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Sunday, August 22, 2004

To My Husband

It’s Sunday evening and I’m in the office, trying to catch up on some work. But instead I’m thinking of you, wondering where you are and what you’re doing and if you have to work tomorrow morning. More basically, I’m wondering who you are, what your name is and what you look like.

I miss you. My hand wants to be in yours right now, my lips on your lips, my eyes looking at your eyes. If I knew where you are, I would drive to you and wrap my arms around your torso and say, “What’s for dinner? I’ll cook.” But I don’t know where you are. You could be in my life already, your name and number in my cell phone, or maybe I’ve passed you at the bar, bumping shoulders as I left the dance floor and you went on. Or maybe you’re in another city or state or country, and we’ve yet to meet. In that case, I wonder if I’ll meet you and know right away that you’re the one, or if it will take awhile.

Already I’ve gone through a lot to be with you. Being in the closet in a small farmtown was a trial, but I made it to college where life became easier. But there I kept myself closeted by enrolling in ex-gay ministries because I didn’t want to shame my family or God by being gay. Still, though, even in those times, I thought of you. When I left the ex-gay ministry (or was kicked out, rather) and lost all my friends, I wished you were there to help me through it. I made it without you, though, because the thought of you, the potential of you, the dream of you, was enough to go on.

Your life intrigues me. What has it been like to this point? What stories do you have to share? What will you teach me?

How strange is this? How human -- this desire to be with someone I may not even know. How far should it go? How much is healthy, even wise? And when does it become unhealthy, an indication of dissatisfaction with my own life and self.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that I have to be content with my identity and life before I will ever be happy in a relationship with you. For the most part, I am very proud of the life I’ve built. It’s a good life, with good people and good goals. It’s easy to say that I’m blessed. There is still room for you, though. I’m making sure of that.

It’s embarrassing to admit that sometimes I catch myself looking for you. At the Underground, at Wilde Roast, at Lifetime Fitness, at Lund’s – I look for you. My eyes search, and I wonder, maybe today? I’ve made mistakes doing so, have given my time and some of my heart to guys who weren’t you. Except in one case, I knew right away that they weren’t you. They didn’t look at me like you do, or talk like you do, or think like you do. But I guess I so wanted to be with someone that I compromised my dream of you and went through relationships I knew would never last.

I didn’t say what I should have earlier when I said that I don’t know who you are. I feel like I do know you. You are compassionate and kind, with a ready smile and self-assurance that announces itself in the way you walk and talk and look at people. You care about the world and especially about the people in your life. You are beautiful, physically and emotionally. You believe in balance, and have done well achieving that. You are proud of your life, as you should be.

It could be today or 10 years from now when we meet. I can’t change that or make it happen, and that’s OK. For now, I just want to say that I love you, that I’m waiting for you and that I have a place ready for you in my life. Save a place for me, as well.

Love,

Aaron

Posted by Aaron on August 22, 2004 8:17 PM