these men have in common really either—with the exception that there was something about them that intrigued me.
Well, this past Sunday night as I drove home after the concert, there was one thing that I realized about my day dreams that I think is harmful. This musician I thought rather remarkable has a life on the road probably 40 out of 52 weeks a year. I was imagining how fun it would be to travel on tour with the group. Well, the truth is that one of us is home 40 out of 52 weekends in a year, and while touring might have some glamorous appeal, I’d probably prefer to be home in my own space rather than on a cramped tour bus any day. I’m not the type of person that would want to be put on the spot or brought out from the shadows on display as the group traveled from church to church either. I’m a behind the scenes person. I wouldn't like life on the road, and I'd definitely not be a trophy wife.
And what about all the others I’ve daydreamed about in the past? The same is true. See, I tend to imagine my life in their world as if a relationship was a way to escape my own world. I’ve been picturing me in their lives, but I can’t really imagine them in mine, which is rather ironic. It seems to me that THAT would be something that would need to be a match! What is so wrong with my own life that I feel I need to move on to another life rather than looking for someone to share the life that I’m living?
Something is wrong with that picture…
No comments:
Post a Comment