I don’t like PDA. That’s why I’m having trouble writing this post. I love him, and I want to write about him. But it feels private, and surely not interesting to any of our readers. I’m doing it because we’ve now devoted several posts to talking about things that make us uncomfortable, and I think we ought to switch gears lest people start thinking we’re not excited about our marriage.

I am excited. I don’t see marriage through rose-colored glasses, but I’m confident that David and I are right for each other. I believe we’ll do well on this journey together. Why? Because he has seen me. The night I proposed he made me cry by looking me in the eye after he said yes and making me promise I would never again say I’m alone. He has seen the ugly in me. He has seen the scars. He has heard my confessions. And still, he claims to love me.

The first time I prayed about us was the weekend we met. I had traveled from New York to California for a retreat organized by members of the Gay Christian Network. He picked me up at LAX and we drove up to Pismo Beach the next day. We spent a lot of time together that weekend. In hindsight, I’m not surprised people there thought we were a couple. We felt like a team; it felt comfortable; it was easy. I drove on the way back to L.A., and I remember thinking, “Why is this guy who met me four days ago letting me drive his car?” And that’s when I started praying. I asked God, sincerely, that He guard my heart. I prayed that He keep me from falling in love. Some prayers go unanswered. This one was denied.

I went back to New York knowing, somehow, that I would end up in L.A. Three months later a job there opened up with my company. I took it. I denied and will continue to deny that I moved across the country for a guy. That’s just not something I do. But as hard as it was for me to leave New York, heading west felt like the right decision. I’d even say it had the markings of a calling.

David and I started dating three months after I moved to L.A. I don't want to hold us up as a paragon of how to do relationship—there are wiser couples than us; couples who have been together longer—but I do think we've learned a thing or two. David wasn’t sure he was ready to be in a relationship. I wasn’t sure I wanted to take a chance on a guy who might freak out and run. But with a little bit of pretending, and a whole lot of talking, we soldiered on.

I ASKED GOD, SINCERELY, THAT HE GUARD MY HEART. I PRAYED THAT HE KEEP ME FROM FALLING IN LOVE. SOME PRAYERS GO UNANSWERED. THIS ONE WAS DENIED.

One of the qualities I love most about David is how intentional he is about his faith and life decisions. “Intentional,” in this context, means slow and prayerful. He has written on this blog about how many things made him feel “icky” when we first started dating. He never hid this from me. He prayed every day for God to convict him if indeed this path was against His will. He told me about these prayers. At the same time, he kept taking steps that surprised me.

Shortly after we started dating he emailed his entire extended family, telling them he’s gay. He shared the email with me. It was him—humorous, yet sincere; feelings with a veneer of comedy. It made me fall in love just a little bit more. It made the promise I’d made him (that I’d wait for him to figure this all out) a little more honest. I visited him at work once, and he introduced me to a coworker as his boyfriend. He looked at me with a big smile, like a puppy who’s fetched his first ball. I didn’t pet his head, but I felt a wave of love escape from me. I love him.

I don’t get couples who are always 100% sure, who always have it all together, who are truly, madly, deeply in love—with cartoon birds and butterflies peppering their every word. I’m suspicious of them. The job that took me to L.A. didn’t work out and I went through some rough times. This forced David and me to talk about our finances and spending habits very early on. Sharing that aspect of your life with someone is like getting naked—in the least sexy way possible. I mean, it’s really just awful, and no fun at all. But we discovered we could be on the same page regarding those matters and continue to work as a team. His mindfulness made me trust him.

I’ve spent a lot of time looking at him. It sounds creepy, I know, but I have. I love watching him work. I smile watching him talk, tell jokes, and pray. Looking at him, I've wondered, “Is he the one?” Then I've asked myself, what does that even mean? I don’t believe there’s a one—in the words of a song I like, there is no cosmic lover preassigned. David will become my one the day we marry, the day I take a vow to forsake all others. I’m thankful that he’s willing to make me his one, too.

 

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