There are some little girls who dream of a wedding day. They have a trousseau and a vision board. Swatches of lace and silks picked out. The groom is as decorative as the floral arrangements. Necessary to complete the ensemble but secondary to the planning of the actual day. They play dress-up wedding. They dream and buy and plan.
And then there's me. The idea of a wedding gives me hives. Literally. The visions of walking down the aisle makes me want to vomit and the thought of FOREVER resounds in my head like Smalls on the Sandlot. I was not built to be caged.
Unfortunately I also love men and romance and flowers and sex. My dual needs are incompatible. Where does that leave me? Torn.
What do I know to be true in this moment on this day?
Dads are great.
I don't want to be 60 and single.
He is trying really really hard to keep me happy.
I am being unfair in looking for reasons to be unhappy.
Because I love single as much as I love married.
If Jehovah says it's a gift it's a gift.
... the gift was of a woman to the man.
... the gift was no longer being alone.
... the gift was not marriage, it was companionship.
I affection him.
Sadly.
A
