Being single is always hardest after 11:00 p.m., regardless of your creed. Especially on a Saturday.
I “played eyes” with a guy in a local coffee shop between smatterings of conversation with a good friend for half an hour this evening. And I thought, “Why do these things never go anywhere?” I’m having a bad hair week and my eyes look tired–as tired as I feel. Some days being single feels as pathetic as a Grade B chick flick.
Still, it’s Advent. The usual hope is augmented by the hope that’s part and parcel of this season. You breathe it in the early winter air and see it in the friendly winking of the neighbors’ Christmas lights. Something is coming. HE is coming.
I’m about to drag my weary, single, moping self to bed, and I go in hope. Christ is coming; why should our hearts not dance?