Clarity and Charity - Love Story Pt. 4

"You're going to marry him."   The voice said.

What?! 

I wasn't about to be told who to marry, not even by a voice in my own head.  Where's the choice in that??  I've always been a fierce defender of agency, so this really bothered me- which is preposterously ironic considering the thing I wanted most of all was to make the right decision,  and considering how many times I wished God would just tell me what to do-- in both love stories. In fact something like this happened to me with the first boy too and I excused it away. Silly, stubborn girl.

My roommates and I went to a fireside that Sunday night at the church.  Creighton was sitting two rows directly in front of me.  When the meeting concluded, he stood up and turned around to face us with a smile.  I wanted to duck and run.  I tried not to make eye contact, but how could I avoid it?  Instead I introduced him to my friends and let the the three of them carry the conversation while I counted the seconds until we could make our getaway. 

Creighton is not a dumb guy.  He picked up on my resistance immediately and kept his distance for a time.  But within just a few weeks, he was making regular (invited) visits to our corner house and took his place as the token male in our happy group.  We all got along rather swimmingly.  And this was just fine with me.  In fact, it was perfect.  Just as I liked it.  All the enjoyment of his company without any threat of commitment.  Lovely.  And so we went, merrily along, until one day, I was lingering with him at a mingle after church,  and out of nowhere, I actually had the thought: "I think I'll get him to ask me out today." 

Before leaving, we had a date for the following weekend. 

We went to a play in an old church-turned-theater--- the subject of which I can't recall for anything.  And afterwards, we ended up at T.G.I.Friday's for a little food.  I don't know how on earth we managed to order anything, let alone eat it, we were so lost in conversation.  There was so much to talk about- so much to say.  Just like the first time, I sat across from a boy who somehow understood where I was coming from, and that felt really good. 

This was the night when Creighton revealed a little bit more about himself and where he was coming from.  I learned that when we first met, nearly three years earlier, he had just made some major changes in his life and come back to church after a long absence. I heard the details of his story, and instead of shifting into my usual hyper-sensitive gear, found myself understanding him, and trusting who he had become because of where he had been.  I had learned a thing or two from the first boy about making hasty judgments,  and I wasn't about to repeat those mistakes.  So I listened-- very carefully.  In my memory, those two hours were wrapped up in a cozy, happy cocoon- as if we had been plucked out of our hazy lives and into this moment of absolute clarity...and charity.  Time stood still just long enough for me to open my heart a crack and begin to let him in. 

Creighton took my cue and proceeded to ask me out for the next week, and the following week, and so on.  I had a hard time maintaining the clarity of that first date and wobbled inside with my thoughts and feelings.  The more time we spent together, the more claustrophobic I became with the prospect of a serious commitment looming ahead of me.  I enjoyed spending time with him, but I wasn't smitten by any means, and that, combined with my caginess, set off the fight or flight in me.  One night, after a nice date, but seeing no reason to continue on, and not wanting to drag things out to the point of pain on either side, I decided it was time to flee.

Towards the end of the evening, I started planning in my mind what I might say to let him go gently.  I felt sure I couldn't go on with ambivalent feelings- and sure that we had dated enough to know that time wouldn't improve anything.  We came back to The Corner House and talked for a little while until I urged us to the front door so I could bid him a final farewell.  I should've done the sorry deed by this point, but hadn't figured out how to work it into our conversations yet.  We stood in the entry way and I could tell, as all girls can tell, that he had something else in mind. 

Up to this point, he had not kissed me- which was no surprise to me.  I had a thing about kissing boys- I didn't approach it lightly.  If a boy couldn't manage to reach my heart, I was physically unapproachable.  And after my heartbreak with the first boy, I resolved to never kiss another boy until I knew he was the one I would marry.  I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it.

So here I was in the moonlit doorway of The Corner House, on the verge of severing all ties, but looking up at this really nice boy with kind eyes and a good good heart, who amazingly seemed to care so much about me. And he wasn't so bad to look at, either. What do I do??  Logically, I knew I should be firm in my resolve and make a clean break while I still could, but I hesitated for a few moments.

And in those few moments, something unexplainable happened...