3/20/2017 0 Comments When I Said Yes. . . -Part OneIt was the middle of the night and we were on the phone. Nothing unusual about that as that’s what people in relationships are accustomed to doing – what was unusual however was what occurred that night. . . . “Will you marry me?” The inquiry fell softly upon my ears and as casual as though he was asking me how the weather was. But despite its informality it was understood that the proffer wasn’t extended without some forethought – though how much, I’ll never know – and the words, as unexpected as they were, felt as though they were supposed to be spoken and it seemed that we were at the right place at the right time. Interestingly enough, I was not taken aback (or put off) by the question and my answer was just as natural as though I had expecting it all along. I said Yes . It became silent again. We hung up that evening and went to sleep and when I woke up the next morning, I was engaged. (Okay, so, technically, I was engaged the moment I said yes but it didn't seem to register until the next morning.) The memory of that time in my life is vague – perhaps due to the fact that I never wrote anything down regarding that relationship, him or that moment, as significant as it was. Perhaps because I didn’t want to remember because it makes me feel…well…odd and embarrassed in a way, about something that never saw the end of completion and something that very few know. Yet despite the lack of documentation or images, some memories, however vague they may be, never go away. This one has not, which I suppose in many ways could be the reason that I am writing about it now. I don’t know exactly quite how I felt when I awoke the next morning (once again due to the fact that I never recorded my thoughts while dating him), but quite truthfully, I don’t think I needed too (have written that is), because as far out as that incident occurred, writing renews this experience afresh and I can tell you that in 2007 at the age of 27, I was confused. I know that I was not excited. I was still trying to sort everything out including what had just happened, mainly if I was ready for such a step and of course that little thing called “love” and if it even existed – because as much as I wanted to, loving him was something I don’t think I ever did. So I’m sure that question that probably occurs to most of you all is why I ever even said Yes. We’re getting to that. Our relationship was an unusual one from the beginning considering that our entire dating experience began on a recommendation and a vote. Yes, you read that right – a vote (apparently democracy touches all points in America) A recommendation from a close friend of mine and a vote – held in the master bathroom of my parent’s home between myself, my mother, and my sister. The vote came about from a discussion that we were having about my new potential suitor and the events transpired as follows : “Who thinks that Christina should date this guy?” My mother and my sister’s hands flew up. Great – 2 to 1; I was well outnumbered on this one. I sat tight-lipped and apparently out voted, as decisions regarding my dating life were elected around a bathtub. I personally had been dead-set against talking to this young man with whom I had only had one encounter. He had been a speaker at our church recently and a close friend, in a serious and fulfilling relationship herself, was on the warpath to find me “my someone” and she was convinced that he was it. She passed me notes in the choir stand on that particular Sunday to that effect and with a polite smile, but a wrinkled nose and a firm shake of my head, I passed them right back with an emphatic “No.” When we were introduced, after service that day, he, who from all appearances seemed pleasant enough, but which in my opinion was not impressive enough, I thought nothing more of it as I excused myself from the conversation and left him speaking with my father who had joined the conversation. Yet the pressure to speak with him further continued to come; and it was decided that I should give my friend the permission to pass along my phone number. I did, aaaaannnnddd he called. I was cool (cold would probably be more accurate) when it came to conversation with him and despite the barbs shot his way, he deflected them easily. Candid in my answers to him, I told him off (on only one occasion), gave him one-word answers and disagreed with him at every turn and on practically everything he said. This did not deter him. And instead of my behavior (for I was behaving badly) being perceived as a “turn-off”, on the contrary it seemed to somehow to present to him an opportunity to only further exercise his intellectual capabilities and I, somehow became to him, as he once put it, “interesting.” I must admit that, unfortunately and to my surprise, I, after some time, found myself disarmed and this new found “interest” was no longer one-sided as through and by some act of nature, I came to like him. He was quite a unique individual with a nasal thin voice, which quite reminded me as though he came straight out of a 1960’s Dick Tracey novel and his own unique look to match with slim glasses to fit his narrow face and rest on his slim nose. He was especially fond of apple hats and had a tall lanky body and a small head to rest them upon. The relationship much like our conversations moved fast and for 3 months was primarily vernacular in nature and as illustrated earlier, it was during one of those conversations that he asked me to marry him. My brother (to this day even!) often asks me why I said “Yes” to his proposal and my answer is always the same: I figured that it were the wrong decision, I could always get out of it. ....... And I, not too long after, did just that! Click HERE for Part 2!
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