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LGBTQ+ Romance

“I do.” Two short words, words I never thought I would be allowed to say. As those words rolled easily off my tongue, my wife looked at me, smiling. This marriage had been long awaited. The year was 1969, me and some friends were riding our bikes as kids in our day used to. Just barely teenagers, endless freedom from parents, we were out playing all day. Through our daily voyage in the woods, when we saw her. Her eyes were shining under the gleaming sun, and her hair was flowing freely in the wind. As we approached each other, we simply passed by. I thought about her for the rest of the summer. 

I reminisced about her pale skin, my mind brought me back to her perfectly fitted clothes, her presence occupied my mind, even though we only met in passing. Oh, how I wished I had introduced myself that day, in those very woods. The memories we would have made, the joy she would have brought all along. But, I didn’t. I was nervous, I was shy, I could barely speak above a whisper. 

School soon came and the girl in the woods still danced in my head. I saw her on her bike riding calmly through the woods, but I suppressed these thoughts, I did not know her. As if all of my prayers had been answered, she appeared. Not out of thin air of course, but for me, she rode into our dirty school on a cloud. I heard angels as she strode through the halls, immediately capturing the attention of every male around. I had wished I could have walked her in, I wish I was the one holding her hand as she walked through the halls, but I wasn’t. Instead, he showed her around the school, he held her hand in the halls, they sat together at football games. 

Days went by, weeks passed, she slowly, very slowly, became just an image in my head. She was always surrounded by suitors, girls gathered around to touch her soft hair, teachers praising her for her brilliance. I had to forget about our fleeting moment, for I knew she wouldn’t think of me the same. She didn’t dream about me the way I dreamed about her. I waited for these feelings to go away, but the lasting image still persisted. 

As the year came to a close, so did her relationship. From what I heard, she ended it, and he was devastated, as I’m sure any man would be. To just have the honor to call himself a past lover, he should feel lucky, I’m sure any man would. 

Summer began, me and my friends felt we were too old for bikes, we took our parents cars, we drove around our small neighborhood, smoked our parents cigarettes and drank their alcohol. We were too cool to hangout in the woods, too cool to speak to our younger siblings. Soon, they became too cool for me. I spent my time in the woods. I reverted back to my original state, before the drinks, before my friends became too busy to hangout with me. I rode my bike around town, I walked through the woods, I spent my time with my younger siblings.

My time hanging out in the woods cleared my head, it gave me a space to be alone, time to move on from all of the things and people who were holding me back. I became who I truly was, and I no longer feared being myself. Though that summer was rough, I grew from it, and for that I will be forever grateful.

School started again. This stressful time was made even worse with the lack of friends I currently had. I was lonely once again, but this time I didn’t let it bother me, I walked through school with my head on a strong pair of shoulders, I wasn’t going to let people tear me down any longer, I didn’t want to live that life anymore. Through this new found confidence, I decided I would introduce myself to the girl who never left my mind after all these years. I never forgot her beautiful bleach blonde hair, the playful energy that attracted everyone in a hundred mile radius. At lunch, I found my perfect moment, and said hello. She recognized me. She had seen me before, she wished she had said hello when she had the chance. I was beyond complimented, I felt appreciated, I felt seen. We began talking. We walked around the school together, we held hands in the hallways, we sat together at football games. She was my best friend, and to her, that was all I would ever be. Accepting that was tough at first, but I knew I would not be able to make her happy how she deserved, because she so desperately deserved a man who would provide for her, aid her in raising her perfect children that she was bound to have. I would never be that to her, though I so wished it was me. 

I did, however, accept this fact, and we continued our friendship. She stayed single throughout highschool, though potential suitors were always waiting for her. How I wanted to reveal my true feelings for her, and how I wanted her to return those feelings, that day seemed to be further and further away from us. 

College kept us apart, but we wrote letters to each other. I kept every letter she wrote to me, and I treasured them all dearly. We met up to chat and our platonic relationship was enough for her. As she followed her dream to become a teacher, I was chasing my dream of becoming a lawyer. I had learned to stick up for myself, now I wanted to help other people in fights they couldn’t fight on their own. She was proud of me, proud I was able to come this far, proud of my dream, proud I was able to tell her who I truly was. 

Who I truly was, who I really am, who I have always been, but too afraid to tell people. Too afraid of people’s opinions, terrified of society and the ruthless people who live in it. I did not want to be her best friend, she occupied my mind as the girl I wanted to be with, the girl I wanted to call my wife. 

She felt the same. From the moment she saw me riding my bike with my friends, she saw my long hair, she saw my eyes sparkle in the sun. She pictured a life with me, but she was my best friend. She wanted more. She didn’t want to be with him, she wanted to be with me, she wanted to hold my hand, sit with me at football games, but it was forbidden. 

Finally, in 2015, we were able to call each other wife.

January 06, 2021 04:45

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