I was recently flipping through an old photo album and stumbled upon this gem:

Friends…

Two-year-old Sarah evidently had game.

I can assure you, twenty-two-year-old Sarah cannot say the same.

In fact, as far as romantic relationships go, in the twenty years since that photo, I’ve tallied a big ole goose egg.

Now, there are plenty of reasons for this, but a big one is the fact that I’ve always been much more comfortable with crushing than, you know, relationships.

I blame this on the fact that I tend to be a bit of a skeptic.

Funnily enough, the Greek word for skeptic actually means to “check out at a distance,” which, at least to me, seems like an apt description for what’s happening when you’re crushing on somebody.

You’re checking them out a distance.

Which is fine!

I don’t know about you, but I want to be sure the person isn’t coo-coo banana pants or apt to bite.

However!

I’ve also learned that if, after a time, you see that that person really is alright, you can’t keep standing at a distance if you want a real relationship.

You’ve got to be willing to close it.

And see, that’s been a real sticking point for me because closing the distance involves three objectively challenging things:

1. Exclusivity
2. Vulnerability
3. Insecurity

And so this week, I want to discuss how I’ve reckoned with and thought through all three because I firmly believe that closing the distance is a truly wonderful and worthwhile thing.

Challenge #1: Exclusivity

One of my absolute favorite guilty pleasure movies is hands down This Means War starring Reese Witherspoon, Chris Pine, and Tom Hardy.

The basic premise is this: two CIA agents/lifelong best friends unknowingly start dating the same girl, and when they discover their love angle situation, it leads to all sorts of drama and shenanigans.

I won’t spoil who she ends up with, but the below clip from the end of the movie provides a helpful illustration for how closing the distance requires that you actually pick.

She can’t choose both of them in the end.

It’s got to be one or the other, or she’s going off the cliff.

And listen, if I were being forced to pick between Chris Pine and Tom Hardy, I would probably be a little stiff.

Indeed, I submit that a lot of people today don’t want to close the distance precisely because they don’t want to close out potential alternatives.

I’ve definitely fallen into this kind of thinking before, but, friends, what I’ve come to see is that true intimacy demands exclusivity.

See, if you reference the photo of little Sarah above, you’ll notice that there is not a lot of space between me and my mini Prince Charming.

We’re attached at the lips, and if either of us tried to stuff another person between us, they simply wouldn’t fit.

We’d have to break our connection to get them in.

And here’s the thing:

It’s easy to rag on exclusivity and bemoan all the people you will surely miss if you’re already attached at the lips, but what I’ve come to see is that while it’s easy to define exclusivity negatively (i.e. by all the people you will miss), you can also define it positively as the presence of commitment.

Because, in the end, what you’re saying when you decide to close the distance and lock lips is:

“You’re it.”

“I’ve picked.”

And having done that, you can now have a much, much deeper relationship, which, at least if you ask me, is well worth the price of exclusivity.

Challenge #2: Vulnerability

The second thing that I think gives most people pause when it comes to closing the distance between a crush and a relationship is the simple risk of it.

I mean, if you want a proof of how dangerous closing the distance can be, look no further than this scene from the fourth season of Vikings.

I don’t know about you, but that gave me second thoughts about kissing.

I’m being slightly facetious here.

I don’t actually think potential paramours carry knives up their sleeves, but the fact remains that closing the distance requires vulnerability, both physically and emotionally.

And yet… neither of those things are easy, especially when you’ve been “knifed” before, so to speak.

However!

Electing to stand at a distance ad infinitum sets you up for monstrosity.

I’m not even kidding.

If you don’t believe me, you should read Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (check out Dr. Karen Swallow Prior’s newly released guided edition!).

In the story, Dr. Frankenstein’s creation (he doesn’t actually have a name) is initially kind and gentle, seeking connection and affection from humanity.

However, after being chased away, beaten, and even shot by various humans (Dr. Frankenstein included), he comes to the conclusion that his lot will never change, goes fully incel, and sets out on a murderous rampage.

Now, I’m no psychologist, but I suspect his devolution has something to do with a point well made by C.S. Lewis in The Four Loves:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

That was the choice Dr. Frankenstein’s creation ultimately made–to lock up his heart from humanity and keep himself far, far away.

And that decision changed him.

It dulled his capacity to love and ultimately made him monstrous inside.

I think about that a lot.

Because my natural default setting is to remember the times I’ve been relationally chased away, beaten, shot, and/or knifed, and in those moments, keeping my distance seems absolutely prime.

But friends…

I think C.S. Lewis was right.

To love at all is to be vulnerable.

You’ve got to risk it to get the biscuit, so to speak.

The alternative is both monstrous and, frankly, pretty bleak.

Challenge #3: Insecurity

Alright, friends.

We’re almost to the end.

Thank you for hanging with me–the fact that people take the time to read my musings means the world to me.

Also, PSA: if you haven’t seen The Titanic, I’m about to spoil the movie.

Sorry! But I think its conclusion captures closing the distance’s last major difficulty: insecurity.

Now, I don’t mean insecurity in the self-conscious sense.

I mean it in terms of life’s general unpredictableness.

See, the unfortunate thing about relationships is that happily ever afters are not guaranteed.

Indeed, as demonstrated in The Titanic, it is entirely possible that after overcoming hang ups concerning exclusivity and stomaching vulnerability, you might close the distance and form a deep relationship only to lose it unexpectedly.

Rose chose Jack over Cal.

Bore the whole kit and kaboodle of herself. #paintmelikeoneofyourfrenchgirls

And then…

Jack turned into a popsicle.

As a writer, I can appreciate the drama of the scene, but as a viewer, I’m one of those charming people who shouts at the screen,

“What are you doing? There’s room on the stupid door for you both–move your butt, Rose!”

I’m not even kidding.

And yet, for all that, I can’t deny that the film drives home a significant and sobering fact:

Closing the distance is no guarantee against death.

I don’t mean to put too fine a point on this, but, to quote Chuck Palahniuk, “everyone you love will die.”

It is not a question of if but of when, and that makes closing the distance seem almost masochistic in the end.

Indeed, in Augustine’s Confessions he describes the weight of grief that followed the death of a close friend like this:

“The reason why that grief had penetrated me so easily and deeply was that I had poured out my soul onto the sand by loving a person sure to die as if he would never die.”

If death is, in fact, THE END, closing the distance is just another form of pouring your soul onto the sand.

And who in their right mind would want to do that?

However…

If death is not THE END, that changes the calculus.

My man Dietrich Bonhoeffer put it like this:

“Death is hell and night and cold, if it is not transformed by our faith. But that is just what is so marvelous, that we can transform death.”

Amen.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

I can personally attest to the fact that once you know that death is not THE END, closing the distance becomes not a masochistic pouring of your soul upon the sand but rather a foretaste of Heaven, which, if you know me, I’m a big fan.

In fact, to that end, it was a bit of a fib when I said that I’m not/have never been in a relationship because while it’s not romantic per se, I am definitely in a relationship these days, and let me just tell you, it’s changed everything.

“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 1 Corinthians 15:55-57.

And so, friends, if you presently find yourself crushing at a distance, take it from me:

Closing the distance is a truly wonderful and worthwhile thing.

That’s all for this week!

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