To Love a Soldier - InkSpot.Com

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I didn't date until I was about 17 years old and really had no idea what dating was about or how to talk to and deal with guys. The males I knew (siblings and their friends) seemed kind of squirrely or crude.

At a much later time and in hindsight, I realized that subconsciously I sensed when I had met the one everlasting love, but I'm getting ahead of myself here.

During my senior year In high school, I asked my companions what it was like going on a date. Nothing they said sounded any different than hanging out with a best friend. They decided to set me up with someone I would be safe with.

What I didn't know was that instead of double dating we would be triple dating . Two couples, my blind date and myself decided to go out.

The problem is this one guy I met then and liked wasn't my blind date. Still, it gave me a chance to see what happens on blind dates or any dates. and see him interact with his friends.

I didn't want to somehow be insensitive to the guy selected for me. I reminded myself that he was my date. He was kind of silent, maybe because he was driving.

The girl with the other guy was everything I was not. Shapely, womanly, plus she had a beautiful southern accent, and knew what to say and how to act on a date. I was stick thin, female, of course, and had no accent,

At some point, I turned around to say something to the people in the back seat. Unfortunately, my timing was off. Both couples were kissing, so I turned back around staring at the road ahead of us. "They're busy...umm kissing," I mumbled.

They heard me."You're suppose to get to know your blind date," one of the girls said.

Of course they were right, yet I really had no idea what to say, plus I felt like I was being watched. and I was.

I fired off with, "So what school do you go to? What kinds of things do you like to do? " In almost the same breath, I asked, "How long have you all known each other?" I realised I probably sounded more like an interrogator rather than a date. Again, my face felt hot. Thank God, they couldn't see my face.

This was not turning out so well. I'm not even sure what he said in response., But soon we were silent again. I got the feeling he had issues too, as far as talking to the opposite sex.

As the night wore on, I tried to stay focused, but found my thoughts returning to the other guy. I was fascinated by everything about him, yet wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, how he treated the people around him, or that at a young age he seemed so experienced.

I had to look away and refocus, so he might not notice the rush of heat to my face. I didn't want to be insensitive to my blind date. Oh, it was both torture and bliss, and so confusing. I yearned to know more about "him", yet knew it was near impossible. After all, what would he see in me anyway? And I didn't want to date other girl's boyfriends.

Regardless, he definitely seemed like potential boyfriend material, whatever that meant. I hoped that maybe there was more like him who wasn't taken. Something inside of me had awakened. It was exciting, but foreign and scary to me, yet also so oddly joyful, and I wanted more of that feeling. I was hoping for too much and decided to let it go. Well, that was sad. I felt stuck in my inexperienced teenage hell.

One day, a week or so afterward, he called me. I hadn't thought about it until afterward that maybe his friend was on the line too. Then he explained that he heard I needed experience in dating. He wanted to help me out and wanted to set up a date with his brother for a blind date. "He's a good guy. I'm sure you'll like him," he said.

I did meet his brother and he was very nice, considerate, and not bad looking either, plus he had a job and even had a car of his own. What more could you want?

I couldn't date his brother if i liked him, so I told him that, no I couldn't.

"Why? Don't you like my brother?" he asked.

"Yes, he's very nice, but I just can't date him."

He seemed confused, and asked so sweetly to tell him why.

I sighed and said, "I...I can't say."

Again he encouraged me to tell him. "Please tell me."

I couldn't just say why I didn't want to date him. He might think I'm stupid. "He...umm, smokes." Surely, my nose was going to grow longer.

"You don't want to date him because he smokes?"

"I dont smoke. I'm allergic to it."

"Okay. Is that the only reason?"

"I'm sorry. Can we change the subject?"

"No. Wait a minute. I'm just trying to understand you. Tell me again why you don't want to date my brother."

I touched my face. It felt hot. "I'm embarrassed to say." Boom. There it was.

He got quiet. I could only imagine what he was thinking. Maybe he thought I was a snob or afflicted with a mental disorder. I started wondering that too.

But he surprised me. "Is it because you like me?"

"I...uh." I knew he just needed a direct answer.

"Just say it. I'm not going to be mad or think bad of you."

"Okay, yes. Yes, I like you, but that's beside the point. Anyway, you already have a girlfriend."

He was quiet again. The silence was unbearable. Oh God. I really made a fool of myself. I was sure he was a bit shocked or embarrassed, maybe not knowing what to say to discourage me without hurting my feelings. I thought sure he'd not thought of me in any way. Here I wanted to experience dating, but had already turned down one heck of a nice guy. That's just messed up. Surely years from then I'd be a lonely old maid. I felt like one of those balloons which was about to deflate.

Finally he spoke. "She's not my girlfriend."

"But you were..."

"Did she say she was my girlfriend?"

"I'm not sure. No. But I thought..."

"She was my date. Not my girlfriend. There's a difference."

"Okay, but still..."

"And by the way, I like you too."

I wasn't sure what that meant and waited for the word--but. Thankfully, he never spoke it. Instead, he said he'd come to visit me in a few days if it was okay. Was that okay? Are you kidding me? That's awesome!

I took a deep breath and said, "Really? You will?" I hoped I didn't sound too excited. " I'd like that. What day?"

He was true to his word. His first visit we got away from my home. Just somewhere close by to talk. I explained that I never dated. Guys were okay, but they also seemed rather unpredictable. I honestly didn't know how to act around them if they paid any attention to me.

"Why did you choose me?"

"I don't know. I like you."

"What's so different about me compared to other guys?" he asked. We held each other's hands across the table.

"Why? Mmm. You seem like an intelligent, kind, mature person, and knowledgeable about life. I'm not experienced and know very little about life. We're different, but there's something about you that feels right. I feel good when I'm around you. I can tell you're a good guy. I can trust you."

The expression on his face changed, his body relaxed, yet he seemed taller, even while sitting down. I couldn't tell whether that meant he was embarrassed or possibly thrilled to hear it or both.

I waited. "I'm probably scaring you. I'm sorry."I felt petrified that now he'd go on his merry way. And I told him so, all while feeling uncomfortable.

"No, you are not scaring me I'm more than flattered. Thank you for telling me."

We continued like that. The days I did see him I hadn't said or even thought about anything, except getting to know him better and hanging out with him. I just enjoyed his company.

It opened the door to more honest chat. I told him that other guys seemed like they had ulterior motives and so I avoided them usually. It wasn't usually, it was always. I was very self-conscous. At the same time I wanted to save myself for my future husband if I ever got one.

At some point, I mentioned that I heard that most guys like someone with experience and I wondered how you could have experience if you never dated and was never intimate. Any other guy might have used that to his advantage. I knew that, but I sensed that wasn't like him.

It seemed like a two-edged sword. Either way you were damned, whether you are innocent or aware. I was struggling to make sense of these things.

Here I was sharing all this with him of all people. There was nobody else to talk to about such things. Not my grandma, sister, or mother and definitely not dad. The last two might have put me on restriction for even talking about such things. Foster mom had already shamed me, laughing and saying I wouldn't know what to do with a guy if I had one.

Wow. I felt like i just got slapped. My face suddenly felt hot. I wanted to throw up. I walked away and sulked. What was I supposed to do, show her she was wrong? Even though she was right. I still felt ashamed, then I decided I didn't care what she thought. It was a hateful thing to say to a teenager or anyone.

What I shared before with my potential boyfriend was way too much information, but he had asked. He was straight forward.i liked that about him.

He reassured me that he respected my honesty, and no, he wasn't going to just disappear He loved the things I said and appreciated that I shared that with him.

I had no idea what in the heck I was feeling. I just felt good and alive. At first I was not sure where his feelings were, except that we liked each other. No pressure. No motives.

We saw each other over the next few days or weeks. Not exactly dating, but simply spending time with each other. We hadn't even kissed, just hugged each other.

Then one night while visiting his friend he took my face in his hands. He hesitated and then gently kissed me. In an instant a feeling vibrated through me, worked it's way up my legs, across my tummy and rose to my quivering lips. I thought I might faint and float away to heaven. I was pretty sure he liked me.

Days later we'd walk hand in hand and he'd share what his day was like or whatever he was doing. I was so proud to be seen with him and know more about him, and was introduced to people in his family. I introduced him to some of my family too. Soon I found out that his grandparents lived down the street from mine. They both lived at the opposite ends and sides of the street. Both were the second house from the corner. How odd is that?

Then one day we sat in his car in my driveway about to say goodbye for the night. He had said he had something to tell me. A cold sensation spread over me--a feeling of dread. Was he saying goodbye? Was he tired of hanging out with me? I wondered what I did wrong. Maybe I was boring. Maybe this was the usual thing that eventually happened.

He said those words, "I'm going away."

It felt like the worst day of my life. Everything inside me said Nooo! This can't be happening!" , yet it was. I didn't want him to see me cry. I was hurting inside. Yet knew if what he said was true then it was futile to think there was any other choice, but to accept it.

He continued. "I enlisted into the Army. I have to report for duty in less than a week. I would be going overseas for many months. It's my duty to serve our country. I can't back out of it."

I knew I couldn't ask him to stay. I considered what he said. It was normal. After all, young men do go off to foreign lands to serve thier country.

My pain was great, but most of all I was dealing with something new to me--feelings I didn't recognize or understand.

Thoughts rushed through my head. People date for a while and soon they either split up or stay together. I thought I was losing him. Maybe he was just being nice, because whatever we had was through. I could sense that he didn't want to hurt me.

I couldn't look at him. I felt as if a dam inside me was about to burst. Instead, I turned away toward the passenger side door.and managed to whisper, "I have to go now. I'm sorry. Goodbye."

"That's it? Goodbye?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," I squeaked out. "I have to go." I hoped he didn't notice the tightness in my throat.

His hands came around my waist pulling me toward him.

"Please," I begged. "I can't do this." I wanted to hide my shame, my hair fell like a curtain around my face. He had told me as gently as he could. I didn't want him to feel guilty. I struggled to get away.

He turned me toward him. It was too late. The dam had broken in two. Tears fell from my eyes, my face was wet, my eyes blurry.

"You're crying." He pulled me closer, persisted and turned me toward him. It was then that I may have looked possessed. My hair was flying, my tears nearly blinded me, my nose was running, and horrible sounds came from my mouth--angry words about people leaving mixed with "You're going far away to a land you've never been to and what if you die?"

And then it occured to me that he really just wanted to dump me and he was too kind to say so. I asked him,"Tell me the truth. I just want to know. Are you really going into the service or is this your way to end it between us?" I cried even more. "I don't even have a picture of you. "

I heard him say while I was sobbing, "I'm being honest. I'm not trying to break up with you and I'm not going to die."

"I might never see you again!"

And through my choking and sobbing, and him wiping the wetness off my face, he said, "Yes, I'll be back again and we will be together. I'll write you." He held me close until I stopped crying. I laid my face on his chest, feeling the dampness there.

I whispered to him to promise me he'd come back alive. He did and sealed it with a lingering kiss--one that would make even Sleeping Beauty jealous.

And my soldier released me. and went away and returned a day later with photo booth pictures of him, then he kissed me again and held me close then left. There was nothing for me to do, but hope, pray, and have faith that his words were true.

A few days passed, then a few more, no letter. I hoped, yet each passing day I dragged myself around trying to focus on my studies.

One day, after walking home from school, I checked the mailbox before entering the house, like I often did. A letter came with scribbly handwriting with his name on it. Two days later another arrived. I took it to my room, read it, then held it near my heart. Sometimes I just kissed the envelope.

During his absence I finished my education. The song called "Soldier Boy" played on the radio now and then. And then another called Seal it with a Kiss. I needed no reminders to think of him. Not a boy, but a man.

And our communication continued just about every week for about a year or more. Some days, when missing him more than usual, I'd re-read his letters, running my fingers over his handwriting. I had kept every one of those letters and tied them with a ribbon.

After fulfilling his time overseas, he came back to the USA. I met more of his family-- Grandma, Grandpa, an uncle and aunt. And one day he surprised me when he proposed.

It totally shocked me. I had tried so hard to not think that far into the future as I wanted time to know each other first. I wore the ring he gave me and said I needed time to think about it. Problem is I had only two days to think. The thought of us being apart again made me ill.

Long story short, we eloped and after a few days traveled across the continent to Fort Lee, Virginia, where he was to serve at.

Each day I watched him do everyday mundane things. This man waking next to me and holding my hand, calling me baby was a true catch. He was witty and humorous, yet there was something primal about him.

I watched him sleeping next to me. He was a feast for my own eyes. I watched him in slumber, his body relaxed. I dare not move as I admired the love of my life, the rise and fall of his breathing, the muscles of his body--the strength there, so different than mine.

He was always there for me. He was in some ways stronger than me, ,not just physically. His courage and integrity was admirable. And daily I got to see him interact with others. I saw his compassion, empathy, his joy, laughter, his tender heart and his strength. Nobody's perfect, but he was perfection in my eyes and heart.

I watched and learned how people interact in positive ways. We had our own struggles to work through, often caused by outside interference, and we were so new to this. We could only go by what we saw through our parents or by other's examples.

Some were inspiring, others were potential trouble. Yet we sensed that working through any personal crisis together could draw us closer. Most of all we knew we loved each other.

And my heart swelled with pride that he'd chosen simple little me with all my imperfections, even if for what seemed like such a short time.

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