Hey Jesus, I thought. I could really use some help right now.
I was sweating buckets; it felt like thousands of droplets were trickling down my back. I was 10 minutes early; he was 10 minutes late. I am a nervous sipper, so after 20 minutes of waiting, I’d had around five cups of coffee, which did not help my nerves or the sweat situation. Thankfully, just as I was getting up for my sixth cup, he walked in.
His name was Joshua (it wasn’t, but we’ll say it was for his privacy), and he was my very first date ever. A mutual friend had set us up, so I knew almost nothing about him. He’d looked handsome in his Facebook pictures — light, wavy hair and pretty eyes. Also, he used a lot of exclamation points and emojis in his messages, so I’d decided he was sweet.
He was handsome. Sometimes Facebook lies about these things, and I think part of me secretly hoped he’d gotten a mohawk or twenty lip piercings since his last profile picture. Going on a date with an attractive person is great, but it doesn’t do any favors for people with low self-esteem. You have a euphoric moment where you breathe out “wow,” just taking them in, knowing they’re there to see you, and then your nervous system kicks into high gear. Suddenly I was even more conscious of my sweatiness, my acne, my lankiness.
He apologized for being late and slipped into his seat. I said it was totally fine, then joked I’d had more time to indulge my caffeine addiction. As he excused himself to order, I felt myself sinking inside; a lot was going on in my head. How can I escape from this? This is torturous. Why did I drink five cups of coffee? Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
When he came back and sat down, there was a stretch of awkward silence. I had read a WikiHow article called something like “How to Have an Amazing First Date” the night before to prepare. Tips like “ask questions” and “don’t talk exclusively about yourself” were restated in different ways over and over again. So I took a breath to clear my head and started asking questions.
We were both gay and we were both Christians, but that’s where our similarities ended. Joshua was passionate about things like veganism, edgy music and classic novels. After listening to him gush about his all-time favorite protests and concerts, after realizing the closest thing I’d had to an “enlightening musical experience” was the moment I discovered One Direction, I realized how different we were as people. Before I could share that, though, the conversation took a turn.
Within the first half hour, Joshua revealed that he wasn’t out of the closet to his family and most of his social network. He had ended an emotionally abusive relationship two weeks ago, and he didn’t actually think he was ready to be with someone. As he got more and more worked up, I stopped thinking of our time together as a date and focused on helping him sort through his feelings and thoughts. About an hour later, he’d calmed down a bit and we were actually laughing. I decided it was safe to ask him something that had been bothering me the whole date.
“Joshua, why did you go on a date with me?” I asked. “I mean, you just got out of a terrible relationship, no one in your family knows... why did you do this?”
He was silent for a while, staring at his empty coffee cup. “You never see other gay Christians,” he finally said. “You never really encounter them. They aren’t out or they aren’t comfortable with their sexuality... When I saw on your Facebook that you were gay and a Christian, I thought I couldn’t pass this up.”
I felt that same sinking feeling as before, but for very different reasons.
The rest of the date went alright. We small-talked some, but after about 10 minutes, Joshua said he had to go. I think he felt uncomfortable with how vulnerable he’d been. He said we should get together again sometime, then left. I stayed at the coffee shop for a while, thinking about what had happened. I wasn’t panicky anymore; I was starting to crash from the caffeine.
As I sat in the booth, fiddling with my empty cup, I realized there had been another layer to my first date anxiety. Subconsciously, I’d been thinking the same way Joshua had. When you’re 17 and the only gay people you know are the three gay kids at your high school, your worldview is pretty small. Still, I knew only about one in 100 men were gay. What portion of those gay men were Christians? What portion of those gay Christians were interested in me? It didn’t matter how much we had in common or how attracted we were to each other; Joshua and I had to try because God had given us our 1 in 1000, and who were we to reject His choice?
But after seeing that idea reflected back at me in Joshua’s words, I realized how inaccurate it was, how misguided and bizarre. I decided then and there never to date someone solely because they are a gay Christian, never to date someone solely out of loneliness, never to settle for someone before it’s “too late.” I decided to date Christians — and non-Christians — who I felt a connection with, to trust God to guide me to the right person. And I decided if I was never meant to be with someone, I would be okay with that. There was more to life than romance, more joy in existence than finding “the one.”
Hey Jesus, I prayed, sitting in that coffee shop. I trust you. Whatever happens, I’m okay with it. Guide me to “the one” or don’t. But never let me settle for someone. Never let me get so lonely that I maintain a relationship out of fear, and not love. Amen.
