We Almost Never

I never thought I’d find love. I grew up the kind of man that wears a sweatshirt all day, keeps my head down, and plays games (nearly every day) with a close-knit friend group. From middle school all the way to my earlier twenties; time was nothing, and it wasn’t as though I were searching for anything in life anyway. 

If there was a reward for not catching context clues, I’d be king - especially when it came to women. Things like never following up with the date who invited me to prom, or perhaps, on the more whimsical side of ‘love’, never chatting with the gal who wanted to play strip poker for our senior year cabin trip. When you don’t see yourself as someone capable of a relationship, being with another won’t even cross your mind, and honestly, life was easy this way.

Often it is said that you can be your own worst enemy - what an understatement. I was my own immovable object, spanning great lengths across the fields of romance. No amount of sly winks or blushing would ever catch my eye.

Time did allow things to change, just not at once. Rather than a comet shooting through the sky, my path to love was more like an ice cube dropped from the fridge and ignored on the floor, before long my barriers would melt.

One holiday year I decided to accept a coworkers party invitation, and thinking back, it was a great time. Good food, and a cast of friends and company; the kind you don’t have to try so hard to get along with. I am, however, a slothful introvert, and eventually needed a break. I grabbed a soft drink and headed out the sliding door to my coworkers enormous country backyard. Not too much to my surprise, I wasn’t alone, and well, there she was. A young blonde woman was staring off into god knows what and thinking about who knows what. She probably just wanted the same thing I was looking for, some peace. Truth is, she had been mentioned at the party a more than once. ‘Oh, poor girl, she had a rough break up… just leave her alone’, some said. 

Well, I’d be happy to, normally. I had succeeded in leaving anyone else ever interested alone, after all. It’d be easy to walk away - but - you might see where this is going. Something was different, either with the cool dimming day, the air, or maybe the water. I walked up to her and said, “I’m sorry to hear what you went through. I heard a little bit, and you don’t seem like someone who deserved that.” We didn’t say much after that moment for the rest of the day, but something felt right about the simple words exchanged, and I left her alone.

A few months later, another holiday party invitation came along. The woman, named Angel, we present again. This was about the time that I realized the joy. Time had passed, but I wanted to talk to this woman. I think it was something about her even views on the world, or the fact that she was so open to talk about what she wanted out of life. The word that always came to mind was ‘wonderful’, this woman was wonderful! We exchanged numbers this go around, and continued to talk often. Our taste in music, the kinds of careers we wanted one day, our dogs, anything and everything. I could feel I had gained a great new friend.

There was one little detail about her presence at each party which did make things interesting, however; she wasn’t a coworker. She attended each party because she lived there, my manager’s daughter. Whelp.

I’d be lying if I said this didn’t make it easy to slink back into my old hesitation. I felt like my past self again, and kept her at a (albeit short) length. She wasn’t interested in me that way anyway. She couldn’t be, right?

Well, the connections didn’t end there. Turned out she was also working the same retail position as my stepmother, and boy did that complicate things more than my manager ever did. To understand why this was an issue, you’d have to know my stepmother. She is often there when you need her, but I am sad to say, she also isn’t always there. I’d speak with my stepmother about Angel, and ask questions. “Did you happen to speak with her today? Do you think she likes me since she talks with me?”. Well, it wasn’t a good idea. My stepmother always curved the issue, not wanting to be involved. She even made things up at one point about me not being interested in Angel. I wish I knew why.

I let myself sink away for the most part. Angel and I would still talk now and then, but it was mostly infrequent, and especially random. More months passed, and I took a trip to Arizona to visit some family. To my luck, I’d been talking with her during my flight, and was pleased to share all the places I had been visiting with someone back home. Finally, the words she told me that night would shatter my deeply rooted assumptions.

Late that evening, Angel told me she had a nightmare, and in that nightmare I was there. Not a phantom face, or some background character, but someone who was there to comfort and embrace them. At that moment it all clicked. Better late than never, thanks brain. I realized this woman I liked didn’t want a friend, they wanted more, and for the first time in my life I was able to grasp the elephant sized clue. Someone liked me, and I liked them back. Such a simple concept. It didn’t matter anymore that she was my manager’s daughter, or my stepmothers' coworker. I opened up about how I felt, and when I returned from the trip, we were dating. 

Six years later, I am overjoyed to say we will be wedded in June.

Thanks for bearing with my first nonfiction telling, I did my best to accurately recount the details of fate which brought together myself and my fiancé. I’d like to think there are a lot of others out there like me, men and women who don’t realize that they are liked; even loved. I’d prefer to never preach, but if you will allow me this one part of advice; be strong enough to speak what comes to mind. Be willing to let your gates fall open, and say something different. The journey which sparks from the bravery of a few simple words can be the road to everlasting happiness.

I appreciate you taking the time to read about how I almost never chanced speaking with the woman who would be my wife.