UN-harried

I distinctly remember my reaction to Tim’s hair announcement. I nodded slowly and smiled as though completely unaffected by it. On the inside, my mind was racing. Why is he telling me this? Dang, he has really nice hair. But why is he telling me this? The answer to that question was far more frightening than the prospect of a twenty-one year old bald guy. The answer to that question shook me to the core and confirmed what I had already begun to suspect –that we were going to be together for the long haul.

For weeks I had been grappling with an overwhelming feeling that Tim would be the last guy I would ever date. High school sweethearts standing the test of time; sounds gloriously romantic, doesn’t it? At sixteen years old, it was only slightly romantic and abundantly terrifying! I was raised in the era of “date around” and “play the field” so finding Mr. Right so soon seemed… kind of wrong. And yet, I was completely taken by him. It was an intense inner struggle. Case in point:

There is a wonderful scene in West Side Story where Tony meets Maria at the bridal shop where she works. After a brief encounter with Anita, Maria’s cautious but sympathetic friend (who is also her highly protective brother’s girlfriend) the two love struck teens begin dreaming of their future together. In the most tender and vulnerable of moments, next to the death scene (oops –did I give away the ending?), they create a mock ceremony and exchange heartfelt wedding vows.

Tim and I had been sent to a room to rehearse this very scene. It was going okay until we hit the vows. Sitting in that tiny room, the Driver’s Education room to be exact, my mind’s eye flashed forward and I could visualize my wedding day with Tim standing opposite me at the alter. I was overcome. I tried to force the lines out of my mouth but all I could do was cry. Tim kept asking me what was wrong. I knew he must’ve thought I was crazy and I wasn’t about to attempt an explanation. Well, it may have never occurred to you since we haven’t even gone on an official first date but I firmly believe that we are going to get married and that makes this scene uncomfortably real for me. No doubt Tim would’ve run screaming from the room. Instead I stammered, stumbled, and sniffled my way through until I was no longer reduced to tears.

We did eventually go on a first real date to the post-play cast party. My parents were there along with fifty of our closest friends. Talk about safe dating. It was at this same party that my chorus teacher, ten years my senior, told my parents that he loved me. Gulp. But that’s another story.