"...cuz flame and moth got a sweetheart deal..."

I had posted earlier. False poetic bravado that suffered from being not only shallow sentiment, but bad poetry, to boot. So I took that one off.

I have a hard time writing about anything emotionally-focused without drifting into a melancholic or self-pitying tone. If you read my work here, you know it well. Well, I'm going to work hard to avoid that today. (I'll try, anyway.) But I feel like some kind of reflection is in order. So brace yourself.

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One month after we broke up, one month exactly, was Valentine's Day. I went to Bennigan's and moped over a Kilkenny Country Fried Chicken salad (which is usually delicious). My eyes shot daggers of hatred and envy at the couples at tables around me. Then I went to the movies, hoping for a satisfying diversion. I saw "Daredevil." Kind of capped off the crappy day.

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I have told you the story of the last time I had reason to celebrate this fabricated holiday, and what happened. No need to get into it here. Suffice to say, I was 0 for 1. Still am.

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I sent my Sunday School class an encouraging email today, with several Bible passages about the matchless love of God. I try to do encouraging things like that. Usually, the times when I try to be most encouraging to people are the times when I need it most. It's funny. I will do my very best to put up my bravest, most "together" face. I don't want to show them that I 'm struggling. Not to be a hypocrite; but to be an example. And to not lose their respect. So, maybe that is a little hypocritical. But hypocrisy for the greater good, I tell myself.

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Last year, I made CDs for the people in my class. Mix CDs of encouraging, supportive music. Songs about loving God and loving others. Good stuff. I passed them out in Sunday School, since the day fell on a Sunday.

I was up last night, trying to compile another mix CD. Fighting with my computer. Finally, in frustration and tiredness, I just gave up on the idea. I almost feel bad about this. Almost.

Funny, it's hard to believe that the CD thing is now a full year ago. Doesn't seem so long.

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I'm still on this weird kick of reading Christian dating books, gathering all the different theories, techniques, and ideas. At this point, I think it's more curiosity than a real need to know (Lord knows, I'm not finding any need to put these into practice). Last night, I finished the book, "Marriable."

I'm too tired and busy to go into a comprehensive rant right now, but suffice to say, it left me furious. Not recommended.

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I received my own copy of the film, "Elizabethtown." As I've mentioned before, I love this film. LOVE. it. It hits all the right buttons for me. I watched it on Sunday, when I was feeling a little down. I think I may pop it in again tonight, after I get back from a class event.

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So, I know I've ranted and raved about how much I enjoy the show "How I Met Your Mother" and how great it is. But last week's episode kind of took some of the romantic air out of my tires, as it were. I was excited about Ted seeking out and finding Victoria; that was cool. But last week's ep was all about how, after a first weekend of "passion," they decided to wait "a whole month" before they did the deed again. This was referred to as, "taking it slow."

I was let down. Bigtime. The focus, of course, becomes sex, not love. Not getting to know each other. This should not surprise me at all. But somehow it did. As odd as it sounds, somehow I had higher expectations for Ted (though the previous episodes actually give no basis for this expectation; quite the opposite, actually).

I had to remind myself, as much as I enjoyed watching Ted's "some enchanted evening" moment with Victoria, Ted would not make the right choice. Ted would not have learned from past mistakes. What it comes down to is, Ted is not Dave.

And not just because Ted is getting some action now.

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I don't know. A lot of Christian writers (and bloggers) are saying that romance is fake, romance is cheap, romance is not in any way Biblical. And I get that. I understand the arguments. Love that lasts, marriages that last, are not grounded upon romance, but upon God. Upon respect and communication and self-sacrifice. Not ooey-gooey feelings, butterflies, and red ribbon.

But I'm afraid that a lot of Christians will give up on it completely. Write it off as an invention of the world, a counterfeit embraced by our "wicked culture."

I don't want to give up on romance. I don't want to turn a cold shoulder to "enchanted evenings" and corny movie moments. These things need to be tempered with wisdom, absolutely, but I think they are too precious to throw out with the bathwater.

Some would say my perspective is too worldly. That I haven't matured enough as a believer to understand things fully. Maybe so. But I would almost rather experience the highs of romantic love again, and get burned by my own foolishness again, than to stay forever in the safety of its more cerebral, resigned counterpart.

Of course, I write now in abstractions. Ask me again in a year or two from today, when I (hopefully) have reason again to wear red, buy flowers, or make dinner reservations. For now, I play the "what if" scenarios. To steal a quote from the lips of Led Zepplin, "it's been a long time, been a long time, been a long lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely time."

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Have a good night. Smile like you mean it. I know I will.



"The moth don't care if the flame ain't real."