Unfortunately, he still hadn’t asked for my number, or a date, or my hand in marriage, and my drink was getting low.

I told him I had once lost everything I had, too, and that I think that can be God’s way of building walls around us to force us to look up at Him.

I decided I would fill the emptiness in me with God and with paint.

I remembered learning from my favorite professor at Belmont to “surround yourself with people who are better than you,” and I was now living that mantra.

He told me that when we first met, he had said to a friend about me: “If I get that girl’s number I will never ask another girl for her number again.

But I tended not to date men who ever showed up for me.

We kissed each other until we were too tired to keep going. I could still feel him holding back. It was my penance for what I had done to him. All I could do was hope the walls would fall and that I could have all of him again, but I was always leaving and he was tired of watching me walk away. We both knew that I couldn’t stay and that he couldn’t come with me, but still, we couldn’t let go.

Each guy stamped the passport of my heart. “You’re worthy.” Stamp. “You’re enough.” “You have not failed completely.” Stamp, stamp.

I didn’t answer. We were not buddies. We could not chat about the proximity of our offices, or football, or forgiveness.