Love Stories DO Exist . . .
We've all experienced the "bite of the love bug," at one time or the other. And it never gets any easier. True love, and its various elements, affect each part of our lives. At any age. True love does not respect age, size, or underwear size. That is a good thing. I guess.
I suppose if TRUE LOVE did discriminate, there would be lots more sad. Hopeless people in our world.
Thank GOD for True Love.
This is a very sensitive, personal confession and story all in one. And to most of you, this may be a silly story because some of us were taught that 'adults grow out of love' with time and age. I am here to destroy that myth once and for all, because it is not true. I know. I'm still living a dream that happened to me in 1966.
I am not going to use the girl's real name out of respect for her. If she were to read this, she would instantly know that it was her that I am writing about. She is that way--observant, sensitive to others needs, words, and feelings. Yes, the word 'special' is the only fitting word I can use to describe this living angel of God who walked into my life when we both were in sixth grade. And until the year 2002, she had never realized how she had impacted my life.
I could use all of the storybook love story adjectives like pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, unique, and still be lacking in just the right phrases to describe this beautiful girl, who just happens to be my best friend in God's entire universe. I hope you understand that I am not as talented as all of you professional freelance and original writers, but I am just typing my feelings out on this document and letting fate take control. If there is such a thing as fate.
I remember the first time I saw her. I was sitting near the blackboard in our sixth grade teachers room and when she walked into the room, she didn't just walk, she floated and with the grace of the most proficient ballet dancer, she smiled that special smile she had and quitely took her seat--the third from the front, third row from the right. I won't forget that any way soon.
I was 12 years of age when I met her. Well, I say met because we had class five days a week and I got to enjoy how absolutely gorgeous she looked every day of those five days. And how my heart rate would speed up just as the sight of her. And hearing her angelic voice. Please, folks, do not let me give you nausea, I am struggling with my personal feelings as I present this time in my life in a truthful light.
I guess I was strange at that age when puberty had begun to make its presence known to my body. Strange that I did NOT want to experience my first sexual experiment with her. I just knew that something in my soul had been touched by her presence in my life. This feeling, if you have ever had it, was so scary that I cried real tears when I was in my bed at night. I didn't know what to do or say or if I were to say or do anything. This feeling was not going away. In fact, as 1966 rolled by and then came junior high, the next fall, when I saw her in the hallway of our junior high school, the same scary feeling came back with a vengeance. I sweated profusely when I knew that I would be walking by her and her friends gathered near her locker chatting about what was going on in the school. I was just an obscure, faceless figure in a crowd of faceless figures who made up 'our' class.
As our junior year gave way to the latter, more mature years of high school, the feeling got worse. I couldn't bring myself to even speak to her afraid that I would stumble over the simple phrase of, "Hi, how are you?" it was that serious with me. I learned at an early age what a panic attack is and how anxiety can cause a person's mental abilities to be snuffed out if only for a few minutes. She was the perfect, and honestly, only stimulus that affected me like this. And she never even had a clue what she was doing to me. I also learned what the word regret means for I never did ask her for one date. Talk about ignorance. That described me to a tee.
We graduated in 1972. And at our 20-year high school reunion, I gathered the nerve to at least tell her what was on my heart. Oh you should have seen how she looked that night--slim, trim, tanned, with her hair worn in a stylish cut and smelling like a rose garden. That was her. It was now or never. And I had taken two weeks to rehearse my speech. The evening was drawing to a close. My timing had to be perfect. She came toward me, but was not coming directly to me. I stopped her and said, "May I have about five minutes of your time before we all go home?" She smiled that smile and agreed. It was D-Day. I was in too deep and gone too far to turn back. And like the honorable girl that she was, and is, she remembered that I wanted to talk to her and she floated to where I was waiting and said, "Now what was it you wanted to say to me?" Oh my God in Heaven did my blood pressure shoot up. I relaxed as much as I could and then spit it out, "I called her name and said, you never knew this, but in 1972, I would have given all I own then and all I own now, for just ONE date with you." The world stopped turning. Everything went into slow motion. I knew it. Here comes the axe on my neck. She smiled and blushed and replied, "Well, you should have asked. I would HAVE WENT." What? I thought. Was I the Master of Bad Timing or what? I thought by confessing this burden that birds would sing again and the sun would shine on me for at least a day. Not so.
Time went by and I found myself hurting more and more inside. She would come by where I worked to turn in social notices as she was then and still is an elementary school teacher. She would wave at me and smile. I waved and smiled and sometimes got her to sit down in my office for a 'friendly' chat. I wish now that I had not had some of those chats for she confided in me that her husband was a cheat and was having one-night stands all the time and mentally-abusing her and with two girls to raise, the entire burden of the family fell on her shoulders. My eyes teared up at her story. She almost had a nervous breakdown in years to come. And there was not a thing I could do for her except long for her and pray for her.
In 2000, I left the job I was doing and went into another profession, but still, her face and memories were dominating my heart and mind. I knew what I was feeling. I was hopelessly in love with this woman and couldn't find an escape--not alcohol to drink it away, nor being a hermit and never going into our town for fear I would see her. I went to another line of work in 2002. A good job where I could mostly chart my own course. I had her on my mind one evening and I thought about calling her at home. Her mom and I had talked one time previous to me leaving my original employment. She advised me to 'just tell her what you feel,' and then she hit me with a blockbuster of a statement, 'she (her daughter), should have married YOU, her best friend,' how mothers know these things without being told is beyond me. This is one of the cosmic mysteries of life.
I was alone in my new office. I knew that 'this' time what I had to say paled in comparison than just a confession of wanting to date her. I punched in her number and she answered. Was I relieved. We chatted some accepted small talk and then I let it fly, "Listen. I really need to tell you something--really important to me and it has been eating me up," I said. And I truly believe that she knew what I was going to say, for she softly asked what it was. "Did you know that I've been in love with you since 1966? Its not puppy love, a crush, or a passing fad. I in with with you so much that I hurt all the time," I said. She expressed her appreciation for me telling her this life-changing item. She even laughed and said that she never had any idea that this was how I felt. We talked more and hung up and I felt like I had conquered Mount Everest. The burden was gone and I felt really good.
I still feel good. And I guess I went against every religious doctrine ever written at confessing my love to her. I even told Our Heavenly Father the truth about how I felt about her. I don't know a whole lot about the Bible. I am far from being a Bible Scholar, but I DO know that Our Father expects and demands that we be honest with Him in all things. And I was. And even He didn't send a million lightning bolts to strike me down for this matter of the heart.
She and I talk now and then and sometimes chat on our computers as best friends should. And she, I and God are the only ones who know how I truly feel.
Now you do too. Have any of you ever fallen in love with a woman who you could only admire from afar? If you have, then you can relate to how I feel.