Well, friends, it has been awhile.

Eight years and four months later, what’s changed?

Well, a lot.

And I. Am. Exhausted…

I’ve learned what I already knew so well… God’s plans are often not our own.

I’ve worked harder (and longer hours) than anyone else I know.

I started a business… something I never thought I’d do.

I’ve prioritized countless other families over myself… to the point that I am now having to learn how to draw boundaries… to build walls.

I do, of course, recognize the irony in this. That someone who spent a lifetime building walls prior to Jesus (and still struggles, at times, to tear them down) is now having to learn to build them? Ugh. Doesn’t that just *sound* exhausting?

I’ve worshipped at the altar of being needed—realizing I find identity, worth, and value in being of service and help to others. Exhausting.

I’m nowhere near as intimately acquainted with my church family as I used to be. Partially because of my work schedule (all the hours of all the days leaves limited time for much else), and partially because I feel no safe harbor there as of late (my fault, I am certain).

I consistently find myself on the defensive there. Feeling alienated, misunderstood, and “other than”—there are practically no single women, much less women who own businesses, much less *single* women who own businesses. Feeling obliged to justify myself when asked in a seemingly scolding manner about where I’ve been and the how, what, when, why, and where of my work. People just don’t understand. (And perhaps I’m projecting my own scolding of myself concerning my disconnectedness?)

My mom and others have been telling me that perhaps I should find a new church home. My only response? “But that would be like tearing my right arm off.”

I also see that choosing to be there for so many other families meant that I could *not* be there for others in my church body consistently. But, I thought at the time, “We have the fullness of the Body—many others to help meet needs and fill gaps.”

I still did try at intervals. To serve. To be present. To engage. Eventually, however, I got to the point where the thought of having to apologize to just one more person for not being able to be at their event—or accidentally sleeping through my alarms (YES, PLURAL) and missing our time together—made me want to simply keel over and die. I’ve been so exhausted. So weary. For so many years. And how do you help someone to feel the weight of truth in your words when you tell them that you are exhausted beyond what is fathomable and you are doing your best given your current circumstances?

And, what’s more, I’ve actually gotten back to a point in my life where I have begun to want companionship. Partnership. Intimacy. Another thing I never thought I’d do. (Ha!)

Admittedly, this wanting is very likely related to the lack in my current degree of intimacy with the Lord and my church family. But it is a wanting, nonetheless.

And so, I did what most single people do at this age when they have no prospect of meeting a single peer in real life (remember, my church body is 99.998% married and I work with families, so… no prospects): I went online.

::Cue the horrifying and dramatic, “I just revealed something shocking and terrifying!” sound effect here.::

I joined eHarmony last year. And, well, it turned out horribly. I talked and met with someone for a very brief period of time before seeing some red flags related to his temper and his responses to things not going his way. When I told him I didn’t think it would be wise to move forward, things took a frightening turn. A fist fight (not involving me, mind you), scary messages and voicemails, and many nights of checking around my parking lot prior to getting out of the car ensued. I, foolishly, was afraid to tell anyone what was going on because I was afraid things would escalate. I felt I was being held hostage, in a way. And—to top off the bizarre turn—he was engaged to someone else within a month (while still sending messages to me). I begged eHarmony to delete my account.

About a year later, I joined eHarmony again, thinking of all the wonderful couples I know who met through the site. I also joined Christian Mingle. And Hinge. And Facebook Dating. (I know, it’s awful. I figured I’d cast a wide net, however, seeing as most single men out there currently don’t amount to much in terms of valid marriage potential. And you can get snarky about that “don’t amount to much” comment if you want, but truly the tweets and Buzzfeed articles touting how awful interactions with single men are these days are *NOT* an exaggeration and are *NOT* rare hiccups.)

Well, let me tell you, folks, the verdict is in: The world of online dating is one massive, raging dumpster fire.

You would not *believe* the encounters I’ve had or the things men have said to me. Or, if you are a part of the online dating populace, you totally might.

I have, for example, actually had a guy say to me, “If you want to be with a good man of God, you’ll send me some pictures.” He was *not* talking about innocent selfies.

Observe, if you will, just a few recent exchanges with some men who reached out via these apps and sites:

This guy “Liked” me on Facebook Dating, then initiated a conversation with me. This is how it played out:

Well, at least he was short and to the point. 😄😆

Then there’s this guy, whose profile said he was a born again Christian who wanted to submit every part of his life to the Lord and that walking in obedience was of utmost importance to him. I asked him about physical purity. His response?

He said he couldn’t wait *too* long to have sex because it would be too hard. Then he shared the above statement. Yes, because testosterone completely nullifies the need to practice self control. Dear. Lord. Smh.

And then, let’s not forget the guy who said the same things about his walk with the Lord, then told me he had recently had sex in a Target dressing room and asked if I would do something like that. When I told him I was a virgin and that physical purity is a heart/faith/obedience issue that should also be submitted to the Lord, this was his response:

Yep. This is what’s out there folks.

And so, I say again, I. Am. Exhausted.

And what a strange and bizarre thing to be here—in this—when all of the students I used to mentor are married with children. And students I used to tutor are getting engaged and married and having children.

What a very strange life this is, that of single older woman.

To be a woman is exhausting. To be a single woman is exhausting. To be a single Christian woman, perhaps even more exhausting. But to be a single Christian woman who owns a business in the field of education? That, my friends, is perhaps the most exhausting of all.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a nap…