I've been dating since I was fifteen. I'm exhausted. Where is he?

In the heartfelt and weary words of Kristin Davis, we hear the timeless cry of one who has wandered long through the desert of longing: “I’ve been dating since I was fifteen. I’m exhausted. Where is he?” Beneath the humor and exasperation lies something ancient—a lament as old as love itself. It is the voice of the seeker, the soul that has searched for connection across years and faces, only to find that love, elusive and divine, does not always come when called. Her words speak not of mere frustration but of the deep human yearning for belonging, for the one heart that will finally see and stay.

From the earliest days, poets and philosophers have spoken of this quest. In every culture, there is the myth of the soulmate, the other half for whom we are destined. The Greek philosopher Plato, in his Symposium, told the tale of humanity’s ancient division—that once we were whole, but the gods split us in two, and since then, each soul wanders the earth seeking its lost counterpart. Kristin Davis’s lament echoes this ancient myth, for in her words, one hears not only fatigue but faith—the belief that somewhere, someone exists who will bring the long journey to rest. Her exhaustion is the weariness of one who has not ceased to hope, even when the road seems endless.

But her quote also reveals a profound truth about modern love: that in an age of endless options, many have forgotten the sacred patience of connection. We rush from one face to another, searching for perfection, mistaking chemistry for destiny, and excitement for understanding. Kristin’s confession—“I’m exhausted”—is not just about failed dates, but about the burden of expectation, the emotional fatigue of seeking in others what only peace within can prepare us to find. The ancients would have said that love does not come to those who chase it, but to those who have learned to dwell in their own company.

Consider Penelope, the wife of Odysseus, who waited twenty years for her beloved’s return. While suitors filled her halls and songs filled her ears, she held fast to her heart’s truth. Her waiting was not passive but faithful—an act of strength and discernment. She did not fill her loneliness with false companionship, for she knew that not every visitor at the door is meant to enter the heart. Kristin Davis’s words, though spoken in jest, carry a similar ache: a longing not for activity, but for arrival—for the end of wandering, for the peace of being chosen and known.

Her question, “Where is he?”, is more than the cry for a lover—it is the human question. Where is the one who will understand me? Where is the purpose I was meant to find? Where is the rest from all this striving? It is the same question the prophets asked the heavens, the same one that lovers whisper to empty skies. And yet, the wise among the ancients would answer: the one you seek must first find you ready—not in exhaustion, but in wholeness. For when we tire of the endless search, when we cease chasing the image of love and begin to nurture the substance of love within ourselves, that is when destiny begins to move toward us.

The story of Ruth, from sacred scripture, embodies this truth. Widowed and poor, she did not run in search of a new love; she walked faithfully in her purpose, caring for her mother-in-law, gathering grain from the fields. And it was in that quiet labor that she was seen by Boaz, who became her partner in both love and life. The lesson endures: love is not always found through pursuit, but through presence—through living fully, honestly, and patiently until the right heart recognizes your light.

The lesson, then, is clear: do not despair in your waiting, nor measure your worth by the length of your search. The path of love is not a race, but a pilgrimage of the soul. Exhaustion is the sign not of failure, but of sincerity—you have dared to seek what is real. Yet let not the quest consume your spirit. Instead, turn inward, nourish your peace, and trust that what is meant for you will find its way. For as the sages have long taught, the heart that learns to rest becomes a beacon, drawing to itself the one who is destined to understand its rhythm.

So, dear listener, when weariness fills your voice and you find yourself echoing Kristin Davis—“Where is he?”—remember this: the journey of love is not only about finding another, but also about finding yourself along the way. Rest, but do not lose faith. For sometimes, the one you seek is on his own long road of becoming, and destiny is still weaving the moment of your meeting. Until then, find the many kinds of love that surround you—friendship, purpose, peace, creation—and let them renew your soul. For when you are no longer exhausted, but alive again, love will arrive—not as a rescuer, but as a reflection of the fullness you have already become.