Do you pray for love?

What I said to the Love Gods in Taiwan

When Pecko first suggested that she, Annelise and I visit the “love temple” in Taiwan it was a no brainer. It seemed like the perfect comedic bit for the three of us single friends on a girl’s trip together.

Leading up to it, we joked about how the reason we had to pray for boyfriends was that we were nearly thirty years old and still buying plushie animal keychains for our purses. I quipped about how Hinge was so bad we had to go straight to the gods. But once we were there at Taipei Xia Hai City God Temple, it didn’t feel like a bit anymore. Suddenly, I wasn’t fucking around.

Everyone at the temple was stoic, focused, and earnest. I don’t know what I expected: An influencer filming a Come with me to the love temple TikTok? (I’m sure this exists and I refuse to search it).

I understand now why people go to church. I felt so moved by the sight of people, of all ages, earnestly praying; quietly and methodically following a ritual. Everyone was here for the same reason, asking for love out in the open. It moved me and it made me sick. We began the ritual and I became frantic internally as I realized I didn’t know how to pray. Here we were, all the way in Taipei, and I didn’t know how to ask the gods for love. I literally started with Hi Gods, thank you for being here.

plushie bag charms

As I made my way through the temple I remembered what the guy with the cowboy accent, whom I’m not supposed to talk to anymore, told me on one of our dates that lasted nine hours: You know what your problem is? You’re faithless.

We were sitting in my living room, the soft glow of my Ikea lamp casting a glow around him and I laughed in his face, You’re 100% right. That’s what I am, I’m faithless. I don’t believe in anything anymore.

In a way so much of why we couldn’t date came down to this—also the fact that he annoyed the shit out of me and I egged it on because it was still charming for some toxic reasons I can’t get into. He was dogmatic about everything. He thought the Industrial Revolution could explain any modern issue. Americans needed to eat more sugar and stop taking pills. He preached that intimacy, even holding hands, was sacred and had powerful consequences. Sex wasn’t something to be casual about—at least at our age. Although not especially religious, he was Jewish and referenced the Bible as much as the Industrial Revolution but had also studied the Quran. He said he listened to the call to prayer every day from his apartment and the last time we were on the phone he did a 45 minute reading for me from the I Ching. He believed in so much, including the girl he started seeing around the same time he met me whom he was actually pursuing a relationship with.

I didn’t believe that if we slept together it would jinx everything between us. I didn’t believe in God (not the way he did at least) and I wasn’t sure what I believed about love anymore. But I did believe the other girl was probably a better fit for him. And I believed I was right about everything—especially after he abandoned his faith and slept with me anyways.

But after all of that, here I was a few weeks later suddenly with my nonbeliever’s tale between my legs asking the gods for the thing that all movies, books and songs are written about. The thing I keep labeling as optional. The thing that you actually have to have so much delusional faith in if you’re going to see it through.

me making a joke about being single and wanting love, when all i do on this newsletter anymore is talk about being single and wanting love.

The ritual consists of multiple steps including: making an offering of sweets (I did Ferrero Rocher chocolates and gummy bears), lighting incense in some embers, praying to a series of gods and then another three, and drinking a particular tea.

For the first prayer you face the street and just tell the gods your contact information: address, email, and phone number. I like this part because it seemed practical—they weren’t just hearing your prayers, they needed a way to reach you!

As we began the rest of the ritual I listened to Pecko’s translations closely. Once we started we weren’t supposed to ask each other questions or wait for each other in the different rooms of the temple. We had to go it alone. Doing otherwise was considered taboo.

I was hyper vigilant of everything that could go awry in the ritual. When my third incense stick didn’t burn all the way I felt I was holding back tears until the man who worked there came around with a lighter and relit it for me. I guess the embers were only so crucial to the ritual. When I had to pray to the three gods in the next room, I asked the woman who was guiding me three times to confirm what order I was supposed to go in. And when they gave us the final talisman to keep in our wallets I decided I wasn’t going to buy a new wallet after all because I wasn’t sure if switching it out would affect the talisman’s efficacy. For someone who is not religious, I was devout about the whole thing.

And for the entire duration of the ritual I fought the urge to ask, Is it possible for this to backfire? Could I accidentally curse myself? I was more afraid of messing it up than I was excited about actually finding love. I think that is part of my problem overall—that I am convinced there is a “right” way to find and maintain love and that I’m always going to fumble through it.

While I prayed, I found myself saying over and over again to each god, I promise I will be good, I won’t squander it. I will be a good wife, a good mother, a good daughter and I will make a nice life. I won’t be selfish. I won’t waste it. I promise. Maybe this is a part of my problem too: that I ask for love like I am begging for mercy. I think every man I’ve dated has been intimidated or spooked by my pleas. I can only hope the gods are different.

After the ritual was over I told Pecko and Annelise to go shop without me. I wanted to sit on the steps next to the temple and write in my notebook. I watched other people pray outside the temple and felt calm again.

I’m sure a lot of people quietly pray for love. But it felt more vulnerable to do it here in the open. You couldn’t be afraid to own it.

I think a lot of us are afraid to admit to wanting to be loved or of asking for it outright. It’s been shamed and beaten out of us with phrases like If he wanted to he would or the nauseating cliche It happens when you aren’t looking.

When men ask me what I’m looking for, I say I’m not looking for anything in particular. I’m happy, I date for fun. If someone great came along that would be wonderful but I’m not seeking anything out. I say I am ok with possibly never getting married, that I don’t know if I want to anymore, but I also have a folder in my Instagram that has Vivienne Westwood wedding dresses saved to it regularly and I can’t seem to write about any other topic but love for this newsletter.

I see this in all my peers too. So many of my friends refuse to download a dating app or are hesitant to pay for the premium version of the app because doing so feels desperate. Everyone says they wish they could just meet someone organically like their parents met, like people do in romcoms. I made vision boards with some friends and we all put some form of love on them. A friend told me she decided last year to date but didn’t download any apps and consequently didn’t go on any dates.

We are all manifesting and putting it out into the universe that we want to find love but we become so prickly or stubborn about asking for it outright. I can’t speak for anyone else but I know my own hang ups come down to my lack of faith. And the fact that my one personal dogma is that love works for some people and for others it’s a big headache. I fear that the Gods could probably smell this on me.

After the temple, I texted the boy with the cowboy accent. I told him I remembered what he had said and how I’d gotten frantic. He told me I was fine, curses didn’t work that way. I swear, he is dead serious when he says these kinds of things.

At another point in the trip, Annelise, Pecko and I visited Shifen where you can select lanterns and paint your wishes on them before releasing them into the sky. There are different colors on the lantern panels and each color represents a different wish: health, wealth, love, family, dreams coming true etc. Looking at the list I saw there wasn’t a lantern that included both love and health. I’d have to choose between the two. Health seemed the obvious choice—especially as I had a medical emergency last year. I had to choose health. But I also wanted to choose love. Was I going to give up my health for love? Again?

Just then, Pecko pointed out a multi-colored lantern that included all of the manifestations. It seemed too good to be true, that you didn’t have to choose, that you could have it all. But I asked for it anyways, I chose to believe, and on my lantern wrote out “love” and “good men.” I asked for it in dark black ink that anyone around me could read. And then I let it go into the sky above us.

my lantern.