In early September of 2010, I started feeling like my life was headed for big changes. I wasn't sure what it was going to entail -- I did know that in the past when I was touched with this emotion, something gigantic would happen shortly afterward that would change my world's direction. At this point in my life I was settled: marriage, mortgage, job, and responsibilities, all of the things that come with being a grown-up. I'm a happy person and I find happiness in just about everything I do. The 'If life gives you lemons, make a lemon meringue pie with light whip cream and vanilla ice cream on the side' kind of mentality has always worked for me. I knew that the harsh facts of my marriage could be suppressed so that the blissfully happy couple could be perceived and my disappointments could not. I have never welcomed change; I will stay in the same situation for as long as I can. I have always been this way.
During this anticipating time, I felt the need to pull myself out of my comfort zone. This thing was alarmingly difficult for me -- I wracked my brain to find something I could do that would't make me feel so exposed. I had the idea to start a blog. I wanted to write the raw truth from my perspective, not necessarily spot-on with society but that was the point. My first post was about a Showtime program I liked... not a big deal, and virtually painless so in the next blog I dove deeper and so on and so on. I covered a wide variety of topics and the feedback I got was mostly positive. I started getting friend requests on Facebook from old friends that I hadn't seen in 20 years. It was so amazing to reconnect with people that were part of my life for so long (so long ago). I know we have all been there: you add an old friend to your friends list and immediately look at their friends list to see if you know anybody. Sure enough my Bingley's picture caught my attention and in that instant a flood of memories filled my heart and flowed into my head.
I reminisced about our past. We grew up in the same church ward. I had no clue about boys and thought he didn?t know I existed. I was 12 years old -- the late bloomer of a bunch of exquisitely graceful girls with curves and maturity. I was rail thin and awkward. Bingley started saying "Hi" to me when we crossed paths at church. It became a comfortable exchange of pleasantries, and I didn?t think he thought of me romantically at all. I did start looking forward to seeing him and would search for him with anticipation and would foolishly worry that he would stop talking to me. I was a silly girl and this was the very first time I had ever felt the heart-pounding impact of a crush. My heart raced faster when he was near; trying to compose myself when he complimented me was impossible. I had no clue how to process these intense feelings. Face-to-face just wasn't working -- I would turn lobster-red, clam up, and dizzily run away.
When my Bingley called me on the phone for the first time, I was gleefully surprised that I could maintain a conversation without the catatonic brain freeze. We talked for hours about everything; I loved his voice and knowledge I would look forward to our talks and wonder what word he would use that I would have to look up the meaning of. I felt fulfilled and happy talking to him on the phone, but I still had trouble seeing him face-to-face. Such an intense boy that I didn?t know how to face him in the flesh. I knew the feelings I felt were reciprocated and that freaked me out. I wasn't ready for a relationship with anybody let alone someone with a polar opposite upbringing. He asked me to go with him to a school dance. I remember being so flattered but all of the sudden I felt afraid and unsure that I could handle a date. I remember talking on the phone and telling Bingley that it was over. He didn't seem upset or bothered and that hurt. The next Sunday at church Bingley played the piano at Sacrament so beautifully (like always), he told me later that he played for me. That touched my heart so deeply that whenever the thought of him crossed my mind that was the memory that came to me first.
Weeks passed it was clear Bingley couldn't care less about me. The feelings I felt were still there and every time we passed in the halls at church I would try to look him in the eye but he was making sure not to look in my direction. It stung, and getting him back was all I could think about. I wanted to explain myself to him and let him know it wasn?t because I didn't like him it was because I'm a chicken. I thought the best way to get him back was to step out of my comfort zone and declare my love in a grand gesture kind of way. So what did I do? I got all of my friends together and toilet papered his house -- but not before I wrote the sappiest love letter of my life and taped it to his front door. I was mortified when nothing came of it.
I went on with my life noticing that I wasn't like all of my girlfriends who would have a new boyfriend each week. I wasn't attracted to most boys; Bingley was special. A couple years later I saw him at the beach with a beautiful cocoa-butter babe. I was happy for him but remember feeling like I missed out on something wonderful and no way could I measure up to the hottie on his arm.
Now, after almost 20 years, I can let Bingley know what a coward I was as a kid and can shed some truth on the memories of the past. I contacted him on Facebook with friendly intentions... there was no way could he still hate me? I got a reply from him saying he didn't know how he would know me. I knew it was him I could feel it. He finally remembered me after he added me as a friend and messaged me a couple days later. He caught me up on all of the ups and downs of his life. The downs he was forced through as a boy surprisingly filled my eyes with tears. I hurt for him having to go through unimaginable things and wished I could have helped in some way. I kept my life to myself, not wanting to divulge too much. Bingley commented on my blog entries saying (and I quote) "pretty jaw-dropping stuff." It embarrassed me -- I'm not accustomed to people knowing my inner most thoughts. I felt it left me at a disadvantage. I wasn?t sure if he wanted to be friends or just wanted to see if my life sucked. All of that dissolved early on, since Bingley was surprisingly open about his life and that reminded me of all the conversations we had as friends in the past.
It was so nice to have a friend I could talk with about everything from cooking to music. Our conversations quickly started the wheels in my head turning. I was very intrigued by his logic and in-depth knowledge on superficial topics -- he spoke with such intensity about them it kept me wanting to learn more. At this point I was ok with our friendship; he knew I was married, and I knew he was married. I have always felt that a boy and a girl couldn't be friends without one or both being sneakily attracted (however small the attraction). I was convinced that if feelings started to bubble I could pop them. I felt the rules were set in motion and all was well in happy-little-friendship land.
We talked every day. I started thinking about him at work. I would think of questions I wanted him to answer. I didn't feel guilty about the thoughts I had about him -- they were all innocent... until they weren't. My heart -- without my permission -- had made a space for Bingley, a space that quickly grew, interrupting all of my priorities and my reason. It got me questioning: what the heck was going on? Surly Bingley didn't feel the same way about me? I prayed about what to do and the answer I received was alarming "He needs you and you need him!" It was such a pathetic realization -- I was in the bathtub, crying my eyes out... because I had let myself fall in love to a married man on Face Book! How sick is that? The most important gift I have ever been given was a blunt sentence that came towards the end of one of our daily conversations. Bingley confided in me that he had prayed and asked God if he could have me. His honesty and vulnerability took my breath away; I felt like we were the same person, and immediately embraced the fact that I wasn't alone in my feelings of love.
I felt guilty for not feeling guilty.
I tried to reason with my emotions. I analyzed all of my feelings and cross-referenced them with my choices. I had made all of the right choices in this situation and that gave me comfort. Bingley and I had been talking about music -- he was exposing me to newer, more mainstream stuff, bands I had never heard before and songs with direct meaning to our predicament. I remember I was at work trying to keep busy. I was thinking about the love I felt for Bingley and how it had grown in such a short time. I caught myself in the daydream and pulled myself out by saying out loud, "Stop thinking about him!" When my voice faded, our song came on the radio. I was instantly moved to tears and knew I was irrevocably in love with him.
~Jane
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