I had developed a very clear picture of what I wanted for my future life by now, and Gil was always at the center of it.
"Wow, spa stuff! Thanks, N-Cat! Ooh Marn! 20 pairs of new shoes? Great gift certificate!" (Gil hands me a piece of paper.) "Another gift certificate?" DEED: One mansion... extensive grounds... horse pasture... tree-lined road leading to cobblestone courtyard... one dog, one cat equipped with kittens, one pond...
It was a perfect plan. Only problem: the groom wasn't cooperating.
I'm sick of hugging him and kissing his cheek and having him turn away like he's disgusted. On the other hand, if I don't hug and kiss him he CLINGS to me like there's no tomorrow. I start dating a boy and it drives him crazy, but if I say anything about he and I dating, he's like, "NO WAY," "NOT NOW," "SOMEDAY..."
I just couldn't get out of the endless cycle. Finally, he gave in and we became an official couple. People were asking us when we were getting married, and Gil was beginning to give them (and me) some straight answers.
We're shooting for about September of this year. I think that would give us plenty of time... I went to see Grandma tonight. She is going to help me sew my wedding dress! I am just THRILLED. It will be a beautiful treasure. I will look for fabric this week.
Grandma and I went on a textile treasure hunt. Our search lead us to "Ora the Oracle."
Grandma looked at the stuff I had picked out earlier. She frowned and said, "I'm sorry, Jess, but that just won't work. I nearly cried, I was so frustrated. A lady materialized from behind an enormous tapestry and said, "Have you gone to Ora?" I was like, "Who is she?" "She'll be able to help you. You MUST see her." "How do I find her?" "Go to T--."
So we did, and there we discovered the tiny little wizard name Ora who, from a hoarder's paradise of piles, selected the perfect satin for my wedding dress. Gil visited Grandma's house with me to see the dress-in-progress, and he seemed approving, but quiet.
He (Gil) surprised me with a gorgeous pair of peal-drop earrings I've been admiring. Joy! They'll look perfect with my wedding dress.
Then the boom. Gil wasn't ready to get married, and he could offer me no solid promise of a future. He asked if we could continue to date each other casually.
At first, I was so relieved that it wasn't over. Then my stomach sank, because I knew I just could't do this any more. He wasn't ready, but I WAS. I simply had to move on.
Since this letter is in my possession, I'm guessing I decided to tell Gil face-to-face instead of my decision. I don't remember how it went down. Still, it's interesting to see what I had drafted at the time:
You asked me to reconsider my decision and I did. I wept and wailed in frustration and pleaded with God for a more concrete answer than I've been receiving, but the same thought came to me- "It's your choice." So I made my decision based on logic and faith: I cannot continue to pursue you romantically. I'm so sorry.
Now that I think about it, this letter was really written by me to me, an epistle of catharsis during one of the saddest periods of my life. Gil accepted my choice with grace, as was his way.
We tried to stay friends, but eventually that became impossible. I realized that I wanted more out of my future husband than just romance. I wanted friendship, and as long as Gil and I held on to each other, there was no room in my life or my heart for the real man of my dreams.
I had been avoiding this dreaded realization for months. Then, one morning as I approached him on campus, a thought suddenly spoke with perfect clarity into my mind: "End it." It was so shocking, I actually stopped short. My heart started to pound. "END IT," the voice said, firmly but gently. I experienced that strange sensation one feels in a nightmare, the feeling that your legs are racing but you're covering no ground. The world became slow-motion as I swam through a haze of misery toward the love of my life, my best friend of seven years. Gil opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him. "It's over," I said.
I don't remember how I explained things to him, or if I even tried. He was, I felt, my soulmate, and here I was letting him go for good.
Yet, sweet peace filled me from my stomach to my fingertips when I turned and walked away. I drew this picture that evening, the best I could do to capture the weight that had been lifted off my weary shoulders. It was a picture of peace.
Now, there's only one thing left to say, and I want to say it to Gil, in case he ever happens upon this silly little blog:
Thank you.
Gil, thank you for not marrying me. You were right, and I was wrong. You saw what my lovesick eyes failed to see, and you had the courage to do the right thing. I've missed you sometimes, but I've watched you from afar, and I'm so happy about the fun things I see you doing with your friends. Your tender expression of appreciation for your faith on Instagram the other day was so inspiring, and I want you to know that whoever you end up partnering with, they are very lucky to have such a dear person in their life. You gave me my heart back, so that I could give it to Jason, who is my true soulmate, so he thanks you as well. God bless you, you old goat.
Love always, Jess.
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