Unfinished Business - Love Story Pt. 3

Neither Creighton nor I remember arranging to meet at the conference, but we did.  At least for one hour of it, anyway.  He had hoped to spend more of the week with me.  I had no such plans.  I bid him farewell after the first speaker. He smelled trouble and and we parted ways--

for two whole years.

I had unfinished business to take care of. 

I got back to BYU and my fishing hole turned into an ocean.  I'd always felt the need to date a lot of different people.  I didn't think I could trust my ultimate decision without that kind of experience.  And at this point, I still felt like I had never dated anyone resembling the imaginary creature I paid homage to.  How was I ever to make a decision with so little to base it on?

I prayed, and they came calling- those fearsome creatures of my imagination.  There were several boys I'd met in recent years who impressed me from afar- who fit the description. They were the kind who tugged at me and left me wondering.  By some miracle, all of them knocked on my door that fall, each taking their turn for a two or three month spin until I, regretfully, dismissed each one as gently and gracefully as I could.

They were amazing boys in many respects, but I learned an important lesson about appearances- that sometimes those who make a show of it, don't have a whole lot on the inside to show for it. Or, as Elizabeth Bennett compared Mr. Darcy to Mr. Wickham:

"One has got all the goodness, and the other all the appearance of it”:

 I was starting to sense the impossibility of knowing my imaginary fellow, and loving him at the same time. In fact, he was quickly losing all appeal and credibility for me. My grasp was loosening considerably.  This process was greatly facilitated by frequent run-ins with the the boy from the first love story.  It seemed that every time I was at a pivotal point in my relationship with these other boys, I would run into him somewhere. And just like that--- clarity--- about the uselessness of trying to fit square pegs into a round hole. These boys were not for me, and I was not for them.  I was at last becoming certain of what I truly wanted, and what I really needed.  I was learning to listen to and trust my heart over everything else- including the impressions of my youth. God brought that first boy into my life to teach me these things- and so much more. 

If you're wondering, yes, I did try to repair the damage of the past with this boy.  But by the time I returned from my mission, he had built a wall so high and so deep that it was impossible to reach him.  I apologized to him, but I was such a wounded puppy that my attempts were weak and hardly conveyed the depth of my sorrow and remorse. He would never know the ocean of tears I cried for him. After two years, and by the time we had both graduated from college, we were restored to something resembling friendship, but it never was the same as it had once been. We couldn't seem to bridge the gap and find our way to forgiveness. Such a tragedy.  I ultimately wrote a letter bearing my heart and soul to him, but it was merely my attempt to put it all to rest with no regrets. I knew he was gone. The last thing he said to me in our final phone call was: "Can I call you sometime?"  I said "Sure." 

And that was it. 

It's a good thing I kept busy with all those other boys.  It distracted me from the pain just enough to survive those years.  When I was a Freshman, my roommates and I started keeping a list of everyone who asked us out- I had reached 95 boys by the time I graduated. I didn't date every fish in the sea, but I'm pretty sure I dated at least one of every species.  It baffles me now looking back on it, and doesn't say as much about me as it does about God- who knew what I needed to understand myself and what He wanted for me. I left BYU as single as I arrived, and satisfactorily.  As far as I was concerned, I had taken care of business in the dating world, and I was ready to move on. 

Six months later, I had a fabulous job in downtown Salt Lake City and was moving in with a group of friends in Sugar House, on the outskirts of town.  Our frustrating search for a home was ultimately rewarded with the perfect old farmhouse, on a picture perfect corner, in the perfect location, for the perfect price.  We furnished it smashingly with salvaged furniture from the D.I. and soon after dubbed ourselves "The Corner Girls."  Our first Sunday after moving in, we located our new congregation and headed to an old chapel on the hill for church.  We were late, so the lobby was vacant.  We made our way down a set of stairs and were walking through an empty hallway when a man came around the corner towards us.  I looked up and realized I knew him.

It was Creighton.

And almost the instant I recognized him, a voice inside of me said:

"You're going to marry him."

The Corner House

Me, Suzanne and Danielle.  First Sunday in the Corner House. November 1997.

The Corner Girls