I'm attending a church potluck tonight. And I have to be honest, I have mixed feelings about it. For some reason it calls to mind those Trix cereal commercials from several years back—the ones with the animated bunny doing everything he can to get himself a bowl of the sugary breakfast treat.

Once the kids catch him in the act, they scold him, "Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids." I fear a similar feeling as I sit amongst the couples, casseroles, and baby carriers: Silly singleton, church potlucks are for families.

So why did I RSVP yes? Because I know two of my single friends will be there.

This potluck paranoia would be harmless if it were an isolated incident. But I fear it's part of a larger trend—in my life and in the lives of countless other singles. I often don't attend church "family functions" because I think they'd be awkward. I sometimes don't attend the company Christmas party or a weekly dinner gathering hosted by a family in my church for the same reason. I often don't sign up for things or firm up weekend plans until the 11th hour.

I know I'm not alone in my skittish tendencies. Any of you who have planned a singles social event or conference know that a lion's share of the attendees RSVP at the last minute, if they do so at all. Sometimes trying to get my single friends to call me back and make weekend plans is like trying to organize a world summit.

And as slow as we can be to say "yes, I'll be there," we can be equally fast to cry foul whenever we feel wronged in Christian circles. Some of the negative e–mails we receive here at ChristianSinglesToday.com—taking issue with my willingness to try Internet dating or scolding us for not spending more time highlighting all the positives of singledom—are a testament to that.

Let's face it, we singles can be a demanding, elusive, noncommittal lot.

But as silly as my casserole–aphobia is, you know as well as I do that this fear isn't altogether unfounded. The last all–church function I attended solo was an awkward evening of trying to strike up conversation with married folks I'd formerly served on committees with until they all–too–quickly boomeranged back to their spouses.

During a company Christmas party several years ago, I threw off the numbers at our table of married couples and me and spent the evening sandwiched between a coworker's quiet male fiancé I'd never met before and another coworker's wife, who spent most of the meal ensconced in conversation with the other side of our round table.

I've sat through multi–week sermon series on being a good spouse; attended church women's function that speak only to being a good wife and mom; answered countless questions from relatives, friends, and strangers alike about why a "nice girl like you is still single" (or at least tried to answer these questions); and explained to leaders of national ministries that I really didn't choose career over marriage.