Husband Material

Scott

 Ever heard of missionary dating? Its this concept that every young adult Christian has been warned of. It implies dating someone with the sole purpose of converting them to Christianity. Thus the term "missionary". Yes, I know, its pretty messed up. Which is why we're warned to not do it. But there's another strain of missionary dating that's much more acceptable among our circles: trying to convert someone from within an already existing relationship.

This is more widely accepted because of the whole "unequally yoked" thing. You may not have heard about that one either. In Second Corinthians there's a verse that says to not get involved romantically with unbelievers. A warning to keep both party's from getting hurt and to keep things from getting complicated. It's a fact that religious people and non-religious people live in two completely different worlds, so relationships can get tense when those worlds don't align. It's pretty sound advice that no one can deny. So, to avoid being "unequally yoked", many new Christians try to force their faith on their unsaved partners. From childhood, I understood the severity of getting into that kind of situation. I had watched a marriage be ripped apart within my church when a man in our assembly's staunchly atheist wife left him and took her kids with her. He wanted the children to go to Sunday School, and she wanted them to have nothing to do with it. It was no one's fault, it was just a very difficult situation. So, I understood very early on that oil and water don't mix, and neither do a believer and a non-believer in romance.

But...it's very different when it's you that has the romance.

Romance might be a strong word to use for my situation. But if you recall, I tend to over-dramatize situations. Also, recall that I will tell this from the perspective of a thirteen year old, so hormones and immaturity may have distorted reality a little. Still, I was old enough to remember the more prominent details.

It was grade eight. I won't gloss over things: grade eight was the worst. As has been established- I'm tall. "Lanky" is the exact word that people often use to describe me. Though I've grown into it a little better now, at thirteen, I was a beanpole. Basically freakish. Additionally, I still hadn't hit puberty, so to top it all off I was a flat-chested freak. I was shy, bookish, awkward, introverted. The cherry on top was that Callie Grausam, though irritating and manipulative, had become basically my only school friend. I guess we clung to each other in the fact that no one else really wanted us. But, the summer before grade eight started, Callie and her family moved three hours away.

Needless to say I was lonely. No, not just lonely. I was starving for attention. From someone...anyone. I knew his reputation. I had heard all the stories. And yet when Scott Pederson, a boy from my class, first messaged me over Facebook, I responded enthusiastically. It didn't matter that I knew that as young as he was, he had already lost his virginity, bought weed from high schoolers, and went to keggers on the weekends. What mattered was that someone was talking to me. More importantly, a boy was talking to me. It only took me about 5 minutes to fall in love with him.

So I decided to not heed the warning against missionary dating that I had heard so many times. Despite all that I knew about him, I decided I was going to help Scott see the light and then... we would live happily ever after.

Anyone who has tried to get to know someone online understands that the quickest way to get things done is to play twenty questions. It's also a patented method of flirting. However, I forgot to mention that at thirteen, I was as innocent as they come. I still didn't have a clear concept of how babies were made, though I had finally figured out that the storks weren't involved. In my innocence, when he suggested that we play it, all his casually slipped in references to anything physical, went whoosh!, over my head. For example, when he asked the question "what are you wearing right now?" my answer was sweatpants. I know, it was getting pretty spicy.

I guess I can't honestly say that I had no idea what he was truly after. I kept the communication secret, feeling kind of grown up and scandalous. I would carry the family laptop into the bathroom, the only room in the house with a lock. I would try to type as quietly as possible, hoping my siblings and parents wouldn't hear and know Joanna is talking to a boy! After every session on Facebook I was sure to log out, clear my history, and tip toe to replace the laptop in its spot. This wasn't the most foolproof plan considering the fact that people actually have to use the bathroom and were constantly knocking on the door and telling me to get out. But I needed the privacy because I knew what I was doing felt wrong. I knew that Scott was bad news. But I craved the attention so bad that I let it go on.

When I saw Scott at school, we hardly even looked at each other. We certainly never talked. But everytime he accidentally brushed me with his hand or stood within a few inches of me, I felt myself get warm all over as though I had swallowed a mug of hot tea. I found myself orchestrating different ways that I could make us "accidentally" meet in the hallways throughout the day. To everyone around, I was no doubt so obvious; I would flush and hold my breath everytime he came near. He of course already had caught on to how I felt, and learned how to use it against me.

I was still obsessed with the idea of making him repent of his sinful ways and marry me. We had been talking for about a month before he really got down to business. These messaging sessions consisted of me sharing my opinions on the books I was reading at the time (remember that I was a nerd) and occasionally slipping in a church reference, and him, dodging these references by complimenting me on my looks. I thought it was going rather well, and that he would pop the question, or rather just ask me out on a date since we were only thirteen, very soon. That was when Scott asked for the pics.

I know that after this account, I seem pretty frivolous and silly- swept away by the fantasy of a boy. But the moment that text came through, my head was screwed on straight. Obviously, I told him no. Very directly, very firmly. I forgave him in my heart, thinking maybe he just misunderstood my intentions. I expected him to apologize, or say one of his friends had gotten a hold of his phone and pranked me. But instead, he stopped talking to me. Completely. I went to school the next day, confused at what had happened. When had I ever given the impression that I would be okay with sending pictures of me like that? I had decided that I would talk to him in person about it. I would be mature, make sure he understood that I wouldn't tell my parents to get him in trouble or anything. Everytime I tried to catch his eye though, he looked away.

I was sitting at my desk, rehearsing what I would say to him in my head, when I snatched a part of a conversation he was having with his friends.

"I thought she would be easy, you know," Scott was telling his friends, "I mean, you've got to get fed up with the whole 'good girl' act after a while."

"I told you man," replied a boy. Turns out it was Carter Wilson, who you may recall from a previous account. "I've been in her class since kindergarten. She's a prude if I've ever met one. You'd think she'd been raised by nuns."

"Yeah, you're telling me!" Scott scoffed. "She replied with this big long paragraph about how inappropriate it was. Here look-" he said, and he handed his phone over to Carter. Carter just shook his head and muttered something, which Scott laughed at.

"Whatever, I didn't even want the pics," he admitted arrogantly. "I mean it's not as if Joanna Abrams has anything worth looking at anyway." They shot a furtive look in my direction. At that precise moment I looked away, blushing intensely, and began furiously scribbling down notes of the math lesson. A little louder, just so I could hear, he said, "I guess Lewis wins $20. He bet me that I couldn't get her to do anything risky. Now, I've wasted a month of my time."

I slid further down into my seat, biting the inside of my cheeks to keep from crying. I went home sick at lunch. When I got home, I immediately blocked him and all of our mutual friends. Then, I could have told my mom or Mia. But instead I kept it in because I was so ashamed. How had I been so stupid? How had I been so blinded by the attention I was receiving that I couldn't see it for what it really was? How could I ever have thought I could change someone like that?

I guess Scott had some sort of heart trapped inside his ribcage because the story never got out. But I still shrunk into myself every time he passed by me during the last month of elementary school. After my grade eight graduation, I never saw him again. After that I remembered to guard my heart more closely. But above all, I learned that unsaved boys were off-limits.

So, that only eliminated about 98% of potential husband material.