romantic blind spot

During my Facebook days, one of my co-workers was tagging friends on an "identity" poster, one that asked her to specify which friend is best characterized by each Disney character:

Crude and immature? Yes, but isn't that the heart of Facebook fun? Having been tagged myself, I scanned across the poster, awaiting the identity that my unbelieving friend had given me. My jaw clenched and my nostrils flared as my mouse rested on an all too familiar destination.

"The One That Saves The Day"

Everyone that knows me knows that I hate this. Fell free to call me a rogue, a loner, or a thinker. Jokingly refer to me as bipolar, moody, or intense. Openly question my discontent or my random state of melancholy. I will bear no offense. Allow me to be anything but the hero.

I was driving to work a couple days ago, listening to my autumn tunes. While never one of my favorite Simon and Garfunkel songs, the following lyrics rang profoundly that cool morning:

It's a still life water color
Of a now late afternoon
As the sun shines through the curtained lace
And shadows wash the room
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference
Like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
The borders of our lives

And you read your Emily Dickinson
And I my Robert Frost
And we note our place with bookmarkers
That measure what we've lost
Like a poem poorly written
We are verses out of rhythm
Couplets out of rhyme
In syncopated time
And the dangled conversation
And the superficial sighs
Are the borders of our lives

Yes, we speak of things that matter
With words that must be said
"Can analysis be worthwhile?"
"Is the theater really dead?"
And how the room is softly faded
And I only kiss your shadow
I cannot feel your hand
You're a stranger now unto me
Lost in the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
In the borders of our lives

-- The Dangling Conversation

Whereas Simon wrote these words to describe the monotony of a deteriorating relationship, I found myself stricken with a bit of envy. I realized that for as long as I have despised the "hero" tag from women, I have never allowed myself to be anything else. I have a complete inability to engage in the small talk common with the modern couple -- the only time I have ever felt welcome or useful to a woman is when she has needed to be saved.

Let's look at my track history. I have cared for two women deeply: both under 5'0 tall, both too reckless with their hearts, both prior victims of abuse, both trying to get their spiritual lives in order after mistakes, both fully willing to let me be their perfect man...

Big problem: I couldn't save them. They were never mine to save. The minute I let down my guard, transitioning from a strong and noble god to a fractured man with emotional needs, they were finished. Sure, had I never attempted to usurp God's position, they may have never been interested in me at all. But what dysfunction would cause me to place that level of pressure on myself...or participate in that level of spiritual corruption?

I recognize that I don't trust women to love me for who I am. I will forever be incapable of the "dangling conversation," because worldly things have so little value to me. Likewise, being "The One That Saves The Day" leads me forever through a string of co-dependency. I struggle daily to ask this question, leading me to disregard her in prayer, but what is it that I want?

I want a real partner. Even as I glorify the idea in my mind, I don't want someone to simply fill space beside me. I desire a woman who will minister with me, worship with me, raise children with me, and never grow tired of speaking of the things of God, because these are the only things that truly interest me. And while I feel as if I must continuously dig for other worldly things to break the ice with 21st century women, I know that this is no way to begin a righteous relationship. If "we speak of things that matter," and it doesn't involve Christ or our mutual pursuit of Him, I'll feel like I'm wasting my time.

And I'll be perfectly honest, I don't know if what I want exists.