Being Pursued Flawlessly

Every girl longs to be pursued. A woman’s entire demeanor can change simply due to feeling beautiful and admired. However, a woman can feel radically differently if she feels pursued by the wrong man. A morning text from a man she enjoys causes her to blush and smile upon waking. A morning text from a man she despises causes her to get, as the French say, the “heeby-jeebies” and feel not pursued, but stalked. [Warning to all men: HEED THE SIGNS. Do not be an unwitting stalker.]

However, even if she is being pursued by the most wonderful man, his antics will eventually fall flat. The feeling of being desired by men is temporary and fleeting. If said man stays, said woman will eventually need to feel accepted and desired by her friends and colleagues. If said man finds a new woman to pursue, said woman is left with a bruised heart and little to no confidence in herself, her intelligence, her beauty, her whimsy.
Humans can not pursue [or be pursued] perfectly.

Yet we still long for it.

I have recently been pursued.
It was gentle at first, and irregular. I hardly noticed him stepping into my conversations. I unconsciously ignored his morning greetings. He was tender when he would speak to me, oftentimes so much so that I would miss it completely.
But then he started getting whimsical.

I went to a concert of a band I’ve loved for years. It was your standard concert. Multiple guitars, full drum set, mics loud enough to get the crowd to forget they were tone deaf and just sing and dance along with full abandon because that’s what music does to people.
But then the band stepped away from the mics. For no real reason at all, they stepped away from the instruments and the amps. They stepped away from the props and the lights. And with four unmic’d voices and an unplugged acoustic, they began to sing one song – the song nearest and dearest to my heart: the song that my beautifully soul’d friend and I sang over and over and over again unmic’d with an acoustic. Hearing that particular song, played that particular way took me back to roadtrips and jam sessions and passions being pursued. Mostly though, it took me back to loving and being loved by dear friends – dear friends who daily showed me the love of him who was pursuing me.

That was the first time I noticed him.

He arrived again at another concert, and later again at a beer market, of all places. He seemed to know me very well because he kept showing up at my most favorite spots, with my most favorite people, more and more frequently. I started to notice and eventually invite his good morning greetings; he would meet me in the morning with a warm beverage and a poem, sometimes a song, occasionally a sunrise.

I’m still not good at pursuing him. He shouldn’t love me, really. I don’t deserve him at all. I ignore him for long periods of time. Sometimes I even lie about spending time with him so people think we’re perfect for each other. Sometimes I’m embarrassed by him and sometimes I get very, very angry with him, even though he is only, only good to me.

But he keeps pursuing me. He pursues me perfectly, uniquely. He pursues me in such a way that I do not need to be pursued by anyone else. He loves me and I love Him. He dances with me, even when I trip, even when I face plant. He carries me & laughs with me & comforts me & desires me & chooses me.

He pursues my heart; now its His.

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