David McElroy

All my life, I’ve been in search of the ideal. Perfect people. Flawless performances. And a perfect romantic partner.

I wouldn’t have admitted this for a long time, mostly because I didn’t realize it. I told myself I had high standards — for myself and others — but I didn’t understand for years how much I was communicating my disapproval to others. I didn’t realize that I was silently telling others, “You’re not good enough for me.”

I had a long conversation late Saturday night with a woman who I used to spend a lot of time with. We were friends, but we never had a romantic relationship. When something came up about the fact we had never dated, she told me something surprising.

“I didn’t think I would ever be what you wanted in a woman,” she said. “You told me all the things you were looking for — and I didn’t think I’d ever be good enough for your standards.”

Was she right? Have I been focused on an unattainable ideal? Someone who doesn’t exist? Am I alone because I wouldn’t accept “almost perfect” when I had the chance?

Keep Reading

All I want and all I need
Is someone who believes in me.
— Reese Roper, “Suckerpunch”

I’ve never felt as loved and understood as I felt when I read her email that night.

It was years ago, and I hadn’t thought about what she wrote for a very long time. I thought the memory was safely packed away in my unconscious — in a box marked, “Dangerous: Do not open.”

The box opened all by itself late Friday night and memories came tumbling out. I have no idea why. I can’t explain it. But for the last 24 hours or so, I’ve been filled with memories of feelings which are awful and terrible and painful — but also sweet and loving and healing.

I honestly can’t say whether this is good or bad. I just know the memories hurt my heart, but they also remind me so much of what I long to feel again.

Keep Reading

It’s another door slammed and bolted
It’s one more window locked
You were on your way back home and now you’re not
— Terry Scott Taylor, “I Plan, God Laughs”

When I was 24, I had a plan for my life. I knew exactly where I was going. What I was going to do. Who I was going to become. Then I changed. My life changed. I threw that plan away.

By the time I was about 28, I had a completely different plan. It was so clear and simple. But things went in a different direction. I learned more about myself — and then another plan was tossed.

Things were radically different by the time I was 32, then took another unexpected turn when I hit 40.

How many plans have I had? At least half a dozen major plans, maybe more. But I keep changing. And when I change, I find that the things which seemed so important before can seem more like grim jokes. The goal I had wanted seems pointless. The woman I had loved with all my heart is worth nothing to me.

My plans have involved careers, romantic partners and dreams of fame and power. There’ve been visions of money and success and art and love. Especially love. But every time I make a plan, God seems to laugh gently at me, because I can’t see what’s coming.

I keep changing. Unexpected things keep happening. And then my old plans seem laughable and naive. That seems to be happening once more.

Keep Reading