Update time – last week saw me meet up with yet another Catholic woman from ol’ CatholicMatch. (That would make her attempt #4 this year). Nice and local this time in Leeds.
Pros – attractive (but in a very different way), good conversationalist, sarcastic wit, very intelligent, keen sense of compassion and apparently a fascination with the darker side of humanity stemmed from a firmly-rooted soul in its good side (like me!)
Cons – a bit low-key on expression and reactions so is hard to read, not as small as expected (though perhaps my own height stats are off) and would appear to be atrocious with messaging/keeping contact.
That last one, in fact, the worst yet! CatholicMatch comms were good – light-hearted with a few jokes. Then, we moved to WhatsApp and the chat was more like arranging a business meeting… But when we did meet, it was decent – in my mind, more than meriting a second outing. I’ve since suggested such, and haven’t even been outrightly rejected! I’ve just been casually ignored… It’s been 4 or so days now. Current game plan involves a little guilt-trip message tomorrow methinks.
Now, to the title of the post. I’ve become recently aware, like the old fictitious and mad sailor, I’m caught by an obsession. My mind is only concerned with one thing and pretty much bugger all can distract it from that path. As any great piece of similar literature can show, an unhealthy state of mind to be enslaved to.
And yet, horribly, I feel justified in my obsession. This is no revenge trip. St. Paul is a favourite saint of mine (he’s got a Malta link), he speaks plainly and harshly and like me, he realised his vocation in an event of suffering and doggedly pursued it, as he believed his course was set.
Ditto. God saw fit to make/allow/accept me experiencing the potential fulfilment of my supposed vocation (marriage). In doing so, He confirmed that vocation I had too long suspected. How can I not now doggedly pursue it? I have no relief. I have no soothing balm. Prayer is my only plaster and the hope of ordained grace.
Every time it feels like something good and joyous may be about to start, something goes wrong and it all breaks down again. Like I’ve mentioned in previous posts, the worst part about that is it keeps highlighting 2017’s first and most successful (and most disastrous) romantic attempt. The more I endeavour to replace it/her with healing positivity, the more I’m reminded with torturous negativity how I lost something so wholesome through no fault of my own.
At the moment, the big picture is slightly healthier than it was over summer. Back then, it was all rage-filled with much of my anger misplaced at God himself. Now, it feels more like I can sense Him answering my prayers (which should make me supremely joyful), but then a human steps in mentally or physically and ruins His plans somehow. So, it’s all a bit bizarre really.
I will update with if my Leeds lass amounts to anything or if Catholic Date #4 was yet another failure!
‘Til the next time.