I was “sweet sixteen and never been kissed” and it mortified me.
At that point, all of my friends had been to homecoming dances, on group dates, or even coveted one on one dates. Some of them shared stolen kisses with boys after school, others had sweet good night kisses on the porch with their parents watching through a window.
They were living the typical teenage fairytale.
And I was cognizant of being left out for the first time.
When I was eighteen, I asked a friend to be my prom date. We had a great time, but no love connection.
When I was twenty, I watched all my friends get asked to fraternity formals. Sure I took dates to my own sorority events, but again, they were friends. I had my first kiss somewhere in there, but never went out with the boy again.
Those are hard years to not be singled out by a fellah and it took me a long time to realize that I had little scars on my heart, as a result.
During a deep talk with another single friend, she was able to verbalize something I never really knew I thought…not being picked makes you feel unloveable and unattractive.
I’m 36 years old and no, I don’t think I’m ugly. I have a healthy sense of self and know my strengths and weaknesses.
BUT, there is also a deep dark smidgeon of irrational sin in my heart that whispers: you’re single because you’re ugly, otherwise you would have been married by now.
And I hate it.
I hate that the confident woman in me also seeks to be valued by a man.
I hate that I’ve given the Enemy a foothold into my heart.
And I hate that other women (or men!) might feel this way, too.