Confessions of a Catholic Dater

In my experience, dating advice for Catholic women has come from one of two categories. From one camp a married woman embodies the realization of the process. Even a most unconventional route to matrimony allows her to testify as a success story. And what worked for her sidles into my comprehensive notion regarding how to date.

In the other camp is a young, single missionary. She speaks from the opposite end of the spectrum—that is, she has been instructed not to date throughout the duration of her service. She preaches theory regarding courtship, what should work, though it has a tendency to fall flat and seem out-of-touch.

Forgive the perceivably scrutinizing voice; after all, these relatively removed perspectives can be beneficial. The wife provides hope for those treading in the vast ocean that is spouse-seeking. The missionary’s conviction proves that secular culture has not entirely scorched the earth. Women seeking holy marriages still exist. The essence of their messages come from the Lord Who desires for us to witness an image of Christ’s intimacy in Matrimony.

Still, never have I heard from a woman in the thick of it. In the messiness, the confusion, the disorientation that is Catholic dating.

So for you, whenever and wherever you are on this road, I will be that voice.

The prayerful words that follow come from behind enemy lines. The enemy? Some post-graduate vision I had; a voice that whispers Emma, the clock is ticking; the sweet seduction to give up. If you have never seen or heard it, here it is: Catholic dating is hard. But (spoiler alert) I will not falter or settle, and neither should you.

A culture that encourages swipe-right objectification and glorifies the bare minimum is hard enough to navigate for a woman in her early twenties. Now, a new trend in Catholic dating philosophy further muddles not merely dating but the entirety of the Christian enterprise.

The attitude is called “emotional chastity.” At first glance, it may seem to parallel guidelines for physicality between a couple: discipline your thoughts so that you may love every person better. Aspects of the persuasion are certainly reasonable: do not share one hundred percent of yourself with someone who has not covenanted himself to your body, mind, and will.  

The all-encompassing goal of emotional chastity, however, diametrically opposes the salvific mission of Christ. Extrapolated and applied to other human relationships, it can pull apart the institution of friendship, create division in the human race, and divert our souls from Heaven. The troublesome message must be addressed:

“Practice emotional chastity to protect your heart.”

Protect my heart?

From what shall I protect my heart? Giving too much? Loving too much? Rejection? Humiliation? A bad date?

Let every rejection remind me of Christ’s radically relentless invitation toward conversion. Let every man see me as an image of the living God who Himself was humiliated beyond compare. Let every ounce of suffering sharpen my conviction, drawing me ever closer to cling to my Lord.

Victory is won because Jesus chose not to protect the most human of hearts—His own. The crucified Christ is the perfect image of Reason most Vulnerable, Naked, and Scarred. He is the Logos, yet we choose darkness over Light (c.f. Jn. 3:19). He is Truth, and into His head we drive thorns. He is Life, but He will breathe His last breath for our sake.

In His perfect human will, Christ gives Himself away. Through it all, His arms are open. Outstretched. The rejected, humiliated, suffering Lord invites us into Him.

Christ does everything but protect His heart. We pierce it, and His blood sheds for us.

I will be the voice in the wilderness that is Catholic dating; I will admit there are seasons of peace and seasons of weariness. I will admit that my faith has been shaken, my conviction questioned, my will tested. But no matter how much it will hurt, I will never concede to any influence that asks me to choose for my heart isolation over openness, seclusion over compassion, or indifference over love. If I am to be like Christ, protecting my heart is not part of the program. Toward a significant other, a family member, a friend, or a stranger, my arms must extend to one day match the infinite wingspan of the Nazarean.

If the Lord is welding my soul so that one day it may resemble His, let Him do it.