Engagement Series 1/3: How Can I Love You? Engagement Series 2/3: The Return of the Ring Engagement Series 3/3: Sponge Bathing
Coffee with a caveat
Stacey walked down my narrow, dark, second-floor hallway. She has this rock-star swagger about her walk. When we walk, her Air Force service gives her the intuitive tools to lock-step together, which I find romantic. She held my morning coffee in her hand, which, of course, fully endeared her to me. Then, something unexpected happened.
She didn’t hand over the coffee and got down on one knee.
Stacey: Heidi, I love you. Will you marry me?
Stacey doesn’t mince words.
(In my uncaffeinated head) HOLY SHIT! One day, we’re at the Saint Louis Zoo, just goofing around, the next morning is this? How long have we been together? 18 months? (same time divorced) Is that socially acceptable? What will my parents think? They have barely asked me any questions about being gay. But gay AND married? Man, they are gonna hit the bottle hard if I say yes.
Do I love Stacey? YES.
With Stacey, I’m myself with her with no expectations, and it’s liberating. And, let’s be honest, when you’re with the compatible gender that God made you for, it just makes so much sense, AMIRIGHT?
I get that my expectations in a relationship are my responsibility. I can only say what’s on my heart honestly and let the rest go. That’s what the “recovering” part of “Hi, I’m Heidi and I’m a grateful recovering codependent.” is all about.
AND, I just figured out I don’t like hotdogs. I don’t like them one bit – not Chicago-style or cheese or chili. Not even with those soft S. Rosen’s buns that sustained me an entire summer in high school while I worked the concession stand at the local par-3. If I get married, will I start eating hot dogs again? I don’t think I can handle that. I don’t even know what body parts are in those bun-length mysteries. Or, will my favorite everything become “I’ll have what she’s having.” (Yes, I know it worked for When Harry Met Sally, but it didn’t work in my first marriage. At. All.)
A not-so-happy look must have swept across my face because Stacey stood up. I decided I had to say something, but I really wanted to put on a hoodie, run away, and hide in a treehouse for a few months. I met her gaze; she looked crushed. I mean, her hand could have been scorched from the cup of coffee. I was causing pain to the woman I loved the most on this earth. Yes, Mom, I love you, too. On all accounts, the guilt snowballed in my stomach.
ME: I don’t know, sweetheart. Maybe?
POEM: Call me Later?
If I choose you, do I not choose me? If I help you, can I not help me? If I love you, can I not love me? I don't mean to be a cowboy-girl, but now I can't see there's room enough in this body for the both of us, love of my life. At least, well, not yet.
The SoulJourner Question
PROMPT: Have you ever had an inner fight? Like it was either them or you? How did it turn out? Did you feel good in the end? How did you get to your answer? Lemme know!
