If you're like me, you've spent years waiting, hoping and believing that the man your parents told you would come along and sweep you off your feet would just magically appear one day and life from that point forward would be happily ever after. And then it begins to happen...to everyone but yourself. You couldn't possibly have the time to meet Mr. Right due to all the showers and weddings that demand your presence, not to mention presents. When is it going to happen for me? you repeatedly ask. Like an incurable case of indigestion, people with not enough to do approach with the same. "When are you going to get married?" When are you going to die? you want to say. Of course you wouldn't dare offend them; however asking a singleton why they're unmarried carries an equal intensity of rudeness.

Instead of embarrassing yourself, you smile politely, but cringe inside, then make a quiet and meek excuse for yourself and gingerly walk away. For you, the event is ruined. You've just been counted as the final or next to last spinster. Nothing...I repeat NOTHING could be worse. Or could it?

Dating: A lovely art that can lead couples to the altar. And in some instances, dating can almost beat a bad divorce. If I've heard it one time, I've heard it one million: "Well, you have to kiss a lot of toads before you meet the handsome prince." I only wish. I could turn a bullfrog loose on individuals that repeat a worn out phrase such as that one. After numerous dating nightmares, I coined a new expression for many of us. You have to kiss a lot of toads and never meet the handsome prince. I didn't want to believe that, but to me it seemed true. I mean, the last boyfriend I had got married while we were still dating. I read the announcement in the newspaper. His fiance was living out of state so he kept her well hidden. And I thanked God for an early rescue from an already established adulterer.

I've heard it spoken all too often, "Date to Eliminate" or "Date to Mate." I say, "Wait to Date." A further example: Dan, my next door neighbor, was not only good-looking, he was single...or so I thought. For months, I observed him coming and going alone. Never once did I see him in the company of a woman. After weeks of trying to catch Dan's attention, he finally invited me out. I had high hopes a relationship might blossom. While dining at an upscale restaurant, Dan asked if I dated anyone steady. Excited that he might be interested in a monogamous relationship with me, I answered, "No one in particular." Curious, I asked, "How about you?" I almost choked on crab claws when Dan explained that his wife would be joining him the following day to discuss reconciling their marriage. How was I to know my next door neighbor in Florida had a wife in North Carolina?

I asked myself, What was I to these men? A snack or filler? Absolutely not. I'd never slept with them. If I had, that might justify feeling like restaurant leftovers. I wasn't a toy that could be used, abused and stuck back in the closet. Yet somehow my circumstances with both men had me feeling like an unpaid prostitute. I had to remind myself: On a scale of moral worth, these duds I'd crossed paths with didn't even register. As far as I was concerned, selecting a partner was a lifelong investment. Good stocks appreciate and never lose their value. For a worthy man, I believed the same. There had to be one out there.

At the insistence of those as eager to get me married off as I was to be happily wed, I joined a dating service. I might as well have called the morgue and made my own funeral arrangements. That experience alone was enough to kill me. First of all, it took about a month to complete my application because I wasn't in that big of a hurry. Another reason I dragged my feet is I had hoped someone would come along in the interim and spare me from having to pay to find a date and/or mate. My qualms began when I specifically asked for a professional and that all male introductions be at least thirty-five years of age and not over forty-eight.

My first introduction was with a professional pool player who lived one thousand miles or more across the country. I then e-mailed the dating service and explained that I resided in the Southeastern part of the United States and I didn't care to travel to California for a date with a man I'd never met. I further explained that my definition of "professional" meant a business man with a college education and one who might work an eight to five job weekdays. Not to knock the game, but I really couldn't picture myself having any commonalities with a man who shot pool for a living.

I have to give the dating service a little credit. My second introduction was a successful financial consultant, but he was sixty-five years old. I was thirty-five at the time and not quite ready to become someone's nurse maid. And the last and final guy the dating service had in store for me was a twenty-six year old paramedic. How appropriate! Their inability to correctly match my age specifications had almost put me on the verge of a stroke. I didn't want medical attention, but I would soon need a paramedic if I didn't sever ties with the dating service.

My worst nightmare was about to become a reality. I was approaching the age of forty...ALONE. could feel the blood rush. It was as though I were standing on the edge of a towering cliff. One foot was on solid ground while the other had slid out from under me. I could try to get a firm grip on the situation and calm myself by calling out to  God through prayer, or I could panic and go crashing down the mountainside. I opted for a firm grip.

All my life, I'd trusted that God had someone specifically chosen for me and no matter where I was or what I was doing, when the time was right, the Lord would prepare a way for the introduction. But I will admit having prayed, hoped and waited for so many long and desolate years, I had begun to seriously doubt my beliefs. Was there some secret formula to matrimony that had somehow passed me by? The voices of friends, family and mere acquaintances echoed through my ears, "You need to get out there, get involved, do more if you're going to find somebody." At this stage of the game, what more was a woman to do? I wondered. I had been set up on too many blind dates to count, gone out with many guys I'd met on my own, and once left my fate of finding a mate in the hands of a regular dating service and even an online dating service.

Through my job, I came in contact with young professionals on a daily basis, but the vast majority had already been initiated into the institution of marriage while the others had steady girlfriends. I met and had decent conversations with many men, but there was no click of chemistry with a single soul. I was aggravated, frustrated and fatigued with folks screaming in my ear that I wasn't putting forth enough effort when, in fact, I'd tried too hard.And I was repulsed when others insinuated it was through my own fault that I hadn't already found a mate. All of the above further convinced me the magic and mystery of meeting a mate had to boil down to timing.  Besides, the married couples I knew who seemed genuinely happy and content met in a natural manner.  That fact alone was reason enough for me to believe that I didn't have to knock myself out to find a husband.

I began to conduct a personal inventory. Suddenly, my eyes opened to something they hadn't yet seen -- God's Handprint on my life. Reflecting on my past, I asked myself one question: Had God ever failed to deliver? The answer was a resounding no. When I wasn't even in the market to buy a home, a realtor friend called and told me about a steal of a deal on a condo. I had just renewed the lease for another year at my apartment, but I felt compelled to explore the situation. The offer was too good to refuse, and one I doubt I would have ever stumbled upon on my own had I been looking.

Then there was my court reporting career that I absolutely despised because of the long, lonely hours spent transcribing dictation. I had prayed to find a more interesting and challenging job with equal or better salary. When I wasn't actively seeking employment, a company searching for creative talent approached and offered me a top selling position with their firm. Without blinking, I accepted their offer and the career switch was one of the best things that's ever happened to me. Why couldn't I trust God the same when it came to finding a mate?

Those amazing insights brought different sober-minded understandings to the forefront. What if God had allowed me to have my way? What if I had married one of the guys I once thought I couldn't live without? Based on what folks back home tell me, if I'd settled for Jerry, he's cheated on his wife so many times she threatened to hang him by the seat of his britches if she ever found him in bed with another woman. And had I committed my life to one of my other old flames, I would have been a widow at a very young age because Donnie blew his brains out when he lost his last job.

Granted, all of my dating relationships weren't compost. Actually, there were more good men than bad entering and exiting my life; however, none evolved into marital bliss. And the one thing I gained from the losses was a wealth of experience and knowledge on how to become a better partner and person. Was that it? Had God been preparing me? Maybe that was the answer to my unwed question. Through all the dating nightmares and relationships that left me brokenhearted, I had not only been shown my own faults and awakened to areas that needed improvement, I had eliminated the men I didn't want and become more certain of the type of guy with whom I wanted to spend eternity.

Here I was thinking most couples had been served a lifelong dish of true love and happiness, but I was beginning to discover how contaminated the plates of some really were. Of course, I didn't seek people out to interview, but when an opportunity presented itself, I would ask men and women individually about their marriage just to satisfy my own curiosity. I was disappointed and shocked when the overwhelming majority confessed how miserable they were. Some explained they'd married too young and stayed together for the sake of their children. Others were either having affairs or contemplating adultery.

Women who'd become physically ill because of an unhealthy marriage refused to leave because they were then faced with having to live independently and were not financially capable of doing so. Men who'd accumulated wealth throughout their years of marriage didn't want to part with the fortunes a divorce would demand. In order to meet their needs and fill a void, they admitted to having "girls on the side," as one man blatantly spoke it.

All I knew is I didn't want any of the above to ever be me. I wanted to say -- with conviction -- that I was with the man God intended for me to marry and that my husband was delivered with God's stamp of approval. In wrapping up my conversations with these various married individuals, I'd always ask one final question before concluding: "Did you seek God's guidance before exchanging vows?" Inevitably, the unhappy couples not only responded negatively, but looked as though I were a space alien when I challenged them with that surprise. It was never my intention to catch anyone off guard or make them feel uncomfortable. Really, that was my own personal way of deciphering the folks who'd invited the Lord into their lives and sought His will for them against those who chose to follow their own path. The more information the unhappily married men and women supplied, the more convinced I was that there is a secret formula to finding a partner and I had been living it: Waiting on God and seeking His will.

Fruit ripens and flowers bloom in due season; so it is with love buds, they blossom in God's perfect timing. When compatible companionship seems beyond reach, one of my favorite passages can be found in Habakkuk, 2:2-3: And the Lord said to me, "Write my answer on a billboard, large and clear, so that anyone can read it at a glance and rush to tell the others. But these things I plan won't happen right away. Slowly, steadily, surely, the time approaches when the vision will be fulfilled. If it seems slow, do not despair, for these things will surely come to pass. Just be patient! They will not be overdue a single day!"

Not only do we need to thank God for the gifts He's supplied us, we also need to thank Him for the atrocities He's saved us from. We could be struggling single parents, abused wives, bankrupted emotionally and financially from divorce, or wrestling to survive the most miserable marriage. God will never embarrass or disappoint us. He is not early, nor is He late. God is always on time so in the Lord delight, and Don't Rush Mr. Right!

 Written by Kathryn Kaufmann. The above article may not be cut, pasted, forwarded, copied or reused.

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