The rest of the semester was a blur. Finals and projects were intermixed with dress shopping and cake tasting. We set an initial wedding date for August, but decided we'd rather get married in July. Wedding planning went into overhaul as my Mom began redecorating and re-landscaping. My brother would be getting married in June, and both of us were planning backyard receptions at my parents' place. I knew I needed to find a dress before I left Utah for the summer because temple-ready dresses just aren't found in southern California.
My mom flew into town one weekend and we did what we do best: we shopped. We hit every bridal store from Spanish Fork to Salt Lake. I was terrified that we wouldn't find a wedding dress before she had to leave, and I knew I couldn't make the decision alone. After a long day of trying on what felt like hundreds of dresses, I still hadn't found THE ONE. We had one last store to try in Salt Lake. It was small and boutique-ish (interpretation: tiny inventory) so I didn't set my hopes very high. Between the two of us, we found four or five dresses to try, and I entered a dressing room to begin the fashion show.
Three dresses in, I still hadn't found anything worthwhile. The thought crossed my mind that maybe I was the problem, not the dress. No wedding dress was going to magically transform me into something I wasn't, and until I fully understood that, I was never going to find a dress. Still... if I didn't feel beautiful in my wedding dress, I knew it wasn't going to work. My mom zipped up dress number 4 as I sighed and turned to look in the mirror.
My heart stopped. This was it. This was the dress. THE dress. It was simple, with a dropped waist and a square neck. The skirt was full, but not too full. It was white satin, except for a wide sash around the waist, which was a deep crimson. When the saleswoman confirmed I could get the sash in other colors, I was ecstatic as I envisioned a cream sash against the white. I turned to my mom and could tell she was thinking the same thing. This dress was made for me. It was sophisticated, it was conservative, it was elegant, it was... $1300?!!! I stopped breathing when I saw the price tag. WHAT?? I swallowed hard, then took a deep breath and tried to hide my disappointment.
"You know, on second thought, I think we should keep looking."
My mom protested. She insisted that if I loved this dress like she thought I loved it, then I should get it. But that price... I just couldn't do it. My mom told me how she was engaged to my dad, she had found her perfect dress, but it was a little more than she had wanted to spend. To this day she hates the wedding dress she ended up with and wishes she had bought the dress she loved. Although I appreciated her empathy and desire to make me happy, I still wasn't ready to drop so much cash on a dress I would wear only once. I decided I would keep this dress as a last resort.
A very last resort.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
The proposal
The next two weeks seem to drag by. Although we considered ourselves officially engaged, we didn't want to make any announcement until we had a ring. I had absolutely no idea what I wanted in an engagement ring. Luckily, Jeff did. In fact, he and his buddies had an unnatural obsession with engagement rings. They knew the four C's by heart, and each had their favorite cut and band style picked out. I thought I wanted a white gold ring, but it turns out that white gold was not what I thought it was. We took a trip to the jewelers, where I acquired an education about diamonds and rings.
We quickly decided on a cut, but it took a little more work to agree on a size. I didn't want anything flashy, but Jeff insisted we get something big enough that I wouldn't want a new ring in a year. We went back and forth, me starting small and he starting big, until we finally settled on something in the middle. The jeweler showed me a diamond at our selected size, pointing out the imperfections in it that made it personal. No other diamond was like it. It was unique and special, just like our marriage would be. It was a corny analogy, but I fell for it. "I want that one," I said.
The rest of the details fell into place, but it was going to be a week or so before the ring was ready. I felt a twinge of disappointment that it would take so long. It was killing me not to be able to tell my roommates. I hadn't told my parents yet either, but I wasn't quite as anxious to tell them. I was barely 20, and I knew they would think I was too young (despite the fact that my mom was 19 when she got married).
Every day I would pester Jeff, asking him if the ring was ready yet. "Not yet," he would tell me, not giving any more information than that. I didn't understand all the secrecy. I figured that since I already knew we were getting married, there wouldn't be a formal proposal. He would just hand me the ring and that would be it. Eventually I was able to pry a date out of him: the ring would be ready on Friday. I just had to make it to the weekend.
Thursday night we were together (as we were every night those days). We had to stop by his dad's office to pick up some papers, when Jeff got a phone call from his mom. She had called to tell him that his sister had not made her high school drill team. She was pretty upset by it, so his mom was going to take her out for ice cream. Jeff relayed the conversation to me, then asked if I wanted to join them.
"I don't know, Jeff. This was a big deal to your sister, and I don't know if she wants me there right now."
"Of course she does. Besides, she's going to be your sister, too, so I think you should go be with her."
"Are you sure? I think I might be intruding."
"Don't be silly. You can take my car down, then I'll come down later with my dad and meet you at the house."
It didn't occur to me then how convenient the whole situation was. I should have seen straight through it. But I didn't.
I did as he suggested and took his car to meet his mom and sister for ice cream. After ice cream, I drove to his parent's house, while his mom and sister "ran an errand." Yes, I was still clueless. I pulled into the driveway and walked in the front door. The house was dark, except for some dim light coming from the kitchen. I peered around the corner and saw two candles on the counter, next to a basket of bright white daisies. Finally, it clicked.
I looked around for Jeff, and he suddenly appeared from behind the corner. He lead me to a chair, where I sat and waited anxiously for what was coming next. He knelt in front of me (on two knees, not one) and pulled out a white box.
Wait... white box? Why is it white? It's supposed to be black! Fuzzy black velvet! How is this possible? I can't be proposed to with a white box! It's just not right! It's... it's...
At that moment Jeff opened the box. There was a light inside of it, which shone down on the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen. All thoughts of black versus white ring boxes left, and all I could think about was the gorgeous ring in front of me, and the amazing guy holding it. He carefully removed the ring from the box and lifted my left hand from my lap.
"Carly... Ruth. Will you marry me?"
A smile as wide as my mouth would allow spread across my face. "Yes!"
He then slid the ring over my finger. Or at least he tried. My knuckle had other plans. "Um, I don't think it fits."
"Of course it does," I retorted. "They sized me for it." I grabbed the ring, feeling like a stepsister from Cinderella, trying to shove my over sized foot into a petite glass slipper. I pulled and twisted and pushed and pryed until the ring finally slid over my knuckle and into place on my finger. I would have a bruise for the next three days to show for it, but I didn't care. I had a ring. I had a fiance. It was official.
We quickly decided on a cut, but it took a little more work to agree on a size. I didn't want anything flashy, but Jeff insisted we get something big enough that I wouldn't want a new ring in a year. We went back and forth, me starting small and he starting big, until we finally settled on something in the middle. The jeweler showed me a diamond at our selected size, pointing out the imperfections in it that made it personal. No other diamond was like it. It was unique and special, just like our marriage would be. It was a corny analogy, but I fell for it. "I want that one," I said.
The rest of the details fell into place, but it was going to be a week or so before the ring was ready. I felt a twinge of disappointment that it would take so long. It was killing me not to be able to tell my roommates. I hadn't told my parents yet either, but I wasn't quite as anxious to tell them. I was barely 20, and I knew they would think I was too young (despite the fact that my mom was 19 when she got married).
Every day I would pester Jeff, asking him if the ring was ready yet. "Not yet," he would tell me, not giving any more information than that. I didn't understand all the secrecy. I figured that since I already knew we were getting married, there wouldn't be a formal proposal. He would just hand me the ring and that would be it. Eventually I was able to pry a date out of him: the ring would be ready on Friday. I just had to make it to the weekend.
Thursday night we were together (as we were every night those days). We had to stop by his dad's office to pick up some papers, when Jeff got a phone call from his mom. She had called to tell him that his sister had not made her high school drill team. She was pretty upset by it, so his mom was going to take her out for ice cream. Jeff relayed the conversation to me, then asked if I wanted to join them.
"I don't know, Jeff. This was a big deal to your sister, and I don't know if she wants me there right now."
"Of course she does. Besides, she's going to be your sister, too, so I think you should go be with her."
"Are you sure? I think I might be intruding."
"Don't be silly. You can take my car down, then I'll come down later with my dad and meet you at the house."
It didn't occur to me then how convenient the whole situation was. I should have seen straight through it. But I didn't.
I did as he suggested and took his car to meet his mom and sister for ice cream. After ice cream, I drove to his parent's house, while his mom and sister "ran an errand." Yes, I was still clueless. I pulled into the driveway and walked in the front door. The house was dark, except for some dim light coming from the kitchen. I peered around the corner and saw two candles on the counter, next to a basket of bright white daisies. Finally, it clicked.
I looked around for Jeff, and he suddenly appeared from behind the corner. He lead me to a chair, where I sat and waited anxiously for what was coming next. He knelt in front of me (on two knees, not one) and pulled out a white box.
Wait... white box? Why is it white? It's supposed to be black! Fuzzy black velvet! How is this possible? I can't be proposed to with a white box! It's just not right! It's... it's...
At that moment Jeff opened the box. There was a light inside of it, which shone down on the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen. All thoughts of black versus white ring boxes left, and all I could think about was the gorgeous ring in front of me, and the amazing guy holding it. He carefully removed the ring from the box and lifted my left hand from my lap.
"Carly... Ruth. Will you marry me?"
A smile as wide as my mouth would allow spread across my face. "Yes!"
He then slid the ring over my finger. Or at least he tried. My knuckle had other plans. "Um, I don't think it fits."
"Of course it does," I retorted. "They sized me for it." I grabbed the ring, feeling like a stepsister from Cinderella, trying to shove my over sized foot into a petite glass slipper. I pulled and twisted and pushed and pryed until the ring finally slid over my knuckle and into place on my finger. I would have a bruise for the next three days to show for it, but I didn't care. I had a ring. I had a fiance. It was official.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
The next day
The following day I woke up with a smile on my face. I felt so peaceful and excited. The doom and gloom that had been lingering in the background for so long was gone. It is difficult to explain the reassurance that I felt. It wasn't necessarily a confirmation that Jeff was THE one, although I'll admit I was hoping for something like that. It was more that I was ready to MAKE him THE one. We were two imperfect people who wanted to commit to spending eternity together, come what may. I wanted to experience my joys and fears with him along side me. I knew there would be difficult days or weeks, but we would be able to make it through. I loved him, he loved me, and our stubbornness would get us through the rest. I couldn't wait to see him again.
Jeff's sister had a choir performance that evening, so we made plans to attend with his family. He didn't mention our conversation from the previous night as we drove to the church that would host the event. We sat holding hands on a pew in the back, giggling quietly as we were prone to do in reverent settings. His parents raised suspicious eyebrows as they sat beside us, but didn't say anything. Even though nothing had been formally decided or announced, they could tell there was something different.
After the concert, we met back at Jeff's parents' house for dessert. We arrived a few minutes before his family and entered the dark house alone. I hopped up on to the counter, and Jeff slid up next to me. Slowly he turned so we were facing each other.
"So..." he started slowly.
"Yes?"
"You said I should ask you again tomorrow."
"You're right. I did say that."
"Well, it's tomorrow."
"You're right."
"So...?"
"Are you going to ask me?"
"Will you marry me?"
I grinned, hoping my answer was evident. "Yes." Short, straight-forward, to-the-point. It was probably the first answer of that type I'd ever given him.
He smiled back, laughed a little, and kissed me, just in time for his sister to walk in the garage door. We tried to hide our smiles, since I had asked him not to mention this to his family just yet.
Jeff walked over to his sister and put his arm around her. "Nice job on your concert!"
"Smooth. Nice work changing the subject," I thought. He always was smooth. That's why I was going to marry him.
Jeff's sister had a choir performance that evening, so we made plans to attend with his family. He didn't mention our conversation from the previous night as we drove to the church that would host the event. We sat holding hands on a pew in the back, giggling quietly as we were prone to do in reverent settings. His parents raised suspicious eyebrows as they sat beside us, but didn't say anything. Even though nothing had been formally decided or announced, they could tell there was something different.
After the concert, we met back at Jeff's parents' house for dessert. We arrived a few minutes before his family and entered the dark house alone. I hopped up on to the counter, and Jeff slid up next to me. Slowly he turned so we were facing each other.
"So..." he started slowly.
"Yes?"
"You said I should ask you again tomorrow."
"You're right. I did say that."
"Well, it's tomorrow."
"You're right."
"So...?"
"Are you going to ask me?"
"Will you marry me?"
I grinned, hoping my answer was evident. "Yes." Short, straight-forward, to-the-point. It was probably the first answer of that type I'd ever given him.
He smiled back, laughed a little, and kissed me, just in time for his sister to walk in the garage door. We tried to hide our smiles, since I had asked him not to mention this to his family just yet.
Jeff walked over to his sister and put his arm around her. "Nice job on your concert!"
"Smooth. Nice work changing the subject," I thought. He always was smooth. That's why I was going to marry him.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
A Leap of Faith
Exactly one week later Jeff and I sat in his car again. The date was February 29, 2004; it was a leap year. Strange things seem happen on that extra day once every four years and this was no exception.
The scene was much the same as the week before: we had spent the morning at church, the afternoon with Jeff's family, and we were now parked in "our spot," awaiting the pending discussion.
"So," Jeff began, "how has this week been?"
"Better than I expected." I replied.
"Really?" I couldn't help but smile at the eagerness in his voice.
My thoughts turned to the prior week. I recalled the afternoons we had spent together, completely void of any tension caused by wondering what the future would hold. I felt I could talk to him about anything, and I realized that I wanted to always be able to talk to him about anything and everything. By acting as though the decision to be together was behind us, I had been able to focus on our relationship and give it the attention and commitment it would need to endure through the years, not just the semester. And through it all, I had felt a wonderful sense of calm and happiness. Never once had anxiety or doubt entered into the picture.
"Yes, Jeff. It was absolutely wonderful-- the best week we've had to date."
"I thought so, too," he responded quietly. He was looking down at his hands, but I could see the grin on his face. When he looked up at me, his eyes were glistening ever so slightly.
"Carly, you know that I love you. I love everything about you and I love being with you. The thought of losing you is heart-wrenching, but the thought of having you forever brings me joy and happiness I didn't know was possible. This past week has been amazing. I've been able to drop my defenses and actually believe that this is it. That you are it. That you are the last person I will ever date, ever kiss, every love in this way."
At this point the tears were streaming down my face as well. I could hardly speak; the love I felt for him was so overwhelming. For a while we just sat there, crying and smiling and laughing together. If we hadn't been so emotional, it would have been hilarious. I slid as far as I could on my seat so that I was halfway on the armrest and embraced him. We sat that way for a long time, cherishing the moment and letting the mood linger. Finally, I reluctantly pulled back and looked into Jeff's face.
"So what do we do now?"
"Well, you said this was a good week. Was it good enough to continue indefinitely?" I let his question sit for a moment, evaluating it's meaning.
"What exactly are you asking?"
"I'm just asking if this week has been enough for you to make a decision about the rest of our lives."
"I... I don't know. I think so. I don't know."
"Well, thanks. That helps a lot." His sarcasm carried all the hurt and hopelessness that I had heard in his voice so many times before. I didn't want him to feel that way anymore. I was tired of being flaky and indecisive. This was it. I was going to make a choice, once and for all. I was either going to take it or leave it and never look back. This week had been good-- better than good. It had been perfect. It had been everything I had ever hoped for and dreamed of. What else could I ask for? What more was I waiting for? We'd only been dating for just over 4 months, but once you know this is the one... what's the point of waiting? With a burst of energy, I turned to face Jeff with a huge smile on my face.
"Let's get married," I blurted.
"Wha-- are you sure?"
"I'm sure. Are you sure?"
"Yes, I-- I just wasn't expecting-- what the heck. Let's get married!"
He leaned over and kissed me, figuratively and literally sealing the deal. I pushed on his chest after a moment, whispering, "There is one condition, however."
"What's that?"
"Ask me again tomorrow."
The scene was much the same as the week before: we had spent the morning at church, the afternoon with Jeff's family, and we were now parked in "our spot," awaiting the pending discussion.
"So," Jeff began, "how has this week been?"
"Better than I expected." I replied.
"Really?" I couldn't help but smile at the eagerness in his voice.
My thoughts turned to the prior week. I recalled the afternoons we had spent together, completely void of any tension caused by wondering what the future would hold. I felt I could talk to him about anything, and I realized that I wanted to always be able to talk to him about anything and everything. By acting as though the decision to be together was behind us, I had been able to focus on our relationship and give it the attention and commitment it would need to endure through the years, not just the semester. And through it all, I had felt a wonderful sense of calm and happiness. Never once had anxiety or doubt entered into the picture.
"Yes, Jeff. It was absolutely wonderful-- the best week we've had to date."
"I thought so, too," he responded quietly. He was looking down at his hands, but I could see the grin on his face. When he looked up at me, his eyes were glistening ever so slightly.
"Carly, you know that I love you. I love everything about you and I love being with you. The thought of losing you is heart-wrenching, but the thought of having you forever brings me joy and happiness I didn't know was possible. This past week has been amazing. I've been able to drop my defenses and actually believe that this is it. That you are it. That you are the last person I will ever date, ever kiss, every love in this way."
At this point the tears were streaming down my face as well. I could hardly speak; the love I felt for him was so overwhelming. For a while we just sat there, crying and smiling and laughing together. If we hadn't been so emotional, it would have been hilarious. I slid as far as I could on my seat so that I was halfway on the armrest and embraced him. We sat that way for a long time, cherishing the moment and letting the mood linger. Finally, I reluctantly pulled back and looked into Jeff's face.
"So what do we do now?"
"Well, you said this was a good week. Was it good enough to continue indefinitely?" I let his question sit for a moment, evaluating it's meaning.
"What exactly are you asking?"
"I'm just asking if this week has been enough for you to make a decision about the rest of our lives."
"I... I don't know. I think so. I don't know."
"Well, thanks. That helps a lot." His sarcasm carried all the hurt and hopelessness that I had heard in his voice so many times before. I didn't want him to feel that way anymore. I was tired of being flaky and indecisive. This was it. I was going to make a choice, once and for all. I was either going to take it or leave it and never look back. This week had been good-- better than good. It had been perfect. It had been everything I had ever hoped for and dreamed of. What else could I ask for? What more was I waiting for? We'd only been dating for just over 4 months, but once you know this is the one... what's the point of waiting? With a burst of energy, I turned to face Jeff with a huge smile on my face.
"Let's get married," I blurted.
"Wha-- are you sure?"
"I'm sure. Are you sure?"
"Yes, I-- I just wasn't expecting-- what the heck. Let's get married!"
He leaned over and kissed me, figuratively and literally sealing the deal. I pushed on his chest after a moment, whispering, "There is one condition, however."
"What's that?"
"Ask me again tomorrow."
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
You Gotta Have Faith
After I finished ranting in my journal, I put my pen down and lay down on my bed. With my eyes closed, I felt a tear escape and run down my face. I hated being so confused and indecisive. If this is what dating and courtship entailed, I wasn't sure I wanted it. Not yet, anyway. I tried to remember how I felt before I met Jeff. Was I happy then? Was I happy now? I didn't know what I was. There were definitely times when I was happy. And even at my most conflicted moments, I wouldn't say I was unhappy. I wondered how I would feel if things ended with Jeff. Just the thought of it put my stomach in knots. It would be horrible.... at first. But would I recover, eventually? There was only one way to find out.
I decided it was time to propose a "break." Though I, myself, had never been on a break before, I'd seen it plenty of times on TV and in the movies. It had ruined Ross and Rachel's relationship, but it just might save mine. I had heard once that you don't marry the one you can live with, you marry the one you can't live without. I needed to know that I couldn't live without Jeff. The more I thought about this idea, the more peace and calm I felt. It had been so long since I had felt that way, and I was relieved to finally have a plan in place. When I met up with Jeff tomorrow, I would propose a break. It might only be for a week, but maybe longer. I just knew that I needed some time alone.
I decided it was time to propose a "break." Though I, myself, had never been on a break before, I'd seen it plenty of times on TV and in the movies. It had ruined Ross and Rachel's relationship, but it just might save mine. I had heard once that you don't marry the one you can live with, you marry the one you can't live without. I needed to know that I couldn't live without Jeff. The more I thought about this idea, the more peace and calm I felt. It had been so long since I had felt that way, and I was relieved to finally have a plan in place. When I met up with Jeff tomorrow, I would propose a break. It might only be for a week, but maybe longer. I just knew that I needed some time alone.
. . .
The next evening we spent with Jeff's sister and her family who were visiting from out of town. It was a fun evening and I tried not to ruin it by dwelling on the upcoming talk I would be initiating. We left earlier than usual and I wondered if I would have the courage to carry my plan through. We drove in silence while I frantically searched for the right words to say. Instead of taking me to my apartment, we drove to one of our favorite spots to sit and talk. He pulled over and muted the music, and it occurred to me that I might not be the only one with an agenda for tonight's conversation.
With a sigh of relief, I decided to let him begin. It would be much easier to voice my thoughts after he said his mind. For nearly five minutes he sputtered and mumbled without making much sense. I smiled empathetically; I knew exactly how he felt. Once he finally started talking in full sentences, everything came out in a flood. He told me that he had been as confused and unsure about committing to eternity as I was. There were even times he'd wanted to give up. But he also spoke of what he wants his marriage to be and how he has so much optimism for his marriage and for his wife.
I listened to everything he said, absorbing it all and waiting. When he finished, he sat back and put his hands behind his head. Slowly he turned and looked at me. "What are you thinking?" he asked.
I exhaled. Then I inhaled. And then I confessed. I explained that I didn't know how I was supposed to feel and how I wished someone would make this decision for me.
"You know," Jeff broke in, "this is really a matter of faith."
"Faith?" I echoed.
"Yes. We have to have complete faith in our relationship, or else doubt will creep in. I know Heavenly Father has confidence in you. He knows that you can and will make the right decision."
He paused while I let his words settle. I had never though about having faith is us. Maybe all my problems were just a lack of faith.
"You know," Jeff began again, "anything that is founded in Christ cannot fail. So maybe if we base our relationship in Christ, and use him for direction and guidance, then our doubts and uncertainties will fade away. Again, it all comes down to faith. The adversary will try to make us question things we once felt sure of, but where faith is, doubt cannot exist."
"I'm not sure I can have that much faith without your help," I explained. "It seems that whenever we decide to just 'wait and see,' I always end up confused and lost. We need to have a plan; something to work at or work towards. Something that I can have faith in."
I thought I had created the perfect build up to presenting my "break" plan. But Jeff proposed an entirely different plan before I could get two words out:
"Why don't we act as though we are going to get married." My head shot to the left as he spoke.
"W..w..what?"
"We'll treat our relationship as though we are working towards marriage-- like we're engaged. And we'll have faith that we are going to succeed."
I waited for the sinking feeling, for the despair and turmoil that I usually felt when the M-word was used. But it didn't come. Instead I felt happy... and calm... and peaceful... and excited all at the same time. I knew this was something that I could have faith in and really want to succeed.
"Ok. I... think... that... might... work." I spoke slowly and thoughtfully, smiling at the turn of events. "You want to know something funny? I was going to propose we take a break tonight."
"Oh gosh, it's a little early to put that kind of pressure on a break, don't you think?"
I chuckled, wondering if Jeff realized he had just suggested we pretend to be ENGAGED.
"Oh yeah. Definitely too early."
With a sigh of relief, I decided to let him begin. It would be much easier to voice my thoughts after he said his mind. For nearly five minutes he sputtered and mumbled without making much sense. I smiled empathetically; I knew exactly how he felt. Once he finally started talking in full sentences, everything came out in a flood. He told me that he had been as confused and unsure about committing to eternity as I was. There were even times he'd wanted to give up. But he also spoke of what he wants his marriage to be and how he has so much optimism for his marriage and for his wife.
I listened to everything he said, absorbing it all and waiting. When he finished, he sat back and put his hands behind his head. Slowly he turned and looked at me. "What are you thinking?" he asked.
I exhaled. Then I inhaled. And then I confessed. I explained that I didn't know how I was supposed to feel and how I wished someone would make this decision for me.
"You know," Jeff broke in, "this is really a matter of faith."
"Faith?" I echoed.
"Yes. We have to have complete faith in our relationship, or else doubt will creep in. I know Heavenly Father has confidence in you. He knows that you can and will make the right decision."
He paused while I let his words settle. I had never though about having faith is us. Maybe all my problems were just a lack of faith.
"You know," Jeff began again, "anything that is founded in Christ cannot fail. So maybe if we base our relationship in Christ, and use him for direction and guidance, then our doubts and uncertainties will fade away. Again, it all comes down to faith. The adversary will try to make us question things we once felt sure of, but where faith is, doubt cannot exist."
"I'm not sure I can have that much faith without your help," I explained. "It seems that whenever we decide to just 'wait and see,' I always end up confused and lost. We need to have a plan; something to work at or work towards. Something that I can have faith in."
I thought I had created the perfect build up to presenting my "break" plan. But Jeff proposed an entirely different plan before I could get two words out:
"Why don't we act as though we are going to get married." My head shot to the left as he spoke.
"W..w..what?"
"We'll treat our relationship as though we are working towards marriage-- like we're engaged. And we'll have faith that we are going to succeed."
I waited for the sinking feeling, for the despair and turmoil that I usually felt when the M-word was used. But it didn't come. Instead I felt happy... and calm... and peaceful... and excited all at the same time. I knew this was something that I could have faith in and really want to succeed.
"Ok. I... think... that... might... work." I spoke slowly and thoughtfully, smiling at the turn of events. "You want to know something funny? I was going to propose we take a break tonight."
"Oh gosh, it's a little early to put that kind of pressure on a break, don't you think?"
I chuckled, wondering if Jeff realized he had just suggested we pretend to be ENGAGED.
"Oh yeah. Definitely too early."
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Confused and conflicted
The next morning I woke up feeling more refreshed and carefree than I had in months. It was one of those mornings when everything seemed extra bright and cheerful. Even the birds seemed to be less obnoxious and more surreal. I got dressed extra early and spent the hour before church documenting the previous day's travelogue in my journal. When Jeff came to pick me up, I practically skipped to his car. I almost expected the strangers driving past us on the road to break into spontaneous song about how wonderful it is to be in love.
We drove to Jeff's hometown to attend his friend's mission homecoming, after which we dashed over to Jeff's parents' ward so he could speak with them in their Sacrament meeting. The afternoon was spent at his parents' house, basking in the Sabbath sun and enjoying being with good company. Eventually the combination of warmth and full stomachs took it's toll as we lay on the floor to take a quick nap. True to his character, Jeff fell asleep within minutes. I, on the other hand, lay there quietly for a while, thinking about how nice it felt to lie in Jeff's arms. I felt safe and protected and loved. I reflected on some of my favorite memories over the past few months: long talks in his car, afternoons studying together in my living room, late night walks holding hands.
Suddenly, without any warning, a thought popped into my head: I wanted to marry Jeff! I could feel my throat tighten and my eyes water as I let the thought linger for a moment. I recognized this feeling: it was the same feeling I got when I felt the love and concern of my Heavenly Father. Was this the confirmation I had been hoping for? Was this the Spirit telling me to stop fighting the love for Jeff that was growing inside of me? I didn't know exactly what it all meant, but I knew this was good. I wouldn't feel this way if I was on the wrong track.
I decided not to tell Jeff just yet. I wanted to keep this to myself for a few days, just to be sure it was real. But I was dying to tell him. I couldn't wait to see the smile on his face when I told him I was ready to consider marriage. I couldn't help but smile just thinking about it. His happiness was now my happiness.
We drove to Jeff's hometown to attend his friend's mission homecoming, after which we dashed over to Jeff's parents' ward so he could speak with them in their Sacrament meeting. The afternoon was spent at his parents' house, basking in the Sabbath sun and enjoying being with good company. Eventually the combination of warmth and full stomachs took it's toll as we lay on the floor to take a quick nap. True to his character, Jeff fell asleep within minutes. I, on the other hand, lay there quietly for a while, thinking about how nice it felt to lie in Jeff's arms. I felt safe and protected and loved. I reflected on some of my favorite memories over the past few months: long talks in his car, afternoons studying together in my living room, late night walks holding hands.
Suddenly, without any warning, a thought popped into my head: I wanted to marry Jeff! I could feel my throat tighten and my eyes water as I let the thought linger for a moment. I recognized this feeling: it was the same feeling I got when I felt the love and concern of my Heavenly Father. Was this the confirmation I had been hoping for? Was this the Spirit telling me to stop fighting the love for Jeff that was growing inside of me? I didn't know exactly what it all meant, but I knew this was good. I wouldn't feel this way if I was on the wrong track.
I decided not to tell Jeff just yet. I wanted to keep this to myself for a few days, just to be sure it was real. But I was dying to tell him. I couldn't wait to see the smile on his face when I told him I was ready to consider marriage. I couldn't help but smile just thinking about it. His happiness was now my happiness.
. . .
Five days later, I wrote the following in my journal:
I can't seem to figure things out with Jeff. Last week I thought I had finally figured it out. I had stopped writing to [the missionary] and essentially stopped thinking about him. For the first time since we have been dating, I honestly believed that I could and would marry Jeff. It felt right and I had the desire to be with him. It felt wonderful. I told him how I felt, and he seemed happy. But I could tell he was a bit reserved, and suddenly I felt desperate that I might lose him. Tonight I found out why he held back.
This week I talked to my mom and she told me to make sure I hadn't just learned to love Jeff. At first I was bitter that she would suggest such a thing, but then I began to wonder if it were true. Now I am back where I started - afraid to commit, afraid to break up, afraid to give what I have.
Tonight he asked if things were still getting better. "They have to be getting better or else this will never last," he told me. I admitted to him that I'm still trying to figure things out and he laughed shortly because he would be very surprise if I had figured everything out. I apologized for being so indecisive and changing my mind so often. He said, "I've learned not to take anything you say at face value." So that is why he wasn't as happy as I expected at my announcement last week. I wish I could mean everything I say, but I can't. I feel awful that he has to put up with me.
I love Jeff, I really do. It is hard for me to think of living without him. In him I see the ideal father for my children. I love his family. So why don't I feel that burning desire to be with him? I want to... I really do, but I just can't. I feel as though I am in a dream world and that I don't know how to get out of it. I need someone to take the blinders off and either show my what I've got or what I'm missing. I wish I had some answers.
I can't seem to figure things out with Jeff. Last week I thought I had finally figured it out. I had stopped writing to [the missionary] and essentially stopped thinking about him. For the first time since we have been dating, I honestly believed that I could and would marry Jeff. It felt right and I had the desire to be with him. It felt wonderful. I told him how I felt, and he seemed happy. But I could tell he was a bit reserved, and suddenly I felt desperate that I might lose him. Tonight I found out why he held back.
This week I talked to my mom and she told me to make sure I hadn't just learned to love Jeff. At first I was bitter that she would suggest such a thing, but then I began to wonder if it were true. Now I am back where I started - afraid to commit, afraid to break up, afraid to give what I have.
Tonight he asked if things were still getting better. "They have to be getting better or else this will never last," he told me. I admitted to him that I'm still trying to figure things out and he laughed shortly because he would be very surprise if I had figured everything out. I apologized for being so indecisive and changing my mind so often. He said, "I've learned not to take anything you say at face value." So that is why he wasn't as happy as I expected at my announcement last week. I wish I could mean everything I say, but I can't. I feel awful that he has to put up with me.
I love Jeff, I really do. It is hard for me to think of living without him. In him I see the ideal father for my children. I love his family. So why don't I feel that burning desire to be with him? I want to... I really do, but I just can't. I feel as though I am in a dream world and that I don't know how to get out of it. I need someone to take the blinders off and either show my what I've got or what I'm missing. I wish I had some answers.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Valentine's Day
February 14th loomed just days away. Of all the many (ahem) boys I had dated, all three short relationships had included Valentine's Day in their span. My experience told me that this holiday of LOVE was usually a disappointment. My girlish hopes placed expectations so high that they couldn't help but be let down. It's not that my significant others had been scumbags who had forgotten the holiday and tried to make takeout Chinese and a dying dandelion pass for a romantic evening or anything of the sort. In fact, it was the planning that always made the night so exhausting. I remember how awkward I felt when my high school boyfriend picked me up for a date on Valentine's. He wouldn't tell me where we were going so I wasn't sure how to dress or act. I felt silly eating out at a fancy restaurant (we were only 16) and he took me to a play that had more adult humor than I would have liked.
Then there was last year, when my freshman college boyfriend and I had foregone an evening alone to join the rest of our friends at a school dance. It was nice, but still not what I had always imagined. And being one of the few steady couples among a crowd of first-daters, the evening felt trivial and inconsequential when it should have been significant and memorable.
So despite the deepening level of my relationship with Jeff, I wasn't looking forward to the big V-day as much as, say, my roommates.
February 14 arrived on a Saturday. Early in the morning, the first of our apartment's flowers arrived. My roommate's boyfriend had sent her a beautiful spring bouquet in a modest glass vase. It had a mix of purples and pinks and blues. No roses. I thought they were absolutely beautiful. I began to get a little excited. I wouldn't mind a bouquet like that. Something fresh and fragrant that I could have on my desk while I studied. My outlook began to brighten.
I knew Jeff was coming around 4:30 to pick me up that evening, so I made sure to get my grocery shopping and errands done early so I could shower and get ready for the night. I rushed around town to get everything done and pulled back into my parking garage just before noon. I loaded both arms up with my grocery bags and hobbled towards my apartment. Turning the knob as best as I could with two spare fingers, I kicked the door in and dumped my bags on the table.
"Um, Carly?" my roommate called from the front room. "I think you should go check your desk."
"Why?" I asked, confused.
"I just think you should."
Intrigued, I quickly put my perishables in the fridge and walked through the living room towards the bedrooms. My roommate watched me with a smirk, and I couldn't help but smile as I wondered what would be waiting for me. Images of tulips and irises flashed across my mind as I opened the door to my bedroom. What I saw there stopped me dead in my tracks. I quickly shut the door.
"What the heck is that?" I asked aloud. From the other room my roommate started laughing. Cautiously I opened the door again, peering around the corner to my small desk. Sitting on top of the laminate oak surface sat a foot-and-a-half-tall vase. And in that vase were 12 of the tallest, fullest, reddest roses I had ever seen. Next to the vase sat a bottle of my favorite perfume and a CD with Jeff's handwriting scrawled across it: Carly's Love Songs. I stood there in shock, staring at the most extravagant floral arrangement I had ever seen. I wondered how much this must have cost. I knew by now that Jeff liked to spoil me, but this was beyond anything I could have anticipated. I also worried about my roommates. We all had boyfriends and would most likely all receive flowers before the day was up. I was embarrassed by my flashy bouquet and hoped my roommates wouldn't see it as a ostentatious gesture. But at the same time, I was giddy and flattered to have received such an extraordinary gift.
I spent the next few hours trying to get my school work done before the big date that night, but between the 3-foot bouquet that was always in my peripheral and my new CD that filled the room with gooey love songs, I couldn't focus very well. Finally I shut my books, put away my papers, and started rummaging through my closet for the perfect I'm-spending-Valentine's-Day-with-my-serious-boyfriend shirt. An hour later, I was dressed, primped, and primed for a night on the town. Right on cue, Jeff's knock sounded at 4:29 pm. I grabbed my coat and new CD and we were off.
First stop was the Macaroni Grill. After we had been seated, Jeff suggested we make things a little interesting.
"I think we should order for each other."
"What?" Oh boy, this did not sound like a good idea at all.
"It'll be fun. You order for me and I'll order for you. It will be a test to see how well we know each other's tastes."
Luckily, it was an Italian restaurant so there were very few things on the menu that didn't look appealing to me. But I was nervous to give up my choosing power. I was also nervous to order for Jeff. Our sushi experience had told me he wasn't a garbage disposal and there was a possibility I could order something he would hate.
"C'mon. Humor me," Jeff's egging overpowered my objections.
"[Sigh.] Ok."
We ordered, then sat back and talked about who knows what while waiting for our food to arrive. After a few minutes, the bus boy brought out our two steaming plates. I had ordered Jeff the honey balsamic chicken; he had ordered me a creamy pasta dish. For a few minutes we ate in silence, then we politely asked how the other liked their meal. "It's good," we both replied unconvincingly. Another few bites and Jeff admitted ordering for each other maybe wasn't the best idea. I suggested we trade, and he compromised by giving me a hefty portion of his in exchange for an equally sized sample of mine.
After dinner Jeff asked me what I wanted to do. This confused me because he had acted as though he had the entire night so carefully planned. A bit of prodding revealed that he had planned dinner early to make sure we weren't late to the next event, and now we had a little bit of time to kill.
We got in the car and started driving. Being a local, Jeff knew the area better than I did. Before I knew it, I was completely turned around and had no idea where we were. We listened quietly to the CD Jeff had made for me, enjoying the ambiance of an approaching sunset. Soon Jeff turned off the road onto an empty dirt lot. The lot sat on a hillside and from it we could see the entire valley below us, including all of Utah lake and the mountain range beyond it. It was beautiful and very romantic.
I had brought my camera with me, so we balanced it on the roof of Jeff's car and put the self-timer to work. As the flash went off, the thought crossed my mind that this would be a good picture for a wedding reception video. I hurriedly pushed the notion from my head, wondering where it had come from.
Apparently we had killed enough time, because Jeff opened the door for me and I slid back into the car. We drove back down the hillside and found our way to State St. A few minutes later Jeff pulled into the parking lot of a local theater. He knew I loved musicals and had gotten us tickets to Swing. He handed the usher our tickets and we were lead up some stairs to the balcony level. I noticed there was something different about the seats on this level: they were extra wide. I wondered if Jeff had bought us seats for the plus size section when it hit me. They were loveseats. I would have "aww"-ed aloud if we were alone, but instead I just smiled up at Jeff, hoping he would see how tickled I was by his sweet thoughtfulness.
The quality of the play was so-so, but being able to sit nestled up against Jeff's side with his arm around my shoulders made it one of the best shows I have ever seen. When it was over, I lingered in the theater chair, not wanting the night to end. For the first time, I had really enjoyed Valentine's Day. It had been fun, but meaningful; comfortable, but exiting; romantic, but relaxed. I contemplated the idea of spending every Valentine's like this. For the first time, thinking about a future with Jeff didn't create a sinking feeling in my stomach. On the contrary, I felt warm and, dare I say, happy! I didn't want to create any false hopes for Jeff, so I kept these feelings to myself, but I was thrilled at the possibilities they created.
That night as I lay in bed, I said a silent prayer over and over again.
"Please, let me feel the same way tomorrow. Please, oh please."
Then there was last year, when my freshman college boyfriend and I had foregone an evening alone to join the rest of our friends at a school dance. It was nice, but still not what I had always imagined. And being one of the few steady couples among a crowd of first-daters, the evening felt trivial and inconsequential when it should have been significant and memorable.
So despite the deepening level of my relationship with Jeff, I wasn't looking forward to the big V-day as much as, say, my roommates.
February 14 arrived on a Saturday. Early in the morning, the first of our apartment's flowers arrived. My roommate's boyfriend had sent her a beautiful spring bouquet in a modest glass vase. It had a mix of purples and pinks and blues. No roses. I thought they were absolutely beautiful. I began to get a little excited. I wouldn't mind a bouquet like that. Something fresh and fragrant that I could have on my desk while I studied. My outlook began to brighten.
I knew Jeff was coming around 4:30 to pick me up that evening, so I made sure to get my grocery shopping and errands done early so I could shower and get ready for the night. I rushed around town to get everything done and pulled back into my parking garage just before noon. I loaded both arms up with my grocery bags and hobbled towards my apartment. Turning the knob as best as I could with two spare fingers, I kicked the door in and dumped my bags on the table.
"Um, Carly?" my roommate called from the front room. "I think you should go check your desk."
"Why?" I asked, confused.
"I just think you should."
Intrigued, I quickly put my perishables in the fridge and walked through the living room towards the bedrooms. My roommate watched me with a smirk, and I couldn't help but smile as I wondered what would be waiting for me. Images of tulips and irises flashed across my mind as I opened the door to my bedroom. What I saw there stopped me dead in my tracks. I quickly shut the door.
"What the heck is that?" I asked aloud. From the other room my roommate started laughing. Cautiously I opened the door again, peering around the corner to my small desk. Sitting on top of the laminate oak surface sat a foot-and-a-half-tall vase. And in that vase were 12 of the tallest, fullest, reddest roses I had ever seen. Next to the vase sat a bottle of my favorite perfume and a CD with Jeff's handwriting scrawled across it: Carly's Love Songs. I stood there in shock, staring at the most extravagant floral arrangement I had ever seen. I wondered how much this must have cost. I knew by now that Jeff liked to spoil me, but this was beyond anything I could have anticipated. I also worried about my roommates. We all had boyfriends and would most likely all receive flowers before the day was up. I was embarrassed by my flashy bouquet and hoped my roommates wouldn't see it as a ostentatious gesture. But at the same time, I was giddy and flattered to have received such an extraordinary gift.
I spent the next few hours trying to get my school work done before the big date that night, but between the 3-foot bouquet that was always in my peripheral and my new CD that filled the room with gooey love songs, I couldn't focus very well. Finally I shut my books, put away my papers, and started rummaging through my closet for the perfect I'm-spending-Valentine's-Day-with-my-serious-boyfriend shirt. An hour later, I was dressed, primped, and primed for a night on the town. Right on cue, Jeff's knock sounded at 4:29 pm. I grabbed my coat and new CD and we were off.
First stop was the Macaroni Grill. After we had been seated, Jeff suggested we make things a little interesting.
"I think we should order for each other."
"What?" Oh boy, this did not sound like a good idea at all.
"It'll be fun. You order for me and I'll order for you. It will be a test to see how well we know each other's tastes."
Luckily, it was an Italian restaurant so there were very few things on the menu that didn't look appealing to me. But I was nervous to give up my choosing power. I was also nervous to order for Jeff. Our sushi experience had told me he wasn't a garbage disposal and there was a possibility I could order something he would hate.
"C'mon. Humor me," Jeff's egging overpowered my objections.
"[Sigh.] Ok."
We ordered, then sat back and talked about who knows what while waiting for our food to arrive. After a few minutes, the bus boy brought out our two steaming plates. I had ordered Jeff the honey balsamic chicken; he had ordered me a creamy pasta dish. For a few minutes we ate in silence, then we politely asked how the other liked their meal. "It's good," we both replied unconvincingly. Another few bites and Jeff admitted ordering for each other maybe wasn't the best idea. I suggested we trade, and he compromised by giving me a hefty portion of his in exchange for an equally sized sample of mine.
After dinner Jeff asked me what I wanted to do. This confused me because he had acted as though he had the entire night so carefully planned. A bit of prodding revealed that he had planned dinner early to make sure we weren't late to the next event, and now we had a little bit of time to kill.
We got in the car and started driving. Being a local, Jeff knew the area better than I did. Before I knew it, I was completely turned around and had no idea where we were. We listened quietly to the CD Jeff had made for me, enjoying the ambiance of an approaching sunset. Soon Jeff turned off the road onto an empty dirt lot. The lot sat on a hillside and from it we could see the entire valley below us, including all of Utah lake and the mountain range beyond it. It was beautiful and very romantic.
I had brought my camera with me, so we balanced it on the roof of Jeff's car and put the self-timer to work. As the flash went off, the thought crossed my mind that this would be a good picture for a wedding reception video. I hurriedly pushed the notion from my head, wondering where it had come from.
Apparently we had killed enough time, because Jeff opened the door for me and I slid back into the car. We drove back down the hillside and found our way to State St. A few minutes later Jeff pulled into the parking lot of a local theater. He knew I loved musicals and had gotten us tickets to Swing. He handed the usher our tickets and we were lead up some stairs to the balcony level. I noticed there was something different about the seats on this level: they were extra wide. I wondered if Jeff had bought us seats for the plus size section when it hit me. They were loveseats. I would have "aww"-ed aloud if we were alone, but instead I just smiled up at Jeff, hoping he would see how tickled I was by his sweet thoughtfulness.
The quality of the play was so-so, but being able to sit nestled up against Jeff's side with his arm around my shoulders made it one of the best shows I have ever seen. When it was over, I lingered in the theater chair, not wanting the night to end. For the first time, I had really enjoyed Valentine's Day. It had been fun, but meaningful; comfortable, but exiting; romantic, but relaxed. I contemplated the idea of spending every Valentine's like this. For the first time, thinking about a future with Jeff didn't create a sinking feeling in my stomach. On the contrary, I felt warm and, dare I say, happy! I didn't want to create any false hopes for Jeff, so I kept these feelings to myself, but I was thrilled at the possibilities they created.
That night as I lay in bed, I said a silent prayer over and over again.
"Please, let me feel the same way tomorrow. Please, oh please."
Friday, February 6, 2009
A Minor Roadblock
A week after school resumed, Jeff took me out again for my birthday, this time just the two of us. We ate at a restaurant of my choice then drove up to Rock Canyon, the location of our first kiss. It was too cold in January to go visit the rock we had sat on before, but we parked in a spot with a nice view and enjoyed the heated car as we relived past moments and talked about the future.
We started playing a game where he would ask me a question, I would answer, then I would ask him a question and so on. At first the questions were trivial: What is your favorite food? Favorites place to visit? Favorite music group? It didn't take long for the questions to become more serious. I asked him why he loved me. He provided a list of reasons, then asked me the same question with a twist.
"Do you really love me or do you just say that because it seems like an appropriate response?" It should have been an easy answer, but I hesitated a bit too long and he sensed that. I knew that on some level of love, I did love him. I cared very much about him, I loved being with him, and I often contemplated marrying him. Surely that counted for something. But was I in love with him?
I tried to explain my internal conflict to him (in a less direct fashion), but as I spoke, I could see the hurt of my words reflected in his eyes. Once I had finished, I sat back in my seat, wondering if there was anything I could do or say to heal the wounds I had just created. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. He was the first to break the silence.
"I want you to know," he paused, taking time to choose his words carefully, "that I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He paused again. He was speaking very slowly and I knew that he was not saying these things lightly. "I think that, maybe, it is time for you to fast and pray and decide if you want to spend the rest of your life with me. Because if you don't, then I can't stand to fall more in love with you than I already am."
Immediately tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. I felt like I was going to vomit. Was he really going to set an ultimatum, just like that? It was now or never? I knew it wasn't fair, what I had been doing. I hadn't wanted to close any doors, so I had strung him along, toying with him mercilessly, all the while writing to my missionary as though he were the only man in my life. But if Jeff was suggesting marriage, well, I just couldn't commit to that.
I went home that night feeling like I'd been hit by a bus. I wondered how much longer I could drag out our relationship. A few weeks, maybe? Even that felt cruel. If I really, truly felt this didn't have any potential, then I should end it now. If I cared about Jeff at all, I owed him at least that much. I hoped a night's sleep would make me feel better, but I felt even worse the next morning. I moped around all day, wishing I could undo the last night's conversation. So much for a happy birthday. Around 5 pm my phone rang. It was Jeff, wondering if I had time to go to dinner with him. A few hours later we sat on the floor of his apartment. He began:
"I have to tell you, I've felt terrible all day for springing that on you last night."
"Really? I've felt just awful, too."
"I want you to know that I've been thinking, and I don't think either one of us is ready for marriage right now. I promise I will drop the subject right now and not bring it up again until we're both ready to talk about it."
I felt as though someone had lifted 100 lbs off my shoulders. I felt like singing, I was so relieved. We could go back to where we were before this whole thing had come up. All was well... until the next weekend.
A school holiday had created a 3-day weekend, so we decided to take an impromptu road trip to Vegas. The four boys from Jeff's apartment and I piled into an SUV and made the trek south. One afternoon while on our trip Jeff and I managed to break away for an hour or so. After we had been talking for a bit I could tell that he was going to kiss me. He came within inches of my face and whispered,
"W...what?" I stammered, thinking I must have heard him wrong.
"I'm marrying you," he said again. Then he started to kiss me. I pushed him away, confused and startled. Why was he bringing this up again? Didn't he remember the effect this topic had had last week? And why wasn't he responding to my shock? "What's wrong?" he asked, as nonchalantly as if he was asking what kind of drink I'd like to order. This is wierd, I thought.
"What did you say?" I demanded.
"I asked what was wrong."
"No, before that."
He thought for a moment. "Oh, I asked if I was hurting you."
"You did?"
"Yes, well I think that was the last thing I said."
"Was that all you said?"
"Yeah, what did you think I said?"
I let out a huge gust of air and started laughing. Jeff must have thought I had gone insane. It was several minutes before I could calm down enough to tell him what I thought he had said. A brief second of horror filled his eyes as he understood why I had been so terrified, then he, too, began to laugh.
"I said I wouldn't bring it up again until we were ready. You don't think a week has made that much of a difference, do you?" he asked, poking me playfully.
He wouldn't let the joke die the rest of the trip, but I didn't mind because it brought back a lightheartedness we had sorely been missing. I still wasn't sure about spending the rest of eternity with Jeff, but I sure wouldn't mind another semester.
We started playing a game where he would ask me a question, I would answer, then I would ask him a question and so on. At first the questions were trivial: What is your favorite food? Favorites place to visit? Favorite music group? It didn't take long for the questions to become more serious. I asked him why he loved me. He provided a list of reasons, then asked me the same question with a twist.
"Do you really love me or do you just say that because it seems like an appropriate response?" It should have been an easy answer, but I hesitated a bit too long and he sensed that. I knew that on some level of love, I did love him. I cared very much about him, I loved being with him, and I often contemplated marrying him. Surely that counted for something. But was I in love with him?
I tried to explain my internal conflict to him (in a less direct fashion), but as I spoke, I could see the hurt of my words reflected in his eyes. Once I had finished, I sat back in my seat, wondering if there was anything I could do or say to heal the wounds I had just created. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. He was the first to break the silence.
"I want you to know," he paused, taking time to choose his words carefully, "that I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He paused again. He was speaking very slowly and I knew that he was not saying these things lightly. "I think that, maybe, it is time for you to fast and pray and decide if you want to spend the rest of your life with me. Because if you don't, then I can't stand to fall more in love with you than I already am."
Immediately tears pooled in the corners of my eyes. I felt like I was going to vomit. Was he really going to set an ultimatum, just like that? It was now or never? I knew it wasn't fair, what I had been doing. I hadn't wanted to close any doors, so I had strung him along, toying with him mercilessly, all the while writing to my missionary as though he were the only man in my life. But if Jeff was suggesting marriage, well, I just couldn't commit to that.
I went home that night feeling like I'd been hit by a bus. I wondered how much longer I could drag out our relationship. A few weeks, maybe? Even that felt cruel. If I really, truly felt this didn't have any potential, then I should end it now. If I cared about Jeff at all, I owed him at least that much. I hoped a night's sleep would make me feel better, but I felt even worse the next morning. I moped around all day, wishing I could undo the last night's conversation. So much for a happy birthday. Around 5 pm my phone rang. It was Jeff, wondering if I had time to go to dinner with him. A few hours later we sat on the floor of his apartment. He began:
"I have to tell you, I've felt terrible all day for springing that on you last night."
"Really? I've felt just awful, too."
"I want you to know that I've been thinking, and I don't think either one of us is ready for marriage right now. I promise I will drop the subject right now and not bring it up again until we're both ready to talk about it."
I felt as though someone had lifted 100 lbs off my shoulders. I felt like singing, I was so relieved. We could go back to where we were before this whole thing had come up. All was well... until the next weekend.
A school holiday had created a 3-day weekend, so we decided to take an impromptu road trip to Vegas. The four boys from Jeff's apartment and I piled into an SUV and made the trek south. One afternoon while on our trip Jeff and I managed to break away for an hour or so. After we had been talking for a bit I could tell that he was going to kiss me. He came within inches of my face and whispered,
"I'm marrying you."
"W...what?" I stammered, thinking I must have heard him wrong.
"I'm marrying you," he said again. Then he started to kiss me. I pushed him away, confused and startled. Why was he bringing this up again? Didn't he remember the effect this topic had had last week? And why wasn't he responding to my shock? "What's wrong?" he asked, as nonchalantly as if he was asking what kind of drink I'd like to order. This is wierd, I thought.
"What did you say?" I demanded.
"I asked what was wrong."
"No, before that."
He thought for a moment. "Oh, I asked if I was hurting you."
"You did?"
"Yes, well I think that was the last thing I said."
"Was that all you said?"
"Yeah, what did you think I said?"
I let out a huge gust of air and started laughing. Jeff must have thought I had gone insane. It was several minutes before I could calm down enough to tell him what I thought he had said. A brief second of horror filled his eyes as he understood why I had been so terrified, then he, too, began to laugh.
"I said I wouldn't bring it up again until we were ready. You don't think a week has made that much of a difference, do you?" he asked, poking me playfully.
He wouldn't let the joke die the rest of the trip, but I didn't mind because it brought back a lightheartedness we had sorely been missing. I still wasn't sure about spending the rest of eternity with Jeff, but I sure wouldn't mind another semester.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Crazy Little Thing Called Love
Finals ended, and I headed home for the Christmas break. I knew I would miss Jeff while I was home, but my brother had just come home from a mission and I was anxious to see him again. Besides, my family was coming back up to Utah to ski the week after Christmas so I would be able to spend New Years with Jeff and his family.
While I was home the week of Christmas I did a lot of thinking. My parents tried to give me advice, but they had never met Jeff so I had a hard time listening to any of it. I finally decided that I hadn't been giving our relationship a fair chance. As long as I continued writing to the missionary, I wasn't 100% committed to Jeff. I determined I would stop writing to him... soon. I didn't want to Dear John him over Christmas, but I would definitely do it in the next few weeks. I consoled myself by saying it wasn't necessarily a permanent cut off--if things didn't work out with Jeff I would begin writing again--but for now, I needed to eliminate that distraction.
Christmas came and went, and my family made the 10-hour drive to a rental cabin near the ski resorts in Utah. I had them drop me off at my apartment on the way up so I could pick up my snowboard and car. I didn't see any reason why I needed to rush up to meet them, so I called Jeff and let him know I was back. Then I waited impatiently for him to come over. I turned on the TV, but nothing grabbed my attention so I turned it back off. I rummaged through the cupboards to see if there was anything worth eating, but nothing looked appetizing so I sat back down on the couch. I hadn't realized until then how anxious I was to see Jeff again. It had only been a week, but I'd really missed him. When a knock came at the door, I practically ran across the room to open it. I swung open the door and there he stood: tall and confident, with a tiny smirk on his face. I jumped into his arms, hugging him long and tight before I even said a word.
"Wow," he smiled. "Hello to you, too."
"Hi," I backed away sheepishly.
"How was your drive?" he asked.
"Long. How was your Christmas?"
Before long we were in our usual spots on the sofa: my head on his shoulder, his arm around my back. We talked about our holidays and families and when we'd exhausted those topics, we filled the silence with kissing and hugging. I purposely lost track of time, not wanting to know how late it was and whether my family was wondering where I was. I didn't want the night to end, but we were running out of things to talk about. I wanted to tell Jeff about the decision I made to stop writing to the missionary, but I knew he didn't like it when I talked about the "competition." I wanted him to say something that would indicate he, also, was willing to take the next step in our relationship, but I didn't know what that was. After several minutes of silence, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind:
"Do you love me?"
Immediately I regretted it.
Why would I ask him that? You don't ASK somebody if they love you, you WAIT until they say it on their own. What if he says no? What if he asks if I love him? Do I? Maybe... I don't know! It's too soon to know these things! Why hasn't he said anything yet?
"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I shouldn't have asked that. Please pretend I didn't say anything."
"Carly," he stopped me. "I love you so much it scares me."
His words sent my body temperature soaring. I could feel my cheeks flush, not with embarrassment, but rather with a warm glow that permeated my entire being. He loved me! I tried not to move, not to ruin the moment, but I felt like skipping and jumping and running and cartwheeling all at the same time. I relished the feeling, trying to ignore the inevitable response his words necessitated.
I was feeling slightly guilty for tricking him into telling me he loved me instead of letting him tell me on his time line. If I then didn't tell him I loved him back it would be a pretty mean trick. But this was one area where I didn't want to exaggerate the truth. I knew I cared for him more deeply than I could say, but love? It was a strong word.
For two very long minutes I searched deep inside of myself, trying to see if I could reciprocate Jeff's love. I thought about how hard it was to be apart from him. I thought about the times we'd laughed together, and all the times he'd been there while I cried. I thought about the conversations we'd had about our hopes, our plans, our passions. I thought about what it felt like to kiss him. And as I thought, my mouth opened and...
"I love you, too."
There! I'd said it. And I really meant it, too. Right then, right there, I loved him and now he knew it, too. We cuddled for a while longer before reluctantly leaving the sofa. As we said our goodbyes, we repeated the "I love you"s again, and it felt comfortable. It felt right. I fell asleep that night to the sound of Jeff's voice repeating the phrase over and over again in my head.
. . .
I spent New Years' Eve with Jeff's family and he spent New Years' Day with mine. I turned 20 on New Years' Day that year, so Jeff met my family for the first time at the restaurant I had chosen for my birthday dinner. The restaurant served Asian cuisine and my family had eaten there once before several years earlier. I had liked it then, so it seemed a good choice for that night. What I didn't know is that the ownership had changed and they now specialized in sushi. To my family this was no big deal; they all liked sushi. But I wasn't about to touch anything raw and Jeff was feeling nauseous just being there.
They sat us at a table on the floor. Jeff awkwardly tried to fit his 6'3" frame under the small table while the rest of my relatively short family sat with ease. I opened the menu, looking for anything that was cooked. My dad started rattling off sushi orders and before I knew it the table was covered in sake, hamachi, and maguro. Poor Jeff. He wanted so badly to make a good impression, so he quietly ate every piece of fish and seafood that was set before him without complaint. He was concentrating so hard on keeping the food down that he hardly said a word the whole night.
After he left that night, I asked my parents what they thought. "Well," my mom said. "If you decide to marry him, then we will learn to love him." I was stunned. I wasn't asking her to love him right then, I just wanted to know if they liked him. Granted, it wasn't really fair of me to ask them to form an opinion based on such an uncharacteristic depiction, but I'd hoped for a little more than "we will learn to love him." I sulked in my room that night, wondering if it was wrong to marry him just to make her eat her words.
*Note: Mom, I love you. We all know this is water under the bridge now and have had many good laughs over it so please just understand this is part of the story and has to be told.
They sat us at a table on the floor. Jeff awkwardly tried to fit his 6'3" frame under the small table while the rest of my relatively short family sat with ease. I opened the menu, looking for anything that was cooked. My dad started rattling off sushi orders and before I knew it the table was covered in sake, hamachi, and maguro. Poor Jeff. He wanted so badly to make a good impression, so he quietly ate every piece of fish and seafood that was set before him without complaint. He was concentrating so hard on keeping the food down that he hardly said a word the whole night.
After he left that night, I asked my parents what they thought. "Well," my mom said. "If you decide to marry him, then we will learn to love him." I was stunned. I wasn't asking her to love him right then, I just wanted to know if they liked him. Granted, it wasn't really fair of me to ask them to form an opinion based on such an uncharacteristic depiction, but I'd hoped for a little more than "we will learn to love him." I sulked in my room that night, wondering if it was wrong to marry him just to make her eat her words.
*Note: Mom, I love you. We all know this is water under the bridge now and have had many good laughs over it so please just understand this is part of the story and has to be told.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
While You Were Sleeping
Foreward
As I've been recounting the dating saga that eventually led to my marriage, I'll admit there have been fuzzy details that I've had to fudge because I simply can't remember exactly what happened. This installment is the exception. Everything in this chapter is completely true. There are some events in life that are so traumatic you can never forget them. This is one of those events.As the end of the semester approached, I saw less and less of my roommates, partly because I was spending so much time with Jeff, but also partly because they were spending so much time with their significant others. Although Jeff and I stayed out late most nights, by no means was I always the last one home. It was not uncommon for me to be home, in bed, and sleeping before one of the other girls would get back from her night out. I never stayed awake worrying about our safety; we lived in "happy valley"-- what could possibly happen?
One night as I was peacefully slumbering in bed, unconcerned and untroubled, I heard the sound of someone fiddling with something on my desk. In my drowsy subconscious, I assumed it was my roommate borrowing my laptop. I half opened my eyes and saw a dark figure standing just inches from where I lay. My first reaction was irritation that the noise was keeping me up. Why couldn't she be quieter? Any why was she using my computer anyway? She had her own sitting on her desk just a few feet away. I was too tired to address the issue, so I ignored the noise and tried to go back to sleep. After a few minutes, the noise stopped and the figure left the room.
I turned over in my bed, annoyed at the disturbance in my sleep. I was going to have to get up soon enough; I didn't want to lose any precious moments of sleep. I had just about dozed off when my roommate sat straight up in bed and called across the room, "Carly! What was that?" Her voice startled me and within seconds I was awake and alert.
"I don't know! I thought it was you!" It only took moments for my brain to put two and two together. If my roommate had been in bed this whole time, then it wasn't she that was messing around with my desk, which meant it was someone else and.... hey! Where is my computer? I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stared at the blank spot on my desk that used to house my laptop. "Where's my laptop?" My voice shook in the panic that was quickly setting in.
"Mine's missing too! Someone stole it!" My roommate was practically shouting now and I could tell she was nervous, too. She jumped out of bed and without thinking twice about what she was doing, ran across the apartment and out our unlocked front door. I followed after her, and we quickly scanned the parking lot for the escape vehicle. The complex and parking lot were silent; there was no sign of our thief. As soon as I realized the culprit and our computers were gone, I also realized how dumb we were. What if the person had been there? What did we plan on doing? Beating him up in our pajamas? I think my roommate has this epiphany at the same time, because we made eye contact and without a word bolted back into our apartment where we slammed and locked the door.
Breathing hard, we stood there in the front room, staring wildly at each other in shocked silence. After a few moments, we each found our voices and began babbling at high speeds in incoherent sentences.
"Oh my gosh! I can't believe that just happened!"
"We have to call the police!"
"I can't believe he was standing RIGHT THERE!"
"Do you think the police will be able to get our laptops back?"
"How did he get in? Was the door unlocked?"
"We could have been hurt!"
"Who was it? Was it someone we know?"
"How did he know to come straight to our room?"
"And why didn't he take the stereo, or the guitar, or all the other things here in the front room?"
"All I remember is he was really tall."
"Maybe it wasn't a burglar. Maybe it was someone playing a practical joke on us."
"Carly, Jeff is pretty tall. You don't think he would...?"
We each paused for a moment to consider it. It was a long shot, for sure, and I highly doubted it was true, but it was easier to believe that Jeff would play a trick on us than to believe a stranger had walked into our apartment, came into our bedroom, and stolen our computers while we were sleeping. Besides, it gave me an excuse to call Jeff and I desperately needed some masculine security right now. I quickly dialed his number, ignoring that fact that it was 4 am and if he hadn't played this very unprobable trick on us, he would be fast asleep.
The phone rang 7 or 8 times before he picked up. As soon as I heard the groggy roughness in his voice, I knew our practical joke theory was out the window.
"Carly?"
"Hi." Wow, I felt so stupid. What do I say? Sorry to wake you up, but I thought you might have been robbing our apartment a few minutes ago and I just wanted to call and check.
"Is something wrong?"
"Uh, well, yes... sorta... um... you weren't over here about 20 minutes ago, were you?"
"[pause] No. Why?"
"Because, well.... um.... someone was in our apartment and stole our computers," I blurted.
"What?"
"It's fine, though, sorry to wake you up. Go back to sleep."
"What do you mean someone stole your computers? From your room?"
"Yeah, while we were sleeping. Well, sort of sleeping. I half woke up and saw someone but by the time I woke all the way up he was gone."
"Wait a second. You thought maybe it was ME?"
"Well, no, not really. I just hoped it was, because it's too scary to think what it really was. I'm really sorry I woke you up. I'll see you later."
"I'm coming over."
"Really, Jeff. We're ok. We're going to call the police and--"
"I'll be there in 5 minutes."
[click]
While I had been talking to Jeff, my roommate had called the police. Within a few minutes, Jeff walked in the door, and shortly after the police arrived. Jeff sat on the couch with a comforting arm around my shoulders as the police explained there was very little they could do to track down our stolen items and we should not expect to get them back. The policeman told us that this was not an uncommon happening in college towns as there are lots of apartments which make easy targets and lots of students with expensive electronic equipment. The thief simply walks around a complex at night, testing doors until he finds one unlocked.
I began to run through the list of unrecoverable things on my laptop: my programming final project, all my photos from the past year, the CD that was in the CD drive. But it wasn't until I thought about what could have happened that I broke down in tears. The thought of a stranger in my bedroom while I slept, totally vulnerable and unprotected, was enough to give me nightmares for weeks. What if I had really woken up, not just half-opened my eyes. What would I have done? What would he have done? Was he armed?
Jeff stifled back yawns as he tried to assure me that everything would be ok. Although he appreciated the trauma of the situation, I could tell he thought I was being a tad bit more emotional than was necessary. But he stayed by me until the policeman left. I learned that day that Jeff was something special. Sure we had fun together and got along great and seemed to enjoy similar things, but he was also patient and kind and trustworthy. He was willing to help me through my troubles, even when he didn't understand what they were. He was sensitive of my needs, and put his own priorities behind mine.
From that day forward I was certain of two things:
- Jeff would be there for me no matter what.
- I would never again go to bed without checking the lock at least 6 times.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Thanksgiving
Jeff and I decided it was time that our apartments became friends. We planned a Sunday dinner cook off: the boys would make dinner and the girls would bring dessert. Determined to excel in the domestic realm that we, as woman, are supposed to have a natural advantage in, we brought not one, but two desserts: pumpkin roll and cream puffs. Jeff and crew served us pasta and "homemade" bread sticks which he later confessed were made with frozen dough. Though the food was delicious and the company was enjoyable, this would be one of the last Sunday dinners Jeff and I shared with friends.
The Thanksgiving break was fast approaching and I was looking forward to a short trip home. One of my friends was getting married and I was excited to attend her wedding. My brother and I had planned to make the 10-hour drive home together on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The only thing that could lessen my excitement was that I wouldn't see Jeff for five whole days. The day before we were supposed to leave I had my suitcase on my bed and had just started pulling clothes out of my closet to put in it. My cell phone rang and I jumped up to answer it, assuming it was Jeff.
"Hello?" I answered breathlessly.
"Hi Carly." My brother's voice answered.
"Oh, hey. What's up?"
"Well, I have some bad news."
"What's that?"
"I don't think I can go home for Thanksgiving."
"WHAT?"
"Well, I really need to get some work done and it's a long drive and I just don't think I have time to go."
To my brother, this wasn't a big deal. He was 24, almost done with school, working full-time, and had a serious girlfriend. Making it home for every single holiday just wasn't a priority. But this was only my second year at school, and I wasn't used to being away from my family around the holidays. I could feel the tears threatening to escape from my eyes.
"But... but.. it's not that long of a drive. If we leave early we can be there before dark." I frantically sought for some reason to convince him still to go.
"You can go if you want, but I just don't think I can make it."
I could hear the finality in his tone, so I hung up and quickly dialed my parents' number. "Mom? Matt says he's not coming home for Thanksgiving so I am going to drive alone." My mom kindly reminded me of my tendency to fall asleep behind the wheel and suggested it probably wasn't such a good idea. She tried to book me a flight, but being so last minute the only flights available were outrageously expensive. In defeat, I mumbled my goodbyes into the phone and set it down on my desk. I wondered what it would be like to cook and eat my own Thanksgiving meal. I had never cooked a turkey before. Was it hard? As the reality set in, I laid my head on my pillow and cried. With blurred vision I composed a text message to Jeff letting him know I wasn't going home after all. Within seconds my phone rang.
"Hello? [sniff]"
"You're not going home?"
"No, Matt said he couldn't go and my mom won't let me drive alone and there are no flights left anymore so I'm stuck here and... and... [sniff]"
"Are you ok?"
"I will be, I just need a few minutes to mope about it."
"Well, where are you going for Thanksgiving?"
"Nowhere, I guess. I'll just have to make my own Thanksgiving."
"Wrong. You're coming with me."
"Really? But, well, I don't know. I mean, it's your whole family and I don't want to intrude and--"
"You won't be intruding. My family loves guests. And they all want to meet you anyway."
"Well, ok, if you're sure. Maybe you had better ask your mom first."
"Just trust me. Now, do you want to go see a movie tonight?"
"Um, sure. I guess I don't have to finish packing anymore so I don't have anything on my agenda."
"Great. I'll be by in a half hour."
Thanksgiving morning Jeff picked me up at 10 am. As we drove to his aunt's house, Jeff gave me the quick run down of everyone who would be there: grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and cousins once removed, not to mention his parents and sister. The longer the list got, the more nervous and tense I became during the 35 minute drive. By the time we pulled into the crowded driveway, I was ready to back right out and drive home. It was an awkward stage to be meeting so many of Jeff's extended family. We hadn't even officially determined that we were exclusively dating. But I pushed my fears aside and put on the best it's-just-another-Thanksgiving-and-there's-nothing-to-worry-about face I could as I followed Jeff up the stairs and into the house. The first person to greet us was Jeff's grandpa who was standing just inside the door. After introductions were had, he told me that today I might as well be family because there are no strangers at the Thanksgiving table. Then I met 3 of Jeff's aunts, and they each in turn pointed to and rattled off the names of everyone in the room who belong to them. My head was spinning with names and faces, and I knew there wasn't a chance I would remember any of them.
After a few minutes of socializing it was time to eat. We took out seats at the longest Thanksgiving table I had ever sat at. It spanned the entire length of the family and dining room, plus a few smaller tables for the kids off to the side. There were handmade place cards at each setting and I swallowed a lump when I saw that there was even one with my name on it. I had to admit, if I couldn't be with my own family for Thanksgiving, this was as close a second as I was probably ever going to find.
We ate... and ate and ate until my eyeballs were about to pop. It seemed the food would never stop coming. Some of the foods were new to me, but most were things that tables across America were also serving that day: Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, sweet potatoes, green beans, corn, salad, fruit, rolls, jello, stuffed mushrooms, and deviled eggs. After eating, we spread out around the house, some watching movies, others playing games, others just talking. After we'd all had a chance for the food to settle, we broke out the pies. And oh my. I had never seen so many pies. There was pumpkin (of course) and banana cream and coconut cream and chocolate and lemon meringue and pecan and cheesecake and apple and strawberry and others that I can't remember now. It seemed that everyone in the room could have had an entire pie to themselves. And so we ate again until our eyeballs popped, this time trying a little bit of each variety of pie. By the time we had finished, it was all I could do to mutter my thanks as we made our way to the door. Jeff's grandpa made it a point to say goodbye to me personally. He caught my arm just before I got to the door and pulled me into a hug. "Don't be a stranger, ok?" he told me before letting me go. I nodded and smiled, too full and sleepy to say anything.
Jeff opened my door and I slid into the passenger seat so he could drive me home. The rest of the evening we sat in my apartment, alternating between talking and laughing and watching holiday specials on TV. It was comfortable and cozy. I wondered what it would be like to spend every holiday like this. It was a nice thought.
The Thanksgiving break was fast approaching and I was looking forward to a short trip home. One of my friends was getting married and I was excited to attend her wedding. My brother and I had planned to make the 10-hour drive home together on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The only thing that could lessen my excitement was that I wouldn't see Jeff for five whole days. The day before we were supposed to leave I had my suitcase on my bed and had just started pulling clothes out of my closet to put in it. My cell phone rang and I jumped up to answer it, assuming it was Jeff.
"Hello?" I answered breathlessly.
"Hi Carly." My brother's voice answered.
"Oh, hey. What's up?"
"Well, I have some bad news."
"What's that?"
"I don't think I can go home for Thanksgiving."
"WHAT?"
"Well, I really need to get some work done and it's a long drive and I just don't think I have time to go."
To my brother, this wasn't a big deal. He was 24, almost done with school, working full-time, and had a serious girlfriend. Making it home for every single holiday just wasn't a priority. But this was only my second year at school, and I wasn't used to being away from my family around the holidays. I could feel the tears threatening to escape from my eyes.
"But... but.. it's not that long of a drive. If we leave early we can be there before dark." I frantically sought for some reason to convince him still to go.
"You can go if you want, but I just don't think I can make it."
I could hear the finality in his tone, so I hung up and quickly dialed my parents' number. "Mom? Matt says he's not coming home for Thanksgiving so I am going to drive alone." My mom kindly reminded me of my tendency to fall asleep behind the wheel and suggested it probably wasn't such a good idea. She tried to book me a flight, but being so last minute the only flights available were outrageously expensive. In defeat, I mumbled my goodbyes into the phone and set it down on my desk. I wondered what it would be like to cook and eat my own Thanksgiving meal. I had never cooked a turkey before. Was it hard? As the reality set in, I laid my head on my pillow and cried. With blurred vision I composed a text message to Jeff letting him know I wasn't going home after all. Within seconds my phone rang.
"Hello? [sniff]"
"You're not going home?"
"No, Matt said he couldn't go and my mom won't let me drive alone and there are no flights left anymore so I'm stuck here and... and... [sniff]"
"Are you ok?"
"I will be, I just need a few minutes to mope about it."
"Well, where are you going for Thanksgiving?"
"Nowhere, I guess. I'll just have to make my own Thanksgiving."
"Wrong. You're coming with me."
"Really? But, well, I don't know. I mean, it's your whole family and I don't want to intrude and--"
"You won't be intruding. My family loves guests. And they all want to meet you anyway."
"Well, ok, if you're sure. Maybe you had better ask your mom first."
"Just trust me. Now, do you want to go see a movie tonight?"
"Um, sure. I guess I don't have to finish packing anymore so I don't have anything on my agenda."
"Great. I'll be by in a half hour."
. . .
Thanksgiving morning Jeff picked me up at 10 am. As we drove to his aunt's house, Jeff gave me the quick run down of everyone who would be there: grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and cousins once removed, not to mention his parents and sister. The longer the list got, the more nervous and tense I became during the 35 minute drive. By the time we pulled into the crowded driveway, I was ready to back right out and drive home. It was an awkward stage to be meeting so many of Jeff's extended family. We hadn't even officially determined that we were exclusively dating. But I pushed my fears aside and put on the best it's-just-another-Thanksgiving-and-there's-nothing-to-worry-about face I could as I followed Jeff up the stairs and into the house. The first person to greet us was Jeff's grandpa who was standing just inside the door. After introductions were had, he told me that today I might as well be family because there are no strangers at the Thanksgiving table. Then I met 3 of Jeff's aunts, and they each in turn pointed to and rattled off the names of everyone in the room who belong to them. My head was spinning with names and faces, and I knew there wasn't a chance I would remember any of them.
After a few minutes of socializing it was time to eat. We took out seats at the longest Thanksgiving table I had ever sat at. It spanned the entire length of the family and dining room, plus a few smaller tables for the kids off to the side. There were handmade place cards at each setting and I swallowed a lump when I saw that there was even one with my name on it. I had to admit, if I couldn't be with my own family for Thanksgiving, this was as close a second as I was probably ever going to find.
We ate... and ate and ate until my eyeballs were about to pop. It seemed the food would never stop coming. Some of the foods were new to me, but most were things that tables across America were also serving that day: Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, sweet potatoes, green beans, corn, salad, fruit, rolls, jello, stuffed mushrooms, and deviled eggs. After eating, we spread out around the house, some watching movies, others playing games, others just talking. After we'd all had a chance for the food to settle, we broke out the pies. And oh my. I had never seen so many pies. There was pumpkin (of course) and banana cream and coconut cream and chocolate and lemon meringue and pecan and cheesecake and apple and strawberry and others that I can't remember now. It seemed that everyone in the room could have had an entire pie to themselves. And so we ate again until our eyeballs popped, this time trying a little bit of each variety of pie. By the time we had finished, it was all I could do to mutter my thanks as we made our way to the door. Jeff's grandpa made it a point to say goodbye to me personally. He caught my arm just before I got to the door and pulled me into a hug. "Don't be a stranger, ok?" he told me before letting me go. I nodded and smiled, too full and sleepy to say anything.
Jeff opened my door and I slid into the passenger seat so he could drive me home. The rest of the evening we sat in my apartment, alternating between talking and laughing and watching holiday specials on TV. It was comfortable and cozy. I wondered what it would be like to spend every holiday like this. It was a nice thought.
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