You Want to Meet Someone, but Your Days Leave No Room
You Want to Meet Someone, but Your Days Leave No Room
You would like to meet someone to share your life with. But between work, studies, and responsibilities, the weeks go by without time to meet anyone.
Duration: 12:21 · Reading with an AI-generated voice. Audio in Spanish.
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Imagine a friend calling to make plans with you to attend a former classmate's wedding.
“We can go together. There'll be people we haven't seen in ages.”
You are pleased. You think of the bride, your friends, the chance to dress up and break out of your routine. Perhaps there will also be a man you have not yet met. The thought gives you a little flutter of hope, even if you tell no one.
You open your planner.
You need to finish a work assignment, get ahead on part of your course, and deal with several things at home. The wedding, which delighted you a moment ago, begins to seem too complicated.
“Let me see, and I'll let you know.”
You mean it. You would like to go.
But the days pass, and you end up saying you cannot make it this time. Saturday comes, you take care of some of your tasks, and that evening you stay home watching a series.
The next day, you see a photograph of the wedding. You recognize some faces. Others are new. You wonder how it went.
Perhaps nothing happened that would have changed your life. You did not get to find out, either.
Something similar can happen to a man. A friend invites him to a birthday lunch where there will be new people, including a colleague he thinks he might like to meet. He replies that he is very busy. Work, studies, things at home. Another day.
On Sunday, he discovers that he spent much of the weekend in front of the television. A photograph is almost all he knows of that lunch.
That small contradiction leaves me thoughtful: wanting to share life with someone, yet letting opportunities to meet new people pass us by.
Our week can resemble a house with a large table. On every chair we have left something: the work laptop, the coursebooks, a bag of things to deal with.
One day, someone arrives whom we want to welcome. The door opens, but when we look for somewhere to seat them, we discover that every chair is occupied by things.
We could clear one. Yet we keep saying:
“As soon as I finish all this, you can come.”
The problem is that something else always comes along.
Work has deadlines. Studies have exams. An invitation seems able to wait until the pace slows. And so people can be left standing at the door of our week.
Sometimes we imagine that when someone special appears, we will make room then. We will leave earlier, change a schedule, keep an afternoon free.
I understand that hope. Falling in love can bring a lovely joy: remembering a remark during work, smiling as we get ready to go out, wishing the moment would come when we see each other again.
But that person needs some opportunity to stop being a stranger.
In the previous installment, we asked what life we wanted to build. Now it is time to look at what real space we are leaving for meeting others.
Perhaps we can begin by clearing one chair.
There is no need to add five commitments to a schedule that is already too heavy. It helps to distinguish which occupations are duties, which do us good, and which could be moved without harming anyone.
When we look over a week, we may be surprised. We were certain that we had no afternoon available. Yet we spent long stretches on social media, going in for a moment and staying considerably longer. Or we finished a season with so many episodes that we now know all the characters' names.
We can describe in detail what happened to people who do not exist, while months have passed since we met a new person.
I would be careful about drawing conclusions. Watching a wholesome series, resting, or enjoying good things has its place. There are evenings when fatigue allows us to follow a story from the couch and leaves little energy for anything else. That, too, needs to be acknowledged, without forgetting our duties toward God.
But if we are free to choose and every free afternoon ends in the same way, a simple reckoning can help: how much time did we devote to those diversions this week? Could we reserve some of it for spending time with people?
Perhaps we have one afternoon every two weeks available. We can write it down and protect that small space. It does not require giving up all rest; it does require deciding that we also want to devote time to real people.
Accepting an invitation can be a beginning. We can also take the initiative.
There are good women and men who want to find their future husband or wife, but have spent years in the same circles. They love their friends and know everyone. When they think about where to meet someone else, they picture the same gatherings with the same faces again.
Perhaps we need to open a window in that life we already know so well.
A course, a sport, an adult catechism class, or painting or music lessons can widen that circle. Having something to do together makes conversation easier and allows our paths to cross again.
I think it matters that the activity truly interests us and that we can give it time with some regularity. We can want to learn music or deepen our formation in the faith and, at the same time, be open to meeting someone with whom to share life.
It also helps to choose thoughtfully. If we hope to share the faith and certain values and interests, let us look for activities where we can find those affinities. A course contrary to our convictions is hardly likely to be the wisest choice for that purpose. An interest can bring us together; getting to know each other will help us discover whether we share what is essential.
There is something we should carry in our hearts as we open those new possibilities. In Casti connubii, Pius XI reminded us that choosing the person who will share our life deserves prayer and prudence, with particular attention to faith and the good of the future family. That is why giving ourselves time to get to know someone matters: discovering what they love, how they live their convictions, and what they want to build. Falling in love is beautiful; it deserves to be accompanied by that knowledge so that love can take root.
We cannot know that from someone's occupation, money, or where they live. A person who leads a simple life may have deep faith, sensitivity, and a desire to learn. Someone who has received a great deal of education may also be far from what we seek for our home.
Nor should we wait for someone without differences or defects. We could let a good person pass by with whom we might build a life. We need to distinguish what is essential from those things in which we can differ and enrich one another.
It also matters what kind of encounter we are making possible. If we are invited to a nightclub where the noise barely allows conversation and everything revolves around drinking until we lose self-control, perhaps we will come home saying, in quotation marks, that we “had a wonderful time.”
But did we really spend time together, or were we merely in the same place? If we could barely talk and alcohol kept us from paying attention, what do we know about that person that would let us consider possible courtship?
If we notice that someone habitually seeks enjoyment through those excesses, we should also ask whether that way of living fits what we hope to share. I think it matters to create occasions where we can truly talk, listen, and get to know one another calmly.
There will be days when we must decline an invitation. If we want to take part, we can offer a concrete alternative.
“This Saturday I have to take care of my mother. If you plan something again next month, let me know in advance. I'd like to go.”
Or perhaps:
“I can't make it this weekend. How about organizing lunch the following weekend? You can invite your friends too.”
We may need to find another date. But we have already taken a step: others know we are interested, and we have suggested how to make it possible.
Of course, there will be invitations we decline without offering another date. We can open our lives with freedom and sound judgment, without handing over all our intimacy at once.
After a pleasant first conversation comes a small possibility: talking again.
Perhaps we were interested in a man's way of listening, or enjoyed a woman's humor. We do not need to decide in one afternoon whether that person could become our partner. We need time to get to know them.
A friendship can resemble a plant someone gave us. We are happy to have it and choose a lovely place to put it. But the affection with which we receive it does not replace the water it will need afterward.
Nor does emptying a bucket over it once a year help.
We nurture acquaintance through possible encounters and some continuity. In one conversation, we learn that someone is waiting for an important answer; in the next, we ask what happened. We discover what concerns them, what makes them laugh, and how they treat others.
If, after a conversation that made us happy, we disappear for months because something else is always more urgent, there will be little chance for that affinity to grow.
There will be friendships that remain friendships, and they have value. There may also be an affection that comes to turn into love. Approaching with sincere interest lets us get to know the person without demanding that every encounter produce a romantic relationship.
Taking those steps opens possibilities, but does not let us decide the outcome. Some people take care of their relationships, meet others, and sincerely wish to marry, yet still do not find someone with whom they can do so.
If that is your case, I would like to tell you something: not having married does not make your life a failure. Your dignity remains whole. Even in a single life you did not seek, there are affections to receive, good to do, and a path of sanctification in your actual circumstances.
The absence of that companionship can hurt. Those of us nearby can offer company without insistent questions, comparisons, or promises that someone will arrive very soon.
We can bring to God both the desire to love and the uncertainty, asking Him for light to recognize what lies within our reach and strength to take a step. If it is hard to distinguish a true duty from the habit of postponing encounters, it helps to speak with someone sensible who knows our circumstances. Prudent spiritual counsel can also enlighten us.
Let us return to those invitations.
This time, she reviews her tasks, distributes what she can do over other days, and confirms with her friend that she will go to the wedding. He gets the necessary things done ahead of time and accepts the birthday lunch.
Perhaps they will meet someone they would like to see again. They may also return without having fallen in love. But they gave a new person the chance to stop being a stranger.
When you look at your next two weeks, what concrete step could you take to meet new people: accept an invitation, suggest getting together, or begin an activity that opens a new circle to you?
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