The beginning of us, part 2

Thinking back, I guess it had to be that way. I might not have ever wanted to take a risk if it hadn’t been for that lie.
I was 26 and had kind of lost faith in the male species that God had placed on planet Earth. For several years, I had simply gotten into a habit of staying pretty emotionally aloof in relationships. It was safer that way.
You see, I had dated the same person all the way through college and then for another year after we graduated. I was convinced we were meant to be. But when he dumped me for the last time, it was because he had met his future wife. Three months later they were engaged.
I didn’t want to be hurt like that again. So, I built a wall that was so tall and so thick that no one of the male gender could possible find even a tiny hole in my fortress. I had plenty of male friends and several people I either hung out with or dated, but no one I wanted to expend the emotional energy upon just to be crushed again.
I distinctly remember the first time the subject of You Know Who came up. I was standing in the kitchen of my childhood home helping my dad wash dishes after dinner.
“There’s this really nice guy who works for me now,” he said. “I think you should meet him.”
I asked him to tell me the guy’s name.
“Of course, I KNOW him,” I replied. “We went to high school together.”
That was the end of the conversation. I really didn’t need to know a whole lot more. Men, in general, were bad enough. A boy from high school couldn’t be worth my time.
But my dad had other feelings for this guy. My dad thought he was perfect. He loved him so much that he made him the head of his department in a factory they had just purchased. A factory in Mississippi.
That’s right. My dad loved him so much and wanted me to date him so badly that he shipped him off to Mississippi.
My dad would fly down to meet with him at least once a month. They would have lunch together, and I would hear reports about how wonderful this guy had turned out to be. My curiosity was starting to get the best of me. But what could I do now that he lived 590 miles away?
I assumed it was completely true when my Dad told me the news: “Kent would like your e-mail address.”

More coming soon…


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