Another brave man has replied...

...to my previous post, Dear-Single-Man-Who-I-Like. I so appreciate these guys joining in the conversation and sharing their side of the whole muddle us single folk get ourselves into when we fancy someone who's already a good friend.  This particular brave man would like to be anonymous, but I know he'll see I've posted this, and so to him I say a profound 'thank you'.  Here's his reply:

Dear Girl-Who-I-Quite-Like-But-I-Think-Might-Not-Feel-The-Same,

Here we are again, having coffee. I do think you’re amazing, but I’m afraid to say it to you in case you just laugh, or it gets really weird and this will be the last time I’ll see you. What would I say anyway? I used to be confident, knew what to say, but life has squashed a bit of that out of me.

You see, it’s Northern Ireland, and I’m divorced. Most of my friends don’t care, to them it doesn’t matter, and they can’t understand why I got married in the first place. But it mattered to me, because I believe that God’s plan for marriage is the perfect plan, the best way to bring children into the world and to nurture them. Except in my case it didn’t work the way I dreamed it would, that two people would become one unit, to the exclusion of all others, I didn’t believe that so much pain and suffering could have been unleashed into my world by a person I thought I knew who turned out to be someone else, and capable of such betrayal.

But that was so long ago, and God has been so good, has healed those wounds and taught me so much about me, and about life. And about forgiveness, both mine of others, and his forgiveness for me.

I’ve been on my own for quite a while now. I tried dating again a few years ago, had a few shortish relationships, but I was too raw, too scared of being hurt again, so eventually I called out to God, asked for his guidance, and felt I needed to wait. So I stopped looking for someone, spent a lot of time doing fun blokey stuff with my mates, kept busy. The busyness didn't give me time for a relationship. And allowed me to heal, or rather God healed me. But on the odd occasion where my mates were doing stuff (like spending time with their wives. Or girlfriends. Or families), I felt so lonely, a gnawing, cold loneliness. Not often, because I like motorcycles and riding motorbikes doesn’t allow you to dwell on internal angst. But when I was lonely it hurt.

I tried to find someone who shared my beliefs, in Jesus, in his goodness to us, in his forgiveness, his grace. It being Northern Ireland, I quickly found out that as a divorcee I was damaged goods in certain circles. Nice Godly girls want brand new boys, not one who's been married before.

Despite my manly joshing with the boys about not being under the thumb and being my own man, yes I would love to be married. I'd love to have someone to share my life, and to share theirs; to have someone to love, to care for, to surprise with occasional cooking exploits. Now that making fire isn’t what it used to be, the ability to fix broken things and replace headlight bulbs must be almost as good. I'd love someone to provide for - in the same way that you tell me you want a family, why is it so awful for a guy to admit that he wants to provide for that family? When that is taken from us, it leaves us feeling emasculated and useless, and I’ve seen it many times.

So, why do I meet you for coffee? Sometimes it’s because I really value your friendship, enjoy your company, I'm eager to hear your opinions. Sometimes it’s because I really like you, love your smile, your nose, the curve of your cheek, your laugh, the sound of your voice. Sometimes it’s because I can see you’re really hurting and I know in an hour or two you’ll tell me about the stuff you can’t tell your other friends because you know I’ll never breathe a word of it to another living soul. Sometimes it’s because I need someone to listen, because the hurt or panic or fear or loneliness is there. I’ve got some really good mates, but two lads sitting together deep in conversation in a quiet restaurant isn’t conducive to either party being entirely comfortable!

So why is it that I find myself tongue tied and awkward, despite have had the best part of a couple of decades to perfect my lines since I first rushed headlong into a potential lifetime relationship? I think it’s because I care about you, value you, and I don’t want to spoil things, make you uncomfortable. I’m scared that I’ll screw things up; that you’ll think I’m some sort of desperado and never want to see me again.

That, and the fact that I obviously have no idea about what you’re thinking.

Yours,
Single-Man-Who-You-Like

PS Yes, I know about pain at church services, maybe different to yours, but sometimes I wonder, Father’s Day???? A day for the Coast Road on the motorbike methinks.

PPS Also I'm truly sorry about the times I've mysteriously disappeared from your life.

PPPS And finally, thank you to all my married friends who think I should join an online dating service to find someone "before it’s too late". I do appreciate your vote of confidence! ;)