As pure as our intentions were, our flesh was unable to wait.
This became the web we were constantly tangled in. That space between being in love- wanting one another in worst way and still wanting to please God and have him bless our union.
Us giving in, the night before the move, solidified my desire to marry him. We exceeded all expectations we had of one another sexually...which made the magnetic attraction that we felt for one another even stronger.
Unfortunately, it created a situation where my crazy started to seep out.
Charles had proven himself to be the best thing that ever happened to me. But the more he proved himself, the more I began aggressively looking for red flags.
The first red flag was the "Controling African" stereotype.
Charles is hyper mascaline. An alpha male. This was super attractive at first.
Most of the guys I dated, weren't interested in taking the lead. They never had their sh*t together so, I was always in a position of control. Being smarter, more established and more street savvy often gave me the upper hand in relationships. I was used to doing what I wanted, when I wanted, how I wanted, and the man just being happy to be in the picture.
With Charles, it was nice not to have to make all the decisions. It was amazing to just rest in Charles take-charge-ness. I hadn't experienced this at this level before.
Even my dad was more passive than my mom. I loved the fact that he was decisive when I was indecisive. He is logical, exteremly intelligent, and very mature. The 5 year age gap plays a major role in this.
I am the more playful whimsical creative side of the spectrum, while Charles is very mater-of-fact about life. Black and white.
I liked to think of myself as a submissive. I had practiced. At least in my head. I played over and over again in my mind a reel movie of me being the submissive wife that I had planned to be since I was a little girl.
In many ways I considered myself to be traditional. I loved to cook. I was pretty even tempered. I knew how to live modestly. I did my own hair and nails. I was a good listener. I was never the type to love going out to clubs or living a fast life. I understood the fragility of the male ego. I understood what a virtuous wife on paper should be (at least biblically). I anticipated that I would be the kind of wife most men dreamed of. Strongly understanding and celebrating the differences between women and men, I arrogantly assumed I was ready to take on marriage with anyone...especially Charles. This would be a piece a cake.
However, even in those beginning dating phases with Charles, I found myself resisting his perceived "control."
Charles on paper was what most would consider a goodie two shoes. He chose to do things the right way in most situations. That meant for me that he expected perfection in his spouse. I was (and am) far from perfection.
I was a free spirit. Again, very used to doing whatever I wanted; whenever I wanted; however I wanted.
This was true about the way I dressed, my messy apartment, my diet, the company I kept, my social life, how I responded to family members who didn't respond to me how I thought they should, my entreprenuerial ventures, everything.
I had a lot of male friends. Many of which were exes or at least male friends who I had called on lonely nights to scratch an "itch." Charles, expected that since he had just met me weeks before, I should sever the relationships with these friends. I had known many of them for many years. Several of which I was very close to and spoke to daily. They each served a purpose.
Some of them were just great to talk to. Other's had specific skills; like being able to fix cars. or move furniture, choose great restaurants, give great advice, stroke my ego. I wasn't ready to let go of the benefits that came with having a rolodex of men at my beckoned call.
It wasn't really about the friends. Maybe it was a little, but it was mostly about the fact that Charles believed he could control who I speak to, spend time with and remain in relationship with.
That discussion quickly lead to us breaking up.
I needed to carefully evaluate if I was willing to throw away the future I was building with this amazing man I had only been dating for a month, for the right to keep in touch with the men of my past. This and other self sabbatoging continued on and off for the next month.
Almost weekly breaking up and getting back together.
Then 2 months and 10 days after our first date, Charles got on one knee and proposed.
I thought he was joking.
We were not even technically in a relationship at the time. We were in a clothing store in the mall. We had decided to return to the friendship phase of Christian dating.
He wasn't joking.
He pulled the ring box out of his jacket pocket and got on one knee. When I saw the Neil Lane ring from Kay Jewelers that we looked at on Black Friday, I knew he wasn't joking.
Imagine the discomfort of explaining to everyone you know that you are engaged to the African you met 2 months ago on Facebook.
The discomfort of that. The chatter. The naysayers. The back and forth. None of it made me question Charles' committment to me or how right it felt.
We had two beautiful engagement parties. An American one at my place with friends who celebrated our union.
The other Ghanaian one was called the knocking of the door ceremony. His entire family came to my parents house, where all of my family was gathered, to ask for my hand in marriage officially. They assured my family that Charles would be faithful to me; and that if we ever had a problem out of him, we were to contact the male elders in his family who would get him back in line.
I've never had to contact them.
Two months later, Charles and I snuck off and got married.
Seven and a half years later, we are still in marital bliss. Ok maybe not complete bliss.
It depends on which day you ask.