I've long felt dating is much like football—but without the shoulder pads. My most recent example: The 2003 NFC Wild Card Playoffs between the Green Bay Packers and Seattle Seahawks.
The game was headed into overtime, tied at 27. In the NFL, the team who scores first in overtime wins, and first possession of the ball is determined by a coin flip. Seattle correctly guessed heads. Quarterback Matt Hasselbeck told officials and TV cameras the Seahawks wanted the ball. And then he added the boast: "And we will score."
In a way, Hasselbeck's bold statement made me think about a sometimes-harmful confidence we can have or expect about dating.
Had Hasselbeck indeed scored and won the game, he probably would have given interviews afterwards saying, "I just knew we'd score." Instead, Hasselbeck threw an interception from his own 45-yard line to Green Bay's Al Harris. Harris ran the ball into the end zone to win the game for the Packers. And Hasselbeck just looked silly.
It's easy to say how things are going to turn out; it's harder to be right. Hasselbeck learned this lesson. I have too. I've twice thought I was dating the woman I would marry. Both times, I told friends I just knew. "She's the one," I remember saying. "This is it." With both girlfriends, we talked about it. I even told one (while ring shopping!): "On our first date, you sat next to me and I felt it. I just knew."
If I, like Matt Hasselbeck, had cameras on me during my time of dating both ex-girlfriends, I surely would have made these confident claims publicly—and looked awfully silly when I was wrong. But since dating is far more private than the NFL playoffs—well, except for reality TV—I can just pretend I didn't think or say that and move on. But I wonder, Is it good for me to be expecting to "just know?"
I don't think I'm alone in doing this. I think it's normal to assume some of our dating partners are "the one" until eventually they turn out not to be. After all, would we invest ourselves in relationships if we didn't have some inkling we would marry them? No, that's why we date: to figure it out. But if we just "knew" when we first kissed, held hands, or sat next to each other, we wouldn't need to work to grow relationships. We wouldn't have to work at them to learn about one another, which, of course, is part of the natural progression of a healthy relationship.
So, where does this tendency come from to think we'll "just know"? Well, obviously it starts with our God-given desire to find a spouse. For those of us who've dated for a few (or many!) years as an adult, it's easy to jump the gun a bit. Also, much of it is romanticism. And then some of it's probably that blissful cartoon-singing-birds stage of a new relationship where our heads are bouncing ahead of rational thought. But I think some credit goes to the messages we hear.
That's where married friends and Julia Roberts movies come in. We often hear "I just knew" stories from married people. That's great, but it can put pressure on us singles. I've seen it affect me and some of the women I've dated. We can start to expect that we too will know right away when we hear several "When he took my hand, I knew" stories. The problem: Of course married people can say they just knew: It worked out. It would be just like if Hasselbeck had scored on that overtime drive. But for every married person who says they just knew, how many singles are there who thought they knew before the relationship was intercepted?
Now, I'm not saying you can't know you're with the one. It happens. My friend Tara called me after her first date with Carl and told me they'd be married. Eight months later, they were. God can work in amazing ways. But he also works in amazingly different ways. We don't know how it will happen. We may not realize a certain person is the best fit for us until we've dated for six months. Or, it might happen after six years of friendship. Who knows what God can do?
