Once upon a time...
"I'm not going," I argued with my best friend as she tried to convince me to go out. The carriage would be there in twenty minutes to take me to the ball and I was to be ready in time. My hair was still damp from my bath, my face bare. I wasn't going.
I went.
In one of my most natural looks I've ever donned for an outing before, I attended the ball. A man I had been interested in was there. He danced with me a few times, enough to satisfy me and keep me wanting him, but not enough that it drove me crazy. As he danced away from me for the third time that evening, I decided I was going to find someone new to dance with. If he wouldn't pay attention to me, someone else would. So with my best friend in tow, I found a handsome group of men, and introduced ourselves.
That is how I met Joseph.
A week later, I was attending a jousting match. As I walked with one of my dearest friends, I dropped some of my coins. I bent down to pick them up, as a man and friend also came to my aid. I looked up to thank the man, only to see a face I had seen for the first time a week ago. His brown hair combed back, his face freshly shaven (which was a bit different from the beard he had the last time I had seen him), his tan a perfect shade of caramel.
I invited him to join me where I was sitting. He obliged. I don't know the outcome of that jousting match. I was too busy lost in conversation with a man I had never expected to see again.
That night I told my mother that if I had met someone. And if that someone were to court me, I think he could be the one.
Joseph did ask me out. I would have been surprised if he hadn't. It's rare to meet someone you click with so easily. I was ecstatic and prepared for another comfortable night with someone who was on the same level as I was.
Was I ever wrong.
It was one of the worst dates I've ever been on. We attended a tavern to watch a fight. Not a classy sword fight. Or jousting match. But fists. And blood. Not a place for a princess. After, he treated me to ice cream and proceeded to talk about all these women he found attractive. And how he thought blondes were evil based on his most recent relationship. (One I came to find out, was a few dates over a period of 6 months in which he was the other man.)
As we exited, I told him he wasn't what I thought he would be and that I was disappointed with his choice of conversation. He apologized and asked me to give him a chance to make it up to me with a walk by the beach. What girl would say no?!
A smart girl would.
We went out a couple more times, all to the beach. I loved learning about him. We would stay in the carriage until the early hours of the morning talking about life. While we had some different views, I had never felt so comfortable with someone in a long time.
I invited him to attend a gathering one of my friends was having. I thought it would be great to introduce him to people I knew.
The evening did not go quite as well as I thought it would. He disappeared to go dance. Supposedly alone, for most of the evening. Until the end in which he stole me away to go on a walk.
When the carriage arrived to the castle, he leaned in and finally kissed me for the first time. A wet forced disgusting kiss. Then asked if we could go inside to my bedroom. I declined and we continued kissing. Only for him to ask the same question two more times.
Finally, I let him have it. I told him I was not going to date someone who did not respect my boundaries, who disappeared on me at gatherings, and who talked to me about how attractive other women were.
That should have been the end. But there was something there that I hadn't felt in so long. And we continued to date.
It started off even more rocky when I broke my foot on a romantic walk with him. And he didn't believe me it was broken until a physician confirmed.
At another gathering, he left me to be a gentleman and get me something to eat. Only to be hit on by another woman. And not shut it down. I was upset that he would give her his information when he had been dating me. And when he should have been with me. We had arguments over politics and he compared me to his even ex sister in law who ruined his brother's life. Are these all reasons to stop seeing someone? Yes. Should I have stopped? Yes. But his longest relationship was 4 months. He was inexperienced. He didn't know better. He wanted to fight for me. People who hold his work position are a bit anti social. Excuse after excuse.
After that, it was romantic dinners, nights in the public baths, balls, walks on the beach. Everything was absolutely fairytale perfect. "I knew it," I thought to myself. I just needed some patience and everything would be fine.
We attending a thanksgiving feast with friends. Or at least we showed up in the carriage together and left in the carriage together. Where Joseph was the rest of the evening I am unsure. During the carriage ride back to the castle I got very very sick. Lets just say I didn't make it to the castle to relieve myself. When we finally arrived, I was sweating, running a fever, shaking, and my stomach might as well have been in the middle of world war 3. As Joseph walked me to the door, he asked, "Are you really sick or just being emotional?"
That was our last conversation before he went out of town. And when he returned, seeing me wasn't a priority on his list. In fact he didn't want to see me for another week after he returned.
I know, you're all scratching your heads wondering why I didn't end things then.
I tried.
I don't know if it was his deep voice, or the way his hands grabbed mine perfectly, or his full lips that I could never imagine touching anyone else's, or his broad strong shoulders, every muscle perfectly chiseled. Or maybe the way he made me laugh until my belly hurt, or the way we could talk about anything in the world, maybe the way I hadn't been able to be so open with someone in years. But alas, my breakup attempt was thwarted by my undying attraction for Joseph. And we continued to date.
And it was amazing. The holidays were perfect. We went on a trip together to another land. And it was wonderful. When we returned, he didn't kiss me goodbye but rather decided he needed to attend church (which I would have happily attended with him, had I known.)
It wasn't until the end of January when I opened up to him about a lot of my past that he decided I wasn't worthy of him. At six months of dating, we were at the point that he felt we should get engaged or married shortly after and he didn't want that with me. Or rather someone with a past such as mine. I told him fine to go figure it out. We had never said we loved each other. I wasn't ready to get married to him. I wanted to keep dating. But if that is how he felt then he needed to figure it out.
Joseph was scared of marriage. And when I asked what he was scared of with me, it was that "I loved my dog more than I'd love our children." or that I "would sit around all day while he worked hard to provide." And my past of course, which I had taken care of with my bishop. I told him if god didn't hold it against me, neither could he.
I stayed strong, but cried daily. Joseph still wrote me letters. I never replied. I prayed. Only felt to be patient. So I was.
And he came back a few weeks later.
So we kept dating.
Joseph moved closer to me. I was ecstatic. We would see each other more. We could attend church together. This would strengthen us.
It was really our undoing.
I found him a place to live, because he didn't. I helped him move all of his belongings, because no one else offered.
And as soon as he was closer, I saw him less and heard from him less. I bought him a house warming gift, a beautiful china set since he had only a couple plates and forks. It sits unopened in his cupboard. I have never seen it used.
My parents finally traveled to my castle and I excitedly planned for them to meet Joseph. They were underwhelmed after meeting him. Citing they believed him to have a social disorder and stating he would never commit to me.
But they didn't know.
They've never been wrong before, but this time they were wrong. I loved Joseph and although he had never told me it back, I knew deep down he loved me and that we would be wed.
We all attended church together. After the first hour my parents exited the pew, expecting Joseph and I to follow. Unfortunately he was too occupied with women talking to him to be worried about impressing my parents. In frustration, I shoved past one of the girls. Which for months later led to arguments about him believing I was jealous and didn't want him to have friends or to talk to anyone at church.
I just wanted my parents to love him like I did.
At a get together with his friends, there were ladies there. One of which was talking about sexual conversations with men. Joseph asked a lot of question regarding her conversations. Thankfully, this topic died.
Only for him to bring it up. Two more times. I finally said something. Which of course led to more accusations of jealousy.
I finally got the opportunity to meet his mother. An honor he had told me no other girl had ever had before. Turns out I was not the first. Or second. Or third. My meeting with his mother went very well. She was darling and kind and we had a great conversation. Joseph on the other hand, wouldn't sit near me, or stand near me, or touch me, or even make contact with me. I wouldn't be surprised if his mother questioned whether he even had the slightest of interest in me.
I met some of his other family members, who I instantly fell in love with. I attended musical concerts of his cousin (even though he would leave me while I was in the lady's room.) I watched his niece for his brother while he courted his lady (despite being divorced, they were less scared of marriage than Joseph.)
But as the months passed, Joseph still never told me he loved me. And it began to weigh on me. When I asked him, he said you can't force it. And that he cared he just shows it differently. He hides his feelings he said. I asked again months later. He said he was getting there. I believed him. He planned a ship journey for me in the fall, and I was to attend his best friend's wedding with him in the fall as well. We talked about names for our children. How we would handle finances.
Should I have been? When sometimes at gatherings, he would walk in and ignore me for up to 20 minutes before coming up to me? When he would bail on me to go out with his friends? When he would hide things from me all the time? When he called me a toddler when I would cry over my feelings being hurt? When he left me crying after a supper in a lot, in the dark, alone? When after my grandmother passed away, he didn't console me or hug me, but asked if I had a cold because I was sniffling?
It took until I was tired of being mistreated for us to come undone. I had had it and said something. Which caused him to need to rethink our relationship. He asked why I wanted to be with him when I began begging him to stay.
I told him it was the way he held me and the way I felt safe there. The way his heartbeat was the only music I needed the rest of my life. It was the fact that if I never got to see places I had dreamed of my whole life it was alright, because no place would ever be as wonderful as being held in his arms was. It was the way I loved every person in his family and wanted to give them the world after hardly knowing them. It was the way I would see things and think of him and how he would love that. It was the cheap candles he would light. Or the fact he wore shoes with holes in them, because he refused to spend money on something new. It was how he burnt the cake he made on my birthday, because he was lost in conversation with me. It was how I attended things I had no interest in before, but now wanted to do because he loved doing them. Or how he didn't like my taste of music, but would listen if it made me happy. It was the after church naps we took together in which him laying beside me was better than any dream I could possibly have in my unconscious state. It was the way his hand clutched his stomach while the other went to his mouth when he would say something he thought was funny. And his embarrassingly inappropriate jokes that I never had any response to other than to roll my eyes. It was the feeling of wanting to be there to rub his feet and make him supper after a long work day. Or to be there to care for him if he were ever injured, because the thought of him being in pain made me feel pain. It was his insanely attractive dance moves that while half of them were silly and ridiculous, the other half were so sexy. It was the way that even if I felt so angry or frustrated at him, that a prayer would fill me with peace and an extreme amount of love for him. It was the way he complained every time he spent money, but would still spend it on me. It was the pink brush he used to comb his hair. Or the nights I'd spend cutting his insane cowlick in the back of his hair. His brown hair that I wanted to run my fingers through forever. It was the way that I always wanted to run to him to feel better. Or that anything I wanted to try I wanted him by my side for. It was the inspirational speeches he gave me when times were hard. It was the hours I spent looking at homes or trips or things to surprise him with. It was the brown eyed, brown haired, olive skinned babies I could see in his arms in our future. It was the way we both had the same goals and values in life. It was the way he looked in white in the temple. And the way I felt when he took my hand. It was the way I feel every time I think back to the night I almost didn't go to the ball and think to myself, what if I hadn't. It was the way I was fighting for him now. Unwilling to let him go.
Days passed until I received a letter. Joseph didn't come to me in person. In the letter, he said that he realized after not seeing me for a week that he did not miss me, nor care to see me or talk to me. He wrote that any of my spiritual feelings regarding our relationship were made up simply because I wanted to be with him so badly. He said that he could not see himself loving me. When picturing his five year plan, the thought of me being in it made him sick.
I didn't shed a tear. I couldn't breathe. I responded with an ok and asked him to attend the church meeting in which he was in the boundaries for.
That was all I asked.
And that was apparently too much.
Because he still attends my church meeting. Even though he isn't in the boundaries.
He has get togethers with my friends at his house weekly.
He attends my church class, the one he never would attend with me.
He tried to talk to me once. I politely turned my attention to someone else. If he had wanted my attention, he shouldn't have broken up with me.
He's had a lot of female attention since. And I've had to watch, and pretend I don't care. While it kills me inside.
Because although it wasn't what I wanted or thought was going to happen,
...we lived happily never after.
