Mar 15

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Apparently I’m going to hell

Last night a man told me that I am going to hell because I haven’t accepted Jesus as my personal savior.

And thus began my re-entry into the world of socializing with the opposite sex.

Let me back up a bit and give you the context for this particular delight.

Early last summer, I was just getting to know my friend Becky. We were both single at the time. We’re both creative types that do a lot of writing. We joked about going to a speed dating event because it would give us great material to write about. Not long after that I got involved in the relationship that swiftly and firmly took me off the market.

Over the last nine months, my relationship with Becky has grown and I thank goodness for her on a regular basis.  I am so grateful that she is in my world.

About a month ago, a press release came across my desk at the newspaper for a speed dating event. Of course I forwarded it to Becky and said, “Wanna go?” She immediately emailed me back, “Definitely!”

Let me be clear – a month ago I was absolutely, positively not ready to be dating again. But I was hoping that by now I would be.

Nervous. Sad. Scared. A little excited. Sad. Scared. Nervous. My insides were tripping over themselves yesterday.

Becky and I did pep talks with each other on the car ride – this was about meeting people and having a new experience. Everyone else was as nervous as us. It was absolutely irrelevant if we met anyone we wanted to see again.

For those who are unfamiliar – at a speed dating event, there are roughly equal numbers of men and women. The women each sit at a small table and the men rotate around the room. We got five minutes to talk to each person.

The first guy who sat down at my table told me a bit of his story, and then asked a question that always makes me cringe: “So, are you a believer?” I offered what I thought was a polite response about believing strongly in my concept of God. Which apparently was not good enough, hence his assertion that I am going to hell.

(Please skip this paragraph if you’re easily offended.) I had no idea what to say to that. Today one of my colleagues offered this potential response:  “You must be really well hung, but you can’t have a penis big enough to make up for what you just said!!!”  🙂  Hee hee.

Anyway – the first several “mini-dates” were less than comfortable. But by the second half of the evening, I found that I was really enjoying talking to these men. None of them tipped my fancy as a romantic partner, but as someone to talk to for five minutes, they were quite enjoyable.

I really don’t know if I’m ready to start dating again yet. But regardless of the “dating” piece of it, I learned a lot about myself last night.

I realized that my assumption that I’m uncomfortable with new people isn’t entirely accurate. I’m not comfortable in a room full of people I don’t know who are talking to each other; but put me in a room of people I don’t know and let me talk to each one individually for a few minutes and I’m happy as a clam.

I remembered that showing up as ME in a room is pretty okay. I don’t have to put on airs or pretend to be someone I’m not. People seemed to enjoy talking to me and I enjoyed talking to them.

I remembered that it’s okay for me to feel attractive – and that I don’t need someone else to tell me that I look nice in order to feel that way.

I saw again that the kind of instant comfort, connection, and chemistry that I had in my last relationship is rare and special and should be treasured.

I realized that I’ve been missing and yearning for the validation I got in that relationship – that a part of me still really, really wants him to be proud of me. And I think he is. He’d probably even be telling me that except that he’s respecting my request to not have contact for a while. But I need to learn to not need his validation again.  I need to be giving it to myself.

So here it is – I’m proud of myself for taking a risk last night.  I’m proud of myself for having a new life experience.  I’m proud of myself for going through with it.  I’m grateful to have done it with a wonderful friend. None of the rest really matters.

Well, except for that part about going to hell.  😉


Image found here.

About the author

Leah Carey

Leah Carey is the Chief Miracle Officer of The Miracle Journal, where she writes about the large and small miracles that happen in her life every day. She is a life coach, speaker, journalist, freelance writer, and lover of life. In all of those pursuits, she works with people to identify what’s already right in your life so you can build an even more joyful and fulfilling daily experience from that foundation. You can find her on Facebook, , Twitter, and YouTube.

Permanent link to this article: https://www.leahcarey.com/themiraclejournal/2012/03/15/apparently-im-going-to-hell/


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  1. nicole@muranoplace

    this article get my attention. most of it the tittle.!!
    how do you know if your going to hell??.
    thanks for shearing this ….

  2. sheila callaham

    Don’t feel bad, Leah! Hell will be completely full of lots of your friends! 😉
    sheila callaham recently posted at their blog…Big or small, there is power in miracles!

    1. Leah Carey

      Bwaaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!!! 🙂
      Thanks Sheila! I think I’ll enjoy spending eternal damnation with you. 🙂

  3. Debra Lynn Lazar

    Thank god I don’t believe in hell (or in god, for that matter, but that’s a whole ‘nother story!). So glad you found my blog by accident so that I could find yours. Love it!

    1. Leah Carey

      Yay Debra! Another bloggy friend! I’m so glad to have met you and I look forward to reading more on your blog. 🙂

  4. Caroline72

    No one can go to hell. think positive have a good vibes. God loves you..

  5. Abdo salem

    This type of miracles is familiar between my wife and me. It seems to me that her soul is connected with the kitchen. When I enter the kitchen while her sleeping and think of something that should have been done in there next day she makes it. As she doesn’t confess these secret powers I don’t tell her about it.

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