The Day I Met You, My True Love Story (Part II)
At first we seemed to hit it off famously.
That is… until religion entered the picture. At least on his side. In fact he still pokes fun at me, calling me a “looney” from time to time whenever I bring up certain viewpoints of Christianity.
But I suppose there are worse things to be called… and for dishonorable reasons.
And he means it all in good humor.
In the beginning, there were so many days we spoke about faith and beliefs.
Extended emails or high heated debates on AIM about the rights and wrongs of Christianity. Most of the time which I spent defending it.
We spent months getting to know one another and talking back and forth by email almost every single day. And that’s when the struggle started.
I started to have feelings for Michael. And at this point in my life it was about the worst thing that could happen.
In my younger years I had spent ages dreaming about love and convincing myself that any fabricated emotion for any guy equalled love.
During which I had made a foolish mistake of telling one or two men whom I got to know fairly well—that I loved or cared for them.
(Stupid stupid stupid!)
So by the time I was in my twenties… I didn’t want anything to do with love.
I was afraid. I never had the teenage experiences that most girls had. The first kiss. The first date, or anything else that followed.
All of my high school years were spent drooling over John and turning down any offers I had in the process.
So by the time I was an adult… I was still a child in that aspect.
And anyone who could’ve ever taught me much about love wasn’t around, except for my mother.
It was just my sister, my mother, and me. And we all fended for ourselves. Not to mention, oftentimes we were each other’s enemies.
So when love came… I wasn’t ready. And I definitely didn’t want it.
And then one particular day something happened that changed everything for me.
Michael and I were having one of our usual long winded debates. He had emailed me his reply and I sat myself down at the table to write him back.
He had once again fired me up and I was going to make sure that whatever retort I had—it was going to be a good one. So I settled myself in the chair and began writing… then about halfway down the letter… I had a vision.
Suddenly, I was in some place like Africa and there were two children next to me. African children.
I was on a missionary trip and I looked up and Michael was walking toward me, smiling.
I remember thinking how handsome he looked, and how much I loved that special sparkle that only his blue eyes could illuminate.
And there was this feeling of contentment that was in the air. A serene indication that the grief had passed and that everything was okay. The sort that you get after a long stint of tribulation.
And I heard the words, “I can’t believe I ever put you through all of that” and then it was over.
And from that day forward I knew Michael was the one. And I finally gave into how much I loved him.
There was no longer the emotional struggle that inclined me to fight against such love that consumed me.
He had my heart and he had it completely.
All I can ever say from what I was given was that God had addressed my spirit with his spirit… and I felt I had always known him and had never known a day without him.
After that initial period we talked several more months and grew even closer until one day…
… another woman entered the picture.
A lady he had previously met at a course he had taken. He started chatting with her online and then the burden came. I was quite certain he really liked her… and I didn’t stand a chance.
For days I was plagued with grief. I spent the majority of my time alone in my room sulking, listening to sad songs, and crying.
And when that finally became too much for me. I finally talked to my sister about it.
And she said, “Well, have you told him? You know, it’s possible he’s thinking the same thing you’re thinking and neither of your are saying anything.”
And when I looked back on the situation I told her it was possible. But still in, my heart, I was struggling with the fact that anyone could ever really love me.
I wasn’t what most men considered attractive. I was overweight… I was just not “the type.”
So I knew if I decided to tell Michael how I felt, it was a big risk and there was a big chance he would reject me.
“But isn’t it worth the risk?” I said to myself. “I promised myself the next time I felt anything for a man I would be brave enough to tell him I loved him.”
That had been an oath I had made to myself after the initial rejection from John. I had always regretted sending John a love letter rather than just openly admitting it.
Because I never felt love was something you should be ashamed of.
And with that thought I finally convinced myself and jumped on the computer, before I changed my mind, and wrote him a letter…
To this day I don’t remember a single thing I said except one very important phrase that said all that really mattered…
“I’m in love with you.”
And with that said… I clicked “Send.”
Tameka Norris is the founder of Romantic Short Stories. The perfect blend of true love stories, romantic short stories, love poetry, and romantic tips. Visit http://www.romantic-short-love-stories.com.
