As we were gathering our brood last night for the evening tradition of scriptures and prayers, I was telling McH about an earlier-in-the-day phone conversation I had with my brother, my older brother who currently has himself a long-distance honey.
He wanted my opinion on the flower arrangement he was sending her, and he wanted to know if I thought he was taking things too fast. To be honest, part of me thinks he is going too fast, but the other part of me thinks, “They live a thousand miles apart, how in the heck are they supposed to get to know each other if they don’t keep flying back and forth like this?”
Anyway, on to the conversation I recounted, which went something, if not exactly, like this:
“Well, how long did you and McH date before you got engaged?”
“We started dating in November and got engaged in April so . . . what? Five months?”
(by the way, we then got married that July)
“So, see, only five months before you got engaged. I’ve known LO (name changed to protect the innocent) for about three months now.”
“Yes, but you’ve only known her long distance, through the internet and phone conversations. I knew McH for seven months, in person, before we started dating, so there was already a foundation to build on.”
“Right, but you just saw him once a week at church. How much of a foundation could that be.”
(here is where I lose a lot of you with Mormon vocab stuff)
“I was the Relief Society President, he was in the branch presidency. I saw him a lot more than just once a week at church. We sat on the branch council together, he was our designated Preisthood holder at all the Relief Society activities. We helped run a singles’ congregation, so there were dances and activities all. the. time. I got to see his decision making process, his maturity, how he handled problems that would crop up among some of the members of our congregation. I really got to see who he was for about seven months before we even started dating.”
“Okay, sure, but you hated his guts most of that time.”
“Huh? I never hated his guts. Never. I never even disliked his guts. I was just supremely not interested in his guts.”
At this point my oldest two interrupted my retelling of the conversation.
“What do you mean you weren’t interested in daddy?”
“Umm . . . I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want to date him. I didn’t dislike him, I just never thought about dating him.
You see, they can’t imagine why any woman would not immediately line up just for the chance to swoon over their father. To not be interested in dating him? Heresy! Blasphemy! Stupidity!
“Well, he is four years younger than I am. I was finished with college, he wasn’t. Plus, he was engaged to someone else.”
Hmm . . . apparently they never knew that before?
“No he wasn’t!!!!
“You weren’t! Were you daddy???? You weren’t going to marry someone else?!?!?!
Well, he just sat there and smirked and nodded because, YES! he was going to marry someone else. Poor me! (even though I didn’t realize I should be thinking poor me at the time). I thought my girls were going to fall off the edge of the earth as they contemplated their near miss with non-existence and the unfathomable idea that their parents almost didn’t marry each other. So, to distract them from the abyss, I held out the little diamond I almost always wear around my neck and said, “See, this was her engagement ring.” Then I held my left hand up next to it and said, “And see, this is my engagement ring. Her diamond. My diamond. Her diamond. My diamond.”
Was that really hers? They wanted to know. Again McH smiled and nodded.
“Wow mom. Why is your diamond so much bigger?”
Well, because I was the better choice, naturally.
So a very big smoochy “Happy Valentines Day!” to the cradle that ran me down and robbed me. I would have married you even if my diamond had been
smaller than the same size as hers.
Sorry George, no kisses for you.