This post is mix of a diet and a dating story, so it’s kind of all over the place, but it’s my blog, I can do what I want. Love you all!
Monday: Morning of Day 6 went great. I felt great and, despite not grocery shopping like I should have on Sunday, I still had eggs and Whole30 compliant bacon to tide me over until I got to the store.
Willpower is a muscle and the more you use it, the stronger it gets (or so I keep telling myself).
That night I had my second date with Monday guy. He invited me to Latin mass and dinner. I’d heard of these masses before but had never had the chance to go, so I thought, why not? Word of advice: even if both of you are Catholic, don’t go to mass on your second date. I thought it was really cool that we had this in common and would be able to do that together. Eventually. However, I am well aware that a first-timer at a Catholic mass can be completely weirded out with all the kneeling, praying and chanting in unison, but the latin mass, even for this old-timer was… weird. To say the least. I didn’t understand a word of it, the priest kept his back to the congregation the entire time, and Monday guy kept making the sign of the cross and reading silently to himself (except I could hear him).
I’m not sure if he was doing all this because he thought it would impress me (“See? I really am Catholic!!”), but the dude has only recently converted to Catholicism and these are things people who have grown up in the church don’t even do (although there are still some who do). I do go to church and am close to my priest, but I like to think of myself as more of a modern Catholic… I take birth control, I hate confession and only go when my mom makes me at Christmastime, and I have my own personal relationship with God. (Which is why I hate confession. Gone are the days of thinking one can only speak to God through a priest. He knows what I’ve done, no need to spill it to anyone who will listen.) Clearly Monday guy was much more serious about the specifics of the mass than I am, and I have to say it freaked me out a little.
Not to mention I did not feel anything for him when I saw him. Not at all, actually. Which sucked because we had a ton of things in common (he is Catholic, after all), he was tall (6’5″), and had his shit together (working on his PhD). Also handsome. Oh, and did I mention he had a background in counseling?! Which means he probably had the patience to handle all my stupid emotional issues that crop up every time I’m in a relationship as well. He was basically everything I’d been praying for. I knew he could have taken care of me if I had let him. And he seemed to want to. I could tell that he liked me, but I just couldn’t make myself attracted to him. Or make myself feel anything about him one way or the other. But honestly, I was hoping (actually praying) that would change once we got to dinner and could talk to each other.
But when we went to dinner after mass, the conversation was still boring. Then he told me he was nervous, and that’s when I knew I needed to call it because I wasn’t nervous at all. All I could really think about was how it was still early enough for me to get groceries if we got the check soon and how proud I was of the fact that I’d had nothing to eat that was not Whole30 compliant (yay, fajitas! … or should I say cooked veggies with no rice, beans or tortillas).
And right about that time, I knew God was throwing his hands up in the air and yelling, “That was the guy, Emily!! That was the. guy you dumbass!!” and wondering what he’s going to do with me. I’m going to be single forever, God. That’s what’s going to happen. We should both just accept it now. Probably.
So, I’ve got over a week in the books, and I feel better than ever. Despite possibly losing my soulmate in the process.