sleeping on my own

dear future husband

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Dear future husband,

I took you to church with me a few weeks ago.

I have a confession to make. I really don’t know how this works. I thought I did. But what I was doing wasn’t working. And I have asked God for help.

The truth is, as difficult to believe as this sounds, I used to think you were walking beside me in spirit this whole time that I’ve been looking for you. I used to think you knew who I was and you were waiting for me to wake up. I used to believe I was not doing something or doing something wrong that was keeping us apart, and I thought you were right beside me with your arms crossed except for when you tapped your watch with your right forefinger.

You’re a righty, right? Or is that crazy to believe because of an image I see in my head?

The truth is, I have believed that you were angry with me for taking so long. I thought you saw my fucked-up-fumbling-through-life try as yet another inconvenience you had to endure.

The truth is, future husband, I believed you were watching over me like some kind of sky knight warrior, a person who has mastered the laws of metaphysics and uses those skills as a sort of low key Batman to answer the calls of women in distress.

Weird, right? I mean, that doesn’t even exist. But I believed it just the same.

And because of this, future husband, I thought I knew who you were.

So, when I took you to church and asked God to show me your face, and He showed me a face I did not expect, I was understandably shocked.

I know your face, but it wasn’t the face I expected to see.

And that is why everything I’ve been doing to find you was wrong. Why nothing I did seemed to bring me closer to you for so long.

When I first had a dream where God showed me your face, my waking self overrided your face with the face of another, someone I had believed truly loved me.

I’m sorry.

In that sleepy shore state of rising consciousness, my disbelief wouldn’t let me hold your face into my waking life.

See, we’ve met.

And when we were talking, you gave me no indication that you loved me.

Or, my head was stuck up my ass (which was only partly my fault btw), and if you did love me back then I couldn’t see it.

I don’t know if God has told you about me. I’m a weird kind of driven and tenacious with a die hard attitude toward commitment.

You might hate that about me or you might love it… I guess it depends a bit on how you feel about commitment.

So, I’m so ride or die that when I believe something with my mind and my heart, I focus on that, whether it’s a person or a defence or a moral view or a way of life.

Keep this firmly in the front of your mind as I tell the rest of the story of how we met.

I walked into your life believing that I was taken. I was committed to my future husband, no matter what he might be going through or how long it would take for us to be ready for each other.

And because I believed my future husband was walking with me in spirit, so much that I swear I was able to feel his presence some evenings when quiet fell over my apartment, I took this idea of committing to our future seriously. I brought it into the present and I believed that letting any other man in was equal to cheating, to betraying him in some way.

I’m so fucking weird. But I’m starting to think that will be why you love me.

In my mind, I wasn’t available when we met.

Here’s the part of the story that’s sort of a miracle. Because I ‘wasn’t available’, I had blinders on to every man who crossed my path.

Nobody had given me reason to doubt myself.

Somehow, future husband, you reached right through that dense fog that kept my head down and you did it just by being you.

That’s all you did. You were just fully and undeniably you in that moment we first met.

And I loved it.

Future husband, you made me doubt myself. You made me doubt my view of the world.

I looked into your eyes and I thought, “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he’s the one.”

No shit.

That’s why I kept finding reasons to bump into you. I know you would have no way of knowing this, but that made me feel guilty. And I’m one of those people who actually believe an anvil or a piano will fall onto my head the minute I do something wrong. So I didn’t spend time finding reasons to bump into men other than you.

I wanted to keep looking into your eyes. They told me something that I deep down already knew but wasn’t ready to face yet.

I still didn’t believe you loved me. Maybe you didn’t. idk.

Either way, all those times we spoke, we never formally introduced ourselves. It got to the point where it would have felt almost rude I guess to ask, what was your name again?

And you didn’t say anything. Okay, I’m not saying you didn’t do anything to show me you wanted to keep talking, because you did. That’s why I started to feel nervous and completely unsure of myself around you, like I was going to lose my guard and do something that was going to change my future.

But you didn’t say anything. Listen, this might be a completely wrong assumption, but to me you seemed like a man who knows what he wants. A man who decides things with ease. A man who makes it known when he wants something and asks a woman out for a drink or a real date or whatever men who still date do.

I was so filled with self-doubt when it came to what I would do if you did ask me. I was undecided because it felt like I had already committed to a decision about that part of my life before I met you, not because I was unsure about wanting to spend more time with you, and not because I had any doubt about how you would affect me and likely change my life in some way if I let you in.

I was unfairly weighing my certainty about something I had decided before we met with the uncertainty that comes with anything new.

Plus, you scared me. I couldn’t figure out how you cut through the fog. I was so used to males who could only do that with some kind of night trick that I wasn’t sure getting through without tricks was even a thing. And if it was real, I thought, that was even scarier.

You made me so nervous that I actually flapped my arms like a bird after one conversation. I’m not joking.

I hope you’re laughing in an ‘oh that’s adorable’ kind of way rather than a ‘phew I ducked a crazy chick’ kind of way.

To be fair, it was more like a sparrow than a baby chicken, but the pun still works.

And then I had to go. I didn’t really have a choice. Hopefully I’ll get to tell you the story, though it isn’t very cheerful.

The farther from you I was, the more I fell back into my old certainty that I was right the first time.

The short version of the rest of the story is this:

My world collapsed out from under me. I stopped believing in love. My heart became a bit jaded in the way that any tenderness can be ‘a bit’ jaded. I focused on my own hell for a few years. And then I found God.

I think it was the beginning of 2016 when He told me that if I gave Him my broken heart He would fix it. This was before I knew it was God. But that’s another story.

A few weeks ago, God showed me your face. And I’m starting to believe that our spirits have been walking beside each other in a way that is mending my heart.

I want to write a new ending to our story. Before I can, though, I want to know if it’s something you want.

Author: tendrilwise

Hi, I have a diploma in Journalism, I've published a novel, and I am currently studying psychology. My odd way of viewing the world either gets me kicked out of parties or invited to them. Jenn McKay

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