because this week is my sixth (!!!) wedding anniversary,
I’m sharing the story of how I met & married my husband.
//part 1 :: love at first . . . nevermind//
//part 2 :: and so I asked him out//
//part 3 :: sometimes love is just awkward//
part 4:
Have I mentioned I hate awkward conversations? I mean, who doesn’t?
I knew I needed to talk with Jonathan face to face and not try to communicate my weirdness over the phone. So I sent him a stark and professional sounding email. Something to the tune of:
“I have regrets about what I said the other day.
Could we talk?”
Oh my goodness. Writing it out makes it all seem even terribler than ever. I know that’s not a word.
I didn’t hear back for a full 24 hours. He later told me he did that on purpose. Smart move. Don’t rush to meet with the crazy woman…you’re gonna get whiplash from the way she does this relationship.
Finally, he wrote back and we decided to meet and talk. Now, I know you’re probably thinking I was a big jerk and he never should have met with me again. And if you’re not thinking that, you’re name is probably “mom” or “dad.” Although, I wouldn’t doubt it if even my parents doubted my sanity at that point. Thankfully, though, he met with me, we talked outside by the library {because it was the most private spot we could find and not get demerits}, and I told him that I wanted to try to work at the relationship some more. I did not tell him I loved him that night. Because I didn’t want to freak him out. I mean, I had just said I wanted to break up with him a few days prior.
He agreed that we could work on our relationship and we both thought it best to just move suuuuper slow.
Like, 1-thing-a-week kinda slow.
A week or two into our new ‘dating schedule,’ I still had not explained all my thoughts to Jonathan about why I broke up with him. Mostly because I was still trying to sort through them myself. But one night we had dinner together. And I just felt like I had to try to explain everything to him – even though it was scary – and even though he had already dropped me off at my dorm and I would be calling him, like, 5 minutes after he had left asking if we could talk. What a ditz.
He was a little surprised when I called, but said we could meet that night. What a guy.
Now, let me digress. In talking with my parents about this whole breaking up situation, they helped me figure out my heart + thoughts. You see, when I was younger, I wrote out this list of qualities I wanted my future husband to have. {good thing} I prayed through this list and talked it over with my parents. {another good thing}
Some of the things on that list were non-negotiables: I wanted to marry a believer who was pursuing God.
Other things were not: I wanted him to be a great basketball player…along with a host of other things.
Somewhere in the list-making and praying-over process, I guess I kinda made those non-important items more important than they really should have been. So much so that I felt like Jonathan wasn’t my “ideal husband” because he didn’t fit the extremely precise mold I had created.
My mom used the example from Anne of Avonlea when Anne had this ridiculous ideal husband planned out for herself, but it really wasn’t at all what she needed – or even wanted. I mean, everyone knows she needs Gilbert.
It’s almost like I needed to break up with Jonathan in order to realize how much I really loved and needed him. Sorry, honey.
And that’s when I let God take over.
Jonathan and I met that night & I explained everything. I even told him the Anne of Avonlea illustration. He didn’t laugh or get mad or anything. We decided to just keep praying and continue building our relationship as far as God led us.
Tomorrow: a drugged engagement story.
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