recognising the signs

My lover is dark and dazzling, better than ten thousand others! (Song of Songs 5:10)

My boss is really hot. El diablo hot. Dark eyes, dark hair and an arrogant manner that screams for female attention. Points against him are that he is shortish and rather skinny, but he has beautiful chocolate-fountain eyes with a puppy-dog slant, and a smile that hints of both warmth and impudence.

Now is the time to recognise the signs. Herein lies the danger of staff parties and extended exposure. While I can't really prevent our being in close proximity for large portions of the day, I can stop, for instance, gazing at him - and his arse - when he's not looking.

It is so easy to build someone up in your ideals. People who walk this earth with the benefits of high cheekbones and large eyes, or aesthetically proportioned figures and flawless skin are often forgiven their shortcomings more readily than those who aren't quite so attractive. My boss is no one special. He's not that funny, although he has his moments. (Aargh, begone vapid mistress of smitten-ness.) He is not that intelligent. He is not that romantic or affectionate. He doesn't express his opinions at any length. This is a man who, without his conventional good looks, would struggle to make a more lasting impact on the world.

Hmm, that's cruel. But necessary methinks. I need to view him as someone lucky enough to be good looking, not someone who should be admired and longed-for on the basis of these looks.

This is Day Two and I am again at home. It's all much easier when I have nothing but television to distract me. Eventually I'll stop counting the days and sounding too 'holy'.

Day one

Let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily hinders our progress. And let us run with endurance the race that God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, on whom our faith depends from start to finish. (Hebrews 12: 1-2)

I believe one of the most hurtful things someone can say to you is: "I wish I had never met you." Similarly, one of the saddest things someone can say to themselves is: "I wish I had never been born." Hurtful because it says that your very existence in their lives has had an effect they wish neither to revel in or to learn from. Your impact has been detrimental to the extent that it would rather be forgotten. Sad because it implies you believe your own impact and existence is detrimental to the point of irrelevance and oblivion. At the end of L'Etranger the protagonist, Mersault comes to the conclusion that in the very last minutes of his life he can still impact upon the lives of those around him, that he can know he - for even a brief moment - affected the life of another. He wants those people to remember him and perhaps learn from the experience of seeing him.

I veer between wishing I had never done the things I have, consigning the last few years to oblivion. And hoping that remembering, and learning from, my past actions will result in something positive. The fact is that, like the phrases above, I have done these things. I have "met me", in the contemporary tendency of ascribing stages of life as different versions of yourself. I am like totally a different girl to the one who went into the house, gushes the latest Big Brother contestant to be evicted.

The significance of past actions can be easily identified: a poor reputation, an overwhelming sense of guilt, a risk of disgusting anyone I might hope to form a real relationship with in the future, a detached understanding of the nature of sex. But there are other significances that will probably emerge over time.

The most frightening one for me is whether my continual and depraved hypocrisy - while continuing to attend church and pray - has disgusted God to the extent that He can't love me. Is this fear the obstacle to truly being a Christian? A faith that can move mountains can also help a guilty soul feel loved. Surely a Christian, in order to be such, must believe that he or she is loved by God? On good days I do. On dark days He is so disappointed in me that I am loved through a veil of His tears, and it is my sin that has made Him weep. What kind of horrible person can do that to someone they try so hard to love?

The title of this blog is somewhat misleading. While it is a reference to the Samaritan woman Jesus met at the well, it implies that her sin is like mine. Mine is worse because I have never been in love with anyone I've slept with. I have not been in a relationship and I have not committed myself in other, more cerebral and admirable ways. Occasionally I have walked away and hoped that maybe that person might like me enough to follow, but they haven't, whether because they were aware that I didn't particularly like them or because they didn't particularly like me, or a combination of both. Ironically my actions that were fuelled by a lack of self-esteem have too often crushed my ego still further. This sin will remain with me for as long as I do not make a very real effort to change and to live a life with Jesus, accountable to Him.

This is Day One. I have had a bath and I sit with a cup of tea in a nightdress that takes Victorian fashion sense to heart. I look wholesome, I feel afraid. This will not be easy as, several decades into my life, I realise that being a Christian means genuinely trusting in God.

This is the most destructive of my personal demons (there are plenty more besides). Help me Lord Jesus, please.

Introduction: the shit-stained sepulcre

Hello.
I have a confession to make; several in fact and perhaps over the course of time they will be made. Or not. This blog is not really here to be read but to be written. By imposing upon myself a responsibility to write each week, I hope to challenge the life I live the week before. This blog represents the conversations I should be having. It is the anonymous discourse between myself and my conscience.

I am a Christian, or at least I try to be. I am also a hypocrite, which I succeed at far better. This is not a happy state of affairs.

I believe I am a Christian in my mind and in my heart, but I live with a terrible need to find affirmation through sex. I'm not an addict, I'm not a whore, I don't compulsively find strangers simply for the purpose of getting laid, but when the moment arises I don't say no. This way of living is little different from that of many other women in their twenties, thirties and older. Glamourised in Sex and the City and Friends and Cosmopolitan and all the other scapegoats for aggressive female sexuality, this has become a defensible way of enjoying the company of men. However, I don't feel I can maintain any kind of meaningful relationship with God for as long as I continue in this way.

I am open about the fact that I sin, but a shit-stained sepulcre is still a sepulcre. I make excuses: a lack of self-esteem, a need to make these men like me (not love me, because my subsequent regret is always too great a hurdle to attempt a relationship), a fear of confrontation, a lack of good friends who share my faith. But these excuses are an insipid attempt to convince myself that this is not my fault. It is. I lie to myself and I lie to God. I lie to God by crying a little, praying a little and promising not to do it again. This blog, trivial as it may seem, represents my efforts to stop lying.

This blog also represents my efforts to be held accountable. As I said before, I have no good friend, who shares my faith, with whom I can have this conversation. I am wary of searching for a particular someone to take on the responsibility of listening, supporting and advising. So I have taken this step: holding myself accountable in my own words, to my own conscience and with the knowledge that someone faceless and nameless could find these words and follow my journey; anonymously holding me accountable to this endeavour. And articulating through this my promise to God: that I will follow Him and remember Him and ultimately be held accountable to Him.

If anyone does read this - particularly evangelical types - then I do ask one thing: please don't be too damning. First of all, it's not really your position to pronounce judgement, there's someone far better placed for that. Second of all, I am fully aware of my hypocrisy. I know that I let God down and I want to change. This blog is a proactive attempt to do just that. The logic of this may be lost on some people, but if I know that I need to be honest - and this veil of anonymity will be bloody useful to achieve that aim - then I hope to challenge my actions with this responsibility. Some people wear WWJD? bracelets, others immerse themselves in a church environment and friendship group, I blog.

So here goes...