if the shoes don't fit

[Readers, I exclusively shop online for clothing. In addition to this, I rarely (if ever) purchase new clothing; I prefer previously-owned stuff. Make of that what you will; it's essential for the following story.]

 

A pair of shoes I'd long desired once came across my feed. It was as though the heavens opened when I saw they were available.

Was the pair in my size? YES. 

Was the price reasonable? YES. 

Did the seller include a picture of the soles (I check tread wear before buying)? YES. 

Were the shoes void of obvious gouges and/or damages? YES.

 

From viewing the listing, these shoes met my hopes for what I wanted. So, I purchased them. 

 

Oh goodness, they looked sharp when I opened the package. Wore them to work, happy to find shoes that looked decent. But as I walked around that day, I noticed they began rubbing savagely against my heels. Blisters formed. "That's not good," I thought.

 

So I took the shoes to get professionally stretched (more on this below). Paid $20, and went to pick them up one week later. Sometimes this intervention works! I wanted them to fit. 

 

But it didn't work this time. To continue to wear these shoes would perpetually blister my heels. I couldn't walk normal while wearing those shoes. So they don't work for me.

 

This can also apply to relationships. Someone may -- at first impression -- look as though they have what you look for in a companion.

 

Similar values? YES.

Easy to talk with? YES. 

Easy on the eyes? YES.

Interested in you? YES. 

 

So you settle in to a relationship. 

It's cool at first, or maybe even for awhile. 

But eventually, cracks start to show. The friction starts to cause some blisters.

 

They almost always resist accepting any blame for how they contributed to a problem. Or they expect you to read their mind to detect what's bothering them, instead of them just verbalizing their perceptions. Or they're often inconsiderate of your time and commitments. Or they continually cancel last-minute. Or they're slow to de-prioritize contact with previous relationship partners. Or they treat your stuff they borrow (clothes, a car, technology) with a lack of care. Or they constantly push your stated boundaries. Or you end up getting dragged into much arguing over inconsequential, little things.

And maybe you've heard that relationships take hard work, and you think "Well, learning to accept with this sort of behavior could be part of what it means that relationships can be hard work, I guess."

 

Perhaps. 

 

But another principle exists when it comes to dating: you will get what you tolerate. 

 

If there's some way your partner tends to responds to you or treats you that doesn't sit well with you, it's wise to address it early (and by 'address it', I mean initiating a talk with the other person where you're respectful, clear, and proportional to the situation). Otherwise, the pattern will continue. A weed left alone continues to grow in a garden. A shoe too tight on a foot continues to blister.

 

This doesn't necessarily mean ending the relationship with the person over these issues. Nor does it mean making an issue out of every annoyance. But it does mean being clear about addressing problematic patterns of relating.

 

The nice part about respectfully, consistently standing up for yourself is that it helps you repel selfish people. It also motivates inattentive, poorly-disciplined people to grow in consideration for others.

There's a version of you that's both your best and your most truthful. It's the version of you that shows itself when you're in the places and around the people where you feel safest. And there's a way that the people that love you the most influence you to be a better person while also genuinely, unconditionally enjoying who you are in the present. You basically want that sort of vibe in a relationship too -- someone who wants you as you are, and who wants to help you grow but they're not necessarily the teacher.

 

(And, don't be someone you're not to gain someone's love. More on that at another time.)

 

I tried on another pair of shoes that I liked. 

 

They didn't fit quite right either. 

 

I considered my options, then purchased sole inserts to see if that'd alleviate the problem. It did! Now I can walk in them without issue. A chance to adapt worked out nicely. This too can apply to relationships.

  

 

 

How to Stretch Shoes for a Perfect Fit 

 

a la carté kills

How I learned a valuable lesson about self-respect, dating, and relationships.

When I was in college (or shortly thereafter), this girl and I developed a friendship that, through time and conversations, became more. Talking with her on the phone once or twice a week morphed into talking on the phone every single night (this was before text messaging was a thing).

Texting on these phones took commitment.

 

We lived in different cities, but within easy driving distance. We'd confide about our life hopes, dreams, funny stories, day-to-day details, worries. We'd known each other for years, knew we had similar values and beliefs. We became each others closest emotional supports. 

 

It didn't take much for my heart to want more. She told me I was the best, someone she could trust ... someone she loved. "Wow," I thought. "This seems so good!"

 

And it was so good ... save for one detail.

She had a boyfriend. 

Of him she didn't speak much. 

 

What she did share with me: she knew they could never work out long-term. He wasn't much for meaningful conversation. He wasn't what she sought for her future. How she had all this time to talk with me while dating someone else, I couldn't figure. This unspoken question rattled around my skull: "then whyyyyy are you still with him?"

 

In my uncertainty, I never asked this question. I reasoned that if I showed myself to be an obvious step up, that she'd ditch her boyfriend.  Then, we could continue what we'd started.

 

So I kept on, with allowing myself to grow closer. Talking, sharing life, sharing laughs, sharing dreams. We poured more of our hearts out onto one another. I did my best to ignore the pesky "one detail" (that annoyingly remained a detail). Sooner ... or later, I reasoned, she'd end it with him if I kept giving pieces of my time, energy, my heart. 

How could I have believed this would work? I don't think hindsight is always 20/20 ... but hindsight can offer clarity and perspective.

Thank God for friends who love us enough to tell us the truth. 

 

Thank God for friends who love us enough to say hard truths we must hear. 

 

My best friend Matt's wife was (and is) wise beyond her years. In talking with them about this conundrum, and my hopes for how this would work out, she leveled me with a perspective I hadn't yet heard.

"You are a la carté-ing yourself," she told me. "You should not do this. You're gonna get hurt."

"A la carté-ing ... myself?? What does that mean?" I knew what 'a la carté' meant: it's a term often used at restaurants. It refers to a menu or list of items that can be ordered separately, rather than altogether. I hadn't yet heard it about dating, or relationships.

 

"Here's what I mean," she replied. "Right now, you're offering pieces of yourself, in hopes that she'll end up wanting more. But that's not how it should be. God made us to be loved completely, not piecemeal. None of us as whole people are ever too much for one person. Someone should either get all of you, or none of you. That's self-respect. As it stands, she's got you for emotional support and camaraderie, but then there's this boyfriend who's somehow still in the picture. Why would she commit to wanting all of you, and ditching this other dude, if you're offering just parts of you? Don't devalue yourself, do not a la carté yourself. Connection without commitment is not stable, and you're gonna get hurt."

This perspective changed my life, y'all. I'd never heard this from the vantage point of standing up for myself and my worth in an appropriate, respectful, and resolute manner.

It's been more than two decades since I heard this. I share this wisdom a few times a year with people in similar scenarios, and it's absolutely right. If it's true for me, it's gotta be true for you as well.

Don't offer a la carté versions of yourself when it comes to dating relationships.

You're worth way more than that.

things fall apart

When I started college, I was trying to make a long-distance relationship work. For me, that meant I was at college only physically, and barely mentally. My energy, focus, and heart remained where I had been, working to maintain what was.

During a public speaking course that first semester, a classmate gave a speech on the shakiness of long-distance dating.  I still remember her words: "Presents aren't promises, and kisses aren't contracts." At the time, I brushed this off as pessimism. The presents in MY room told a different story, I assured myself. The letters I received, and mailed back home only strengthened this resolve.

It'll be no surprise to share that my long-distance relationship didn't pan out -- didn't even last the entire first semester. It devastated me the Tuesday night we broke up. I wondered why this had to happen, asked God WHY ME. I was heartbroken, angry, confused, strung out.

I called my parents. I called my friends. I took a long walk. I cried myself to sleep. Focusing on schoolwork took so so so much more effort.

Fear of the unknown can slyly motivate us to hedge our bets. I'd never before experienced such a life change as transitioning to college. I felt apprehensive about making new friends, joining clubs, or embracing the unknown. It seemed like everyone was adjusting way easier than me.

So rather than make new friends or try new experiences, I spent nights alone in my room, counting down the hours and days until I could return home to see her. I hunkered away, and hustled to keep up with had been more familiar. My new life kinda scared me.

For me, coming to college while dating someone from home was *a way* to deal with the angst unknown of starting college (it's of course not that way for everyone, but it certainly was for me ... and maybe for some of you too). 

[For the record, one of my best friends did marry his high school sweetheart -- but their journey followed no linear path. They dated in high school, broke up before college, went to different schools, lost contact with each other, then randomly reconnected at the tail end of college, and got married later. They didn't plan it out, but it is what happened, and they remain happily married]

Sometimes, when God suggests or compels us to let go of cherished parts of our life, it's to make room for what's to come. Baby teeth must first fall out of the mouth before adult teeth take their place. It can feel wrenching to have to let go, and even more agonizing when the letting go isn't what we'd choose -- or how we'd choose it.

In the short run, it was a long, awful night to endure when it it fell apart.

And yet. 

It pushed me forward and forced me to connect in the present place where I was living, and not where I didn't live anymore. The best parts of that year at school for me all came after that relationship ended. In the long run (and even in the short run), it turned out more than fine.

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose." -J. Elliot