Oh, the woes and wonders of being a single woman.
I’m halfway through reading “Why Is There a Man and He’s Not Mine”, a book by my co-staff* ate Orpah Marasigan.
Why Is There a Man and He’s Not Mine is a fun, witty, easy read brimming with transparency.
Whereas many people, unfortunately including many people from the Christian community, brush off “singleness” issues, often with an air of condescension or even shame (a sad reality which merits an entire blog post or even a book), ate Orpah approaches them with style and honesty.
Her down-to-earth attitude allows the reader to explore with her the challenges a single woman faces. On the other hand, this also allows us to rejoice with her victories!
I believe Why is There a Man will speak to single women from the entire age spectrum.
For the record, I’m twenty one. Still, a lot of the things she wrote resonated with me. I actually feel I got a life-hack out of this. Well, to be specific, I feel like I got a lovelife-hack. Heh.
For a twenty-one year old like me only starting to look at the possibilities of opening her heart to the wonderful adventure of love and relationships, this book is a treasure-chest, a feast, a harvest.
And yes, all those men wondering how the female brain and heart works will definitely benefit from reading this too!
My highlight so far is Chapter 9: Anatomy of a Wounded Heart, where ate Orpah recounts her painful experiences with men – men who caused her pain and damage, which eventually and inevitably contributed to how she deals with men at present.
She tells stories of hurt, of pain, of men who “killed” parts of her feminine soul. I can feel her grief, and as I read, I grieve with her.
I also grieved for myself. I could not help but think of all the men in my life that consciously or unconsciously killed my feminine soul. They are few (thank God), but the damages were done.
Well, I’m off to read the rest of it. Hope you can get a copy.
*I have to say, calling ate Orpah my “co-staff” or “colleague” gives me that surreal feeling. You see, I was a staff kid. My parents were missionaries with PCCC too. But now, I’m on staff too, and so I get a thrill when I call these senior staffs my “colleagues” – these people twice my age, some of whom even carried and babysat me when I was a kid!