I am 32 now. The one thing I want at this point in life is to settle down with the woman God has for me. Someday I’ll find her. The thing is I am extremely insecure. Talking to girls doesn’t come naturally easy for me. My stomach gets tied up in knots and I feel like I’m going to hurl. So often I try to not have to talk to them. I know – it’s not the best way to meet a girl. It’s something I am working on and it doesn’t come easy. The thing about finding someone now is that I am 32. I like where I am at in life. I have also created a lot of baggage for myself over the years. Stuff I’m not proud of – but stuff that God has pulled me through and often kicking and screaming all the way through it.

I was reading an article on the Boundless website today and it really resonated with me. It talks about the baggage we accumulate as singles and how we do with it versus how we should. It’s a great article. Here’s a clip;

Last month I turned 30.

This wasn’t a painful milestone for me. The Lord has richly blessed my 20s. His mercies are new every morning and His faithfulness is deeper than I could have imagined at 21.

An old friend called me on my birthday to wish me a happy one. Though we no longer share the same biblical worldview, he and I are at a similar spot in life — early 30s, unmarried. We used to attend the same youth group, and one time we almost went golfing on a date. (My parents decided against it at the last moment.)

As my friend and I talked and reminisced our conversation fell to our single plight (deep down we all want things like marriage and family). “It used to be really simple,” my friend said with a laugh. By “it” he meant establishing a romantic relationship. (He was engaged his senior year of college, but it fell through.)

“Now I’ve lost confidence in my ability to choose,” he said. “I know how I am. I know all these things about myself, and I know what won’t work for me. I almost know too much about myself.”

I knew exactly what he meant. In the eight years since college, I’ve accumulated more than a house full of photographs, furniture and dishes that aren’t plastic — I’ve developed a fairly complex identity. And honestly, finding someone who’s a fit seems like a much more difficult task than it used to.