Saved By A Kiss - Love Story Pt. 5

All of my steely resolve melted into a puddle on the moonlit floor.   Something passed through me- softening my heart and smoothing the jagged edges of my mind- erasing everything I had determined to do up until that moment. And I let him kiss me.

It was so uncharacteristic of me, and I'll tell you why:

I have an iron will.  It may not be apparent in my usually mellow, soft spoken nature, but I am as firm as the summer sky is blue when it comes to matters of principle- or when I simply make my mind up about something.  That night, my mind was made up.  I knew where my heart stood, and it was 700 miles away with that other boy.  I had no desire to play around with Creighton's heart, or pretend to be something I wasn't.  If any of this was going to change, it would be the result of careful introspection- not a sudden transformation. This was my first clue that there were other forces at work here. There had to be.

Because that sudden melting away of my defenses led me to the most beautiful, other-worldly kiss of my life. 

Everything changed after that night. On the one hand, I realized that Creighton and I had a connection that went beyond complimentary interests and personalities.  On the other hand, I experienced a clash of feelings that sparked another internal, infernal game of tug-o-war.

One thing was for certain, though- he was irresistible.   I couldn't keep myself away from him!  No matter how many times I ran, there was a pull- a magnetic, gravitational sort of pull that always brought me back to him.  For a long time, I couldn't figure out logically what was making me run, so I came up with a different reason every time:  it could have been as ridiculous as the kind of car he drove, or a look he gave, or even the way he held his cup. It sounds shamefully superficial, and it was, because really and truly, the root of all of it was as simple as this:

FEAR.

On the surface it was fear of marriage, fear of commitment, fear of making a mistake, fear of the future, fear of the past repeating itself.  All kinds of fear.  If there were forces at work to bring us together, I became certain, as time went on, that there were equally powerful forces at work to keep us apart. Fear had tossed me to and fro with the first boy, but I recognized it too late. This was my first experience actually coming head to head with the other side of light- recognizing it for what it was.  But it took me awhile. And for a time, it was terrible. Fear is terrible.

But there was an opposite to my fear, as there always is an opposite to fear, and it was everything represented by that very first kiss- it was gentleness, kindness, forgiveness and genuine caring- it was unconditional love.  This is what Creighton offered me over and over and over again. This was the force that kept pulling me back to him in spite of the fear.

There is no fear in love;

 but perfect love casteth out fear;

because fear hath torment. 

He that feareth is not made perfect in love.

[1John 4:18]

We broke up three times in the first six months of dating.  "Break up" has such fiery connotations.  Ours were never fiery- never the result of meanness or abuse on either side.  Just a means of distancing myself from the relationship so I could think without self-induced pressure.  The break ups were always sad and apologetic in the beginning, and tearful as time went on.  I tried so hard to choose my words carefully. I knew too well the power they have to hurt unintentionally.  Creighton was always understanding, forgiving and patient.  Ever patient. 

After six months, I decided to distance myself even more, and moved to California for the summer to work in my company's office in Monterey.  While I was away, Creighton spent a lot of time with a very pretty blond girl who shared his passion for guitar.  I hung out with military boys and one postal worker who tried to convince me he was crazy (I had never heard the jokes.)  Creighton and I kept in touch through email. I was always glad to hear from him.  Always.

But I had a lot of time to think while I was gone, and I realized that there was a part of me deep down that was still waiting, ever waiting...for a phone call.

The Early Days.  On again, off again...