Skip to main content

Love in the Peace Corps


I joined the Peace Corps because I wanted to connect with the rest of the world, to see life from the perspective of the oppressed, to spread joy and wonder and curiosity to new places. I did not join, in other words, to find a girlfriend.

Why was it then, that as soon as I walked into my hotel in Philadelphia, I felt like a college freshman? I couldn't get through my first elevator ride without my heart-rate increasing and my breath shortening.

The feeling returned during our introductory meetings: the nervousness, the flurry of disordered thinking that accompanied moments of eye contact.

Damn you, body. Why must you sabotage everything good in this world?

I talked this over with my friend Ted on day one in Morocco. I was prepared for the bugs and dirt and cultural difficulties that come with Peace Corps, but nothing could prepare me for the onslaught of charming, independent-minded, attractive girls that I would be meeting throughout those first weeks. He agreed. It was eerie how many quality girls Peace Corps brings in. And here we were just a couple of dumbstruck schmucks.

Nearly a year into the experience, and I've managed to avoid a relationship. Yes, avoid, because saying that I've failed at finding a relationship is too gloomy. In some ways, I'm happy for this arrangement, as it has afforded me the opportunity to really sink into my community, to invest my surplus emotional currency in folks right here in my village. 

On the other hand, I still hang onto those crushes from PST and CBT phase. I cannot deny it - there are a few women who, when they call, give me that chemical rush:  O love, thou makest a fool of the wise, a lunatic of the levelheaded, a besotted booby of a Peace Corps Volunteer.

I love it that they exist, really, because it provides an extra incentive to do something really awesome with my service. Never miss a chance to showboat.

To all of those PCVs out there pierced by Cupid's darts, happy Valentine's Day.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Jesus, Lover of my Soul

An old friend and spiritual mentor of mine left a comment on my last "Religious Conversation" Post . It provoked so much thought that I wanted to share it with everybody, because I know quite a few of my religious friends are reading this, and I know quite a few of you who would make a similar statement. Here it is: There is an element in this conversation that is being overlooked (at least, I presume). There is an aesthetic beauty and, more, an affection, which Steven appears to have for God. This is not illogical; in fact, all human beings exhibit it for something. It may be subjective, and it is not conclusive, but it is completely logical. And I can't imagine an argument that would refute it. It is something like a man saying, "I love my wife. I appreciate her many virtues and charms; I believe her to be the woman most worthy of my affection and lifelong commitment." If I say this and someone were to say to me, "But EVERY man says that of his bride!
9 comments
Older Posts »

How Many Will Enter Heaven?

Check out this quote I found online: "[C]onsider this fact: fewer than 20% of people actually think they are going to hell. And yet, in answering that question, Jesus says in Matthew 7 that FEW pass through the gate that leads to eternal life. 80% doesn't sound like few to me... do some of us have the wrong idea?" There are a number of problems with this quote. First of all, you it is assuming that "few" refers to the current ratio of professing Christians to non-Christians. What's to say that Jesus isn't referring to the entire population of all the earth over all time? In that case, it's entirely plausible that 80% of people now are really Christians, as long as there are still few total Christians when all is said and done. Maybe it applies only to the people in the crowd listening to Jesus. Or, it could refer to something else entirely (as I believe). Jesus was talking to a specific people living in a specific time. We cannot decontextualize his
11 comments
Older Posts »

After Summer Sosltice

my very first priority for the day was to sleep in as late as possible. when my foul roommate woke me up I had to shift to priority number two: be as comfortable as possible - normal routine be damned. Upon shuffling my way into the kitchen, I discovered a moth, wet-plastered to a dirty pan. "I feel your pain, buddy." Sitting on the couch next to a glass of water, I wish I could devise a way to get the water in me without having to move my arms or head. My vacant glazed gaze gathers itself toward a brochure on the coffee table:Tips 4 Teens - Alcohol Abuse I laugh (only mentally) and for a moment, the shaking stops. Jesus, it's good to be alive.
7 comments
Older Posts »