A continuation of my attempt to finish a book I started in December 2017. Posting chapters in an attempt to organize it all and finish. And I now know I don’t have to, but it wants to be written. Why? I’m not sure yet.
It got to the point where we were often spending over twelve hours a day together. So we needed more places. Not just restaurants.
One of the first parks you suggested we meet at was Phil Hardberger Park off Blanco. I hadn’t been there since my ex, Denise, introduced me years before. So that was bittersweet. But you and I met and walked around that place so many times, so many conversations, that you started to come to mind before her whenever I’d pass by.
That was where we first addressed the elephant in the room one day. We were talking in general about relationships. I can’t even remember the context now. But at one point I said, “Well, what does dating look like then?”
And you responded, “Like this. Except we’re not dating.” You and I.
That was so confusing to me. You didn’t have to answer it that way. You could have said a host of other things. But that’s how you said it.
And of course I knew we weren’t dating. We were just friends from church who connected well enough to hang out over twelve hours a day. Talk until two or three in the morning. But all it was was just supporting each other through hard times, right?
Each going through major heartbreak and transition. Me with the pain of losing the connection I thought I had with CCSA. And you also to a lesser extent with that, but more so with your most recent ex.
During our first conversation outside of church, at the coffee shop, we talked about her and what happened. In my mind, you hadn’t anticipated and maybe were having a hard time accepting that it ended how it did. I even encouraged you to call her or knock on her door to try to start up conversation with her again. I told you email and text wasn’t personal enough, but that’s what you ultimately did. And didn’t receive a response from her. We discussed your feelings about that and your other past relationships in our many conversations.
When it came to me, we talked much more about my relationship with God and the church. My previous romantic relationships also, but to a much lesser extent.
But even from that first coffee shop talk with me, we were started talking about Mr. December 19th. I thought I had to prove my faith in God by telling everybody about that crazy idea. And you, as was your nature, told me in no uncertain terms that you believed I was wrong about the whole December 19th thing. You still handled me with care though. I never felt shamed. Even as the subject would come up several more times and you’d always stand your ground that I was wrong about the whole thing.
When the day finally came and it didn’t happen, Mr. December 19th never showed up for me, I was so surprised that you were the first person I felt safe enough to tell. Even more than the safest person in my life for the past at least 15 to 20 years. Although I let her know next.
But I was so surprised that it was you who I wanted to talk to first. Sought comfort from. On such an embarrassing failure. I mean I fell so hard and so far on that one. Still cringe when I think about it eight years later.
And we had basically only just met. Out of all the people I knew at CCSA and in my life. You were the one I wanted to talk to first when Mr. December 19th didn’t happen. I was so surprised by this.
But my instincts were right. You proverbially scooped me up without a flinch and helped me get through that as best as anyone ever could. You knew exactly what I needed. Even more than I did. You took me out for a long drive and helped me talk about what pointedly did not happen. And then just like a best friend, you quickly helped distract me so I could start to move on. More importantly, with dignity. Probably the only reason I didn’t die from the overwhelming amount of shame from that infamous December 19th debacle.
Yeah, I guess looking back now, I can say you made me feel safe because you loved me in that incredibly difficult moment that could have so easily been the end of me in the hands of pretty much almost everyone else. But God knew what He was doing before I was even aware of what I needed. You were the one who He seemed to hand-pick to help me navigate that. And so many other things.
And so, with great hesitation, I started to consider alternatives since Mr. December 19th didn’t happen. And you were right there beside me through that process.
I left Denise back in 2009 or 2010. In a dramatic way. I was sleeping one night and had a dream that it was “the rapture”. And in the dream, all these bodies were flying up into the sky. But there I was in bed with her. And when I looked over at her, I heard God ask me in my dream, “So, she’s worth it?” And then the dream ended.
But the dream was so real to me that I shot up immediately in bed and wondered if “the rapture” had really just happened. I went outside and sat in my truck at three in the morning. Feeling sick to my stomach. Feeling like maybe I had just traded my future in eternity for some happiness here on earth.
So I called my biological mother. The one who raised me in this religion since my conception. Thinking if she answered then maybe “the rapture” didn’t happen.
I never ever called her this late in my entire life. So when she answered I felt such a wave of relief that the decision was immediately made. I told her to pray for me. And then somehow the decision was made that I’d move back to her house right then.
Over two years living with my girlfriend, who I dearly loved, and ended it in a matter of minutes over that dream.
She was standing on the porch at some point. Had woken up and found me outside. Wondering why I was sitting in my truck at three in the morning on the phone. I remember I walked up to the porch and told her I had to leave. Right then.
She probably thought I had absolutely lost my mind. She told me, “You know if you leave, you can’t ever come back?” I went ahead and left. Because I was so scared that I had narrowly missed spending eternity in a lake of endless fire.
She helped me pack and by the time the sun was up, I was on the road to my mother’s. Crying my eyes out.
We had only argued one time the whole time I was with her. Over her saying that it was okay to kiss other people even if you were in a committed relationship. And when I say argued, we didn’t even raise our voices or get disrespectful. We just never came to be on the same page with that issue.
But that was near the end and otherwise it had been a glorious run of peace and lots of laughter. Everything wasn’t perfect, even more so when I could think about it years later with some emotional distance, but it was definitely very good for a long time.
I hated God for not letting me be with her. And not letting me be with women. As I saw it back then. Now all these years later I see the whole situation and the whole homosexual thing, even the kissing other people thing, so differently. A completely different perspective and narrative. Which I hope to share eventually.
But for now I just want to share my mindset back then. Where I was when we met. After I hated God for taking away my happiness with Denise. And then read the entire Bible looking for some loophole to get back to her. Which led me to listening to Christian radio while I worked. Which led me to visiting CCSA. Which led me to meeting you.
But also before I even met you, I was thinking God was preparing me for my future husband. Who I thought was Mr. December 19th. But now that that didn’t work out, you and I talked more about who and what I thought God was preparing me for. And in my head it looked so specific.
I remember one time we were sitting in my car in the parking lot of the HEB in Schertz after another long day of hanging out. And I was telling you that I would know who my future husband is because he wouldn’t try to kiss me until after we were married. All in my pompous certainty.
And your reaction was so visceral: “You are so damn black and white, Sarah! If a man tries to kiss you, it’s not a bad thing! It means he likes you! Just tell him, ‘Tap your brakes, Andretti.’” 😊
It wasn’t until all these years later that I wondered about two moments.
We never got physical. Thank God. I haven’t done a lot right in my life. But at least I did that. Because no regrets. No shame. Nothing to hide. Just hugs when greeting and saying goodbye.
Except for one time when you took me to that park by the lake near Bandera. And it was already night. The first time I heard the coyotes and it scared me so much! They sounded like demonic aliens. Screeching so loud! And it was pitch black outside. I was so scared that I grabbed onto your shirt so I wouldn’t lose you in the dark. And you didn’t pull away.
And another time when I was cooking at my apartment for our Bible study. Maybe Julie was already there while I was finishing up the meal. And you passed behind me in the kitchen and touched the small of my back as you scooted behind me in that tiny ass apartment.
I didn’t have the nerve to think anything more of it. But it didn’t scare me. Not creepy at all. Which was an accomplishment for me in terms of men. And beyond the intellectual, I have to admit I liked the idea of us being that familiar. The innocence of it was beautiful in a kind of way that doesn’t happen as much when you get older.
All that to get back around to the two moments that confused me.
Once when we were up at the old tunnel park. Laying out looking at the stars. Quiet for the most part. Except when you’d point out the satellites and planes flying overhead.
We had been there so many times by that point. Even that one crazy time where someone somewhere was playing the piano and it was so quiet out there that even though they were God knows where, it sounded like a concert just for us.
But this time I was so cold. And you and your ice baths – trying to convince me to just think my way through the feelings of coldness. I thought you were completely crazy about that back then.
But at some point that night you took my face in your hands and held it for a long time…
I’m the one who pulled away. Too much in my head. I didn’t know what you were thinking. So I ended the moment.
Brené Brown refers to it as dress-rehearsing tragedy. And she was 100% correct – I wish I hadn’t always tried to be in control in order to try to prevent inevitable pain. Because I only stole from myself. Maybe there could have been so much more happiness.
The next time I only wondered about recently, years later. It happened when we were at that old mall off Fredericksburg Road. You brought me there a lot for movies at the Bijou and just walking around when the weather wasn’t conducive to us spending time outside.
And this time you were in such a pensive mood when I showed up. In one of your funks. And I mistakenly thought I had to fix it, fix you. It was up to me, right?
So I was doing my best at first. Trying everything I knew. But only making things worse. And not understanding what had you so frustrated beyond your usual valid grievances.
But at some point I just gave up. So sad that I couldn’t snap you out of it. And just sat and walked with you in silence.
You didn’t say much. But you didn’t try to end our time or go away. We were just there together in silence for awhile.
Until you slowly started up the conversation again. This time on your terms. And everything was totally different.
I had let go and you came back. To me.
And the “us” I liked best had returned. So quickly. So much that I eventually forgot the rocky start.
We were walking in the parking garage after having done what seemed like a million laps inside the mall. When I was finishing up something I said. Animated, totally engaged in our conversation. And you stood in front of me, smiled, and took both your hands and just held my face again. For another long time. Just looking at me.
It was night and dark outside. Like when you held my face that last time at the bat tunnel park. But this time the lights were on in the parking garage. And I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t figure out what you were doing, what you were thinking. So again, I pulled away. To deal with not understanding what was happening.
Even now, I feel embarrassed. I don’t want to tell these stories for your sake. Because, look at me, right?
It’s stupid and silly to think anyone would want to kiss THIS? Right?
It was just a fact of life for me. And had been for so long that otherwise never even occurred to me.
We were just two friends hanging out. Right?
So yeah, that day way back in the beginning. When we were in Phil Hardberger Park. And you followed up your comments on dating by saying, “We are never going to get married.” Meaning you and I would never be together. I was actually offended.
I didn’t tell you, but I was thinking, “Your audacity! Just because I’m fat, that doesn’t mean I’m desperate.”
Only in the sense that I’m not just going to fall for the first person who gives me attention. Right?
I didn’t leave my love, Denise, just to settle for anyone. No, I intended the next person I committed to to be the last. For life.
Sarah Nyhan 
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