“Sometimes I wonder if love is worth fighting for. Then I look at you and I’m ready for war.”
None of this was Mr. Bodyguard’s fault. I appreciate him telling me the truth. He didn’t have to tell me anything. He didn’t have to stick around. This was crazy at it’s finest. Amazingly, Mr. Bodyguard (my Fiancé) wasn’t going anywhere and I had no intention of breaking up with him. He was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I wasn’t about to let anyone or anything keep me from following my heart this time. I had done that before. This time, I was ready to fight with everything I had in me to be with the man I loved. I had finally found my voice and I would be silent no more. I was ready for war.
My father wanted to have a meeting in his office and get this mess straightened out. He is the “peacemaker” in the family. He was the middle child growing up and he likes to make people get along. He sat at his desk, my mother sat in a chair on the other side while my Fiancé and I sat on the couch facing them. I was so mad at my mother for what she had done to my Fiancé, my father and myself. She claimed she had done nothing wrong. She blamed my father for asking her the questions he had the other night therefore causing the problem. She blamed her kissing my Fiancé on me almost getting killed by Mr. Godfather. Yes, it was MY fault that she had told my Fiancé she loved him. It was MY fault she kissed him. She denies the wanting to have sex with him part (she likes to re-write history). She claimed she had done nothing wrong. She acted like we all just misunderstood her and that it wasn’t what we thought. It was innocent according to her and she was just grateful to him for coming into my life. She acted as if her kissing him was a wonderful gift that he should have been happy to receive. She acted as if there was no reason he should be disturbed by it. She took ZERO responsibility for the pain she had caused my father and myself. And the only apology she offered was an, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
*No one has the right to put ANY part of their body on another human being in a sexual manner without consent. Ever.
My Fiancé was traumatized by what she had done to him. This was NOT a mutual affection. She was wrong and I knew it. I couldn’t do anything about it though and my father just wanted us all to get along. Just like always, I had to put on a smile and keep my mouth shut. No one but certain family members knew what my mother had done. My Fiancé must have REALLY loved me. He and I went ahead with our plans to get married. It wasn’t easy. “The cabin incident” was always hanging over our heads. He and I would find ways to cope… especially him.
One night, I caught Mr. Bodyguard smoking in the parking lot. I was soooo mad. Mr. Fantasy smoked and that was a strike against him. I had no idea my Fiancé smoked. He was supposed to be the “clean-cut Christian guy” my father wanted me with over the smoker/rocker/long-haired Mr. Fantasy I was so upset with my Fiancé that I went inside, got a photograph, came back out and lit that thing on fire right in front of him (I had become a little dramatic after what my mother had done to us). He knew I was mad. No, no, no. My Fiancé couldn’t smoke. He couldn’t cope with stress like that. I wasn’t going to deal with that. He on the other hand wasn’t giving up his nasty little habit. He just needed me to be okay with it. I had never had any kind of vice. I had no addictions other than love and desserts.
I remember as a child riding in the car with my grandmother at night. She would roll down her window a little bit and I would hear the sound of her lighter as the orange flame lit up the night. Then, I would smell one of the most amazing smells I knew… tobacco. Ahhh. It wasn’t until Mr.Bodyguard gave me a ride home from work one night that I began to understand why people actually like cigarettes. I was under so much stress. I was stuffing my feelings and I needed something to relax me. He pulled one out, offered it to me and I finally felt what he and my grandma felt when they lit one of these little white suckers up. These things were awesome! How could something make you feel like every single muscle in your body was relaxed? I had no idea, but whatever it was, it made you feel like you could handle ANYTHING. Who cares what someone said or did? You could handle it better after having one of these little white sticks. This stuff was like… magic. I would no longer complain or give him a problem over it. I fully understood it now. That was coping mechanism #1.
Right before the wedding, my Fiancé rented an apartment across the main street from where I lived with my family. Even though I was 18, my parents controlled when I could go over to see him and how long I could stay. I wasn’t supposed to be alone much with him. Usually, one of my brothers would take me over I believe and we began moving my things in. I was sooooo happy. I had been sleeping on my small love seat down in the basement for over a year. My room was so tiny. Walking into the apartment felt wonderful. My Fiancé had a big water-bed. I would finally have a bed to sleep on! I furnished the living room with my love seat, coffee table and end tables. We went shopping and bought a dining room set that I loved. It was metal with a glass table top. We bought shelves and it was fun watching him build stuff.
We were coping the best we could and trying to move on. It had been quite a year and a half. I had accepted that I would never have a future with the love of my life, Mr. Perfect. I had survived all the abuse I had suffered with Mr. Godfather after nearly losing my life. I had obeyed my father’s wishes and broken up with Mr. Fantasy, the most respectful and gentle man I would ever know. My heart had been broken so many times and I had finally managed to piece it back together with the help of Mr. Bodyguard. He had saved my life. I was ready to let go of the past, accept the love he gave me, and give myself completely to him… forever.
The day before my wedding, I was in my room and the phone rang. It was for me. When I said, “Hello?” I heard a familiar voice. A voice I hadn’t heard in over a year. It was Mr. Perfect…
*My thoughts, my feelings, my story and my opinions are my own. I don’t want to cause any trouble for my family members who are preachers and the ministries they have built. I love and respect them. It is not my desire to hurt anyone or the images they have made for themselves. That being said, I am not above or beneath anyone and I have a right to share my story just like anyone else.
Amazed By His Grace,