Page 2 of London, Love, & A Little Something Irish

But here’s what I don’t talk about much: thegnawing guilt that I eventhoughtabout compromising my values for a boy who wouldn’t have done the same for me. I remember sitting alone in my room after that breakup, wondering if I was the one being unreasonable. Maybe Iwastoo much of a goodie-two-shoes. Too rigid, too demanding. Maybe asking for a man who shared my faith and wanted to wait wasn’t just rare; maybe it was impossible.

But deep down, I knew that wasn’t true. I knew God wouldn’t put those convictions in my heart just to leave me empty-handed. And I knew settling for a love that required me to be less of myself wasn’t the kind of love I wanted.

Still… the disappointment stayed. The fear stayed.

“I loved the way he made me feel. The aching after he ended things was hard,” I go on. “I remember months later making myself write a list of what I wanted in a man. And he didn’t fit all of them. He barely fit half of them.”

Joy laughs, reaching for her lip gloss. “I think you were just blinded by his muscles.”

I laugh too. “Girl, did you see them though? I think I drooled. Just a little. Or a lot.”

“And what does he have to do with Joel?” She eyes me as she puts down her lip gloss.

I grab my hairbrush, brushing through the ends of my curls. “I’m just thinking about the contrast between the two. Joel and I are so new right now.”

Maybe that’s part of why I’m here now, with another J. Because Joel checks at least one of the most important boxes: he loves Jesus. And after everything I’ve been through, that feels like enough of a reason to give this a shot.

He doesn’t make my knees weak, but he’s Christian. It’s the main reason I’ve allowed myself to explore more with Joel. After dating so many guys (again, not THAT many, I know that makes me sound like I date a new guy every week, but more than 2 or 3 is many in my books) that just couldn’t understand the fact that my faith is important to me, it’s refreshing to finally date someone that understands my faith. I’mfinallyunderstood inthat and not feeling completely ostracized. (Which also makes me think of ostriches, ironically—alone, head in the sand. Same vibe.)

He has some other good traits, too. He’s charming with his words. And we’re having fun. It’s casual at the moment. But even that word,casual,feels off. Because I’ve never been a casual kind of girl. I’m all in or all out, and I’m not sure where I stand with him. The relationship started off with mixed signals. Lots of flirting, then pulling back. But my always-wanting-to-be-liked nature wanted to win him over.

I get it. It sounds ridiculous. Me, a hopeless romantic, not pursued by a man. Eventually—with a lot of internal conflict and back-and-forth from him may I add—he decided hedidlike me, and here we are. Brand new. I know, it really does sound like every romcom trope:Boy meets girl. Boy never knows if he really likes her. Boy and girl date.I roll my eyes at the thought.

I head quickly into the bathroom, bringing my clothes in with me to change for tonight’s outfit.

Which brings us to tonight: New Year’s Eve at church. Big Grease-themed bash. (I’ve never seen the movie, don’t judge.) I won the £35 ticket in an Instagram competition because I’m an overachiever who did two different 50s-themed outfits. And I had to do a video introducing myself as the winner, which got passed around our church’s WhatsApp group. Casual.

I’m going dressed as Sandy: black leggings, off-the-shoulder top, heels. My long brown hair has some volume when we visit other countries or go back home to Atlanta, but London’s humidity is its nemesis. I’ve settled for semi-straight hair with curled ends tonight.

“I guess it’s different with Joel,” I say from behind the bathroom door, pausing between grunts as I wrestle with my leggings. “It’s nothing like it was with my ex. And honestly? That’s already a big deal, considering my track record. There’s no massive spark, no fireworks… just kindling. A slow burn.”

I’m new to London, and finding meaningful friendships in a bigchurch takes effort. I went to a handful of connect groups before landing in Joel’s—which is how we met.

“We met at a connect group… not exactly a romcom meet-cute, but…” I trail off as I pull my top over my head.

I grew up hearing my parents' incredible love story, and I want something like that. Romantic comedies are basically my personality. My parents’ story had a side of telenovela so we’ll just skip the drama and stick with the romcom. But a meet-cute? I’ve always dreamed of that. You know—the guy and the girl reach for the same book in a tiny bookstore and their hands brush, and there’s instant chemistry. Or maybe, they meet on a plane because they’re sitting next to each other and they’re headed different directions but end up staying in touch and eventually get married?

I could spin off a lot of different meet-cute scenarios. Sparks flying everywhere. I told you, romantic comedies are my personality. And meeting at a connect group? Not exactly the stuff of movies.

But, he’s different. So that’s enough for now.

I emerge, tugging my top into place. “He’s not just different from my ex,” I say, tilting my head. “He’s different fromeveryguy I’ve dated. Sort of the exact opposite… which could be a good thing?”

Joy slips on her pink satin jacket, one of the Pink Ladies for tonight’s theme, and glances at me in the mirror. “I’ve always thought you wanted a spark, though.”

It may not sound like something out of a romcom and everything I’ve ever dreamed of, but Joel’snice. We have a good time together whenever we’re hanging out. And maybe, the fact that we don’t have a sizzling spark means my heart is safe. That maybe he won’t break my heart like the other guys did because I haven’t fallen too deep, too fast. I always got my heart way too invested in them and they would leave me feeling hurt.

More than anything, I want a man who loves God more than he loves and wants my body. I’ve made some… questionable choices in the past. Too many guys didn’t want me without the physical stuff, and I kept hoping they’d change. Spoiler: they didn’t.

I grew up watching Mandy Moore inA Walk To Remember, swooning over how romantic it was that Landon Carter was all bad boy-turned-husband-of-the-year because of her. I have so many happy sighs and sad tears over that movie. I wanted to be the girl who made a guy change. To love me so much for who I am that it inspired him to want to wait for me. That I was worth waiting for. There really weren’t any wonderful guys down in Bournemouth for me. I also did like the bad boy image a little too much. I’m a goodie two-shoes that follows the rules, but finding a guy who makes me take risks? The right risks? I love that.

And I clearly got that side of the equation wrong. Because I can’t change any man. But I’ve learned from my mistakes now. I know now that I don’t need to change anyone. I just need to wait for the right person.

“I know,” I admit, slipping on my heels. “But maybe it’s something that grows? Maybe I’ll get the spark later?” I grab my lipstick and pause, the uncertainty lingering. “I like him. He’s a nice guy. We laugh a lot. I think I just want to wait it out and see.”

Joy nods thoughtfully. “Since you two aren’t even official yet, taking it slow sounds like a good idea.”

Speaking of slow…

---