Sinners and Saints

“I think to love bravely is the best and to accept as much as one can bear.”

Once upon a time, in the far away land of Curry County, a sinner met a saint. His name was Ray and we had met at the last place I had ever thought of to meet men: church.

When I started going back to an actual church I was not only a little hesitant, I was also court mandated. I was sentenced a twenty-four week stint in the local Celebrate Recovery chapter. Turns out, if you drink and drive you will lose. But that’s a story for another time.

When I walked into the doors I was greeted warmly just like I always had when I was a kid and would enter my family’s choice of a chapel that year. I had grown up and walked through many doors, sat in a lot of pews and heard a lot of interpretation of the Bible. But when it came down to it, my parent’s opinion was the law of the land. I couldn’t even think without wondering if I had sinned in some way. When I was twenty I grew out of that fear and guilt, threw out my copy of “The World according To Mommy and Daddy” and picked up the concept of thinking for myself. I decided that it’d be a cold day in Hell before I set foot in another church again. And on a bitterly cold January evening I attended my first meeting.

I kind knew what to expect from my many years in the pew. Praising, praying and preaching. Nothing I hadn’t seen before. I sat in the back with the other delinquents; them, with their baggy pants and me with my man bag. I daydreamt through the sermon and bowed my head in meditation during prayer. I figured since I was in a church why not at least try working on my spirituality.

One night when I was randomly looking around at the flock of sheep in the rows of chairs in front of me someone caught my eye. I didn’t know who he was (as small as this town is) but was it my imagination or did he turn around a lot in my direction? He seemed to possess a mysterious air about him. I was immediately drawn to him but felt too shy to summon any kind of courage to talk to him. It’s was clear that he had a strong faith, but if he loved thy neighbor, did he love to play for the same team as me? He had tattoos, a shaved head and looked like someone you wouldn’t want to be caught in a dark alley with (unless you saw him smile *melt*) that didn’t exactly encourage me to speak to him like I had hoped. Instead we continued our game of sneaking glances at each other which, sort of intrigued me.

One night after hanging with my friend Renee, and after a few cocktails at the local college bar, she dropped me off at home and I proceeded to log onto my Facebook. And yes, I realize that it’s a little weird to come home from a bar after being convicted of drinking and driving and let me say that I’m not perfect and at least I had a designated driver this time. But I digress.

Upon scrolling through my newsfeed I hit that “People You May Know” section and who did I see, but Ray himself. There he was and I was just a click away from getting to know him more. It might have been the Long Island Ice tea’s talking but I was no longer in control of what happened next. What’s the worst that could happen? He denies the request? Ok, then at least I know what side of the fence he lives on. So with a deep breath and with my hand over my eyes, I clicked the “add friend” button. I went to bed regretting it and feeling like I should stop trying to hit on possible straight men and stick to what I know: being Teflon for men.

I awoke the next morning with a notification that Ray had approved my request. I knew that it would be creepy to start checking out his profile right then and there. . . . . So that’s why I waited till after eating lunch. I learned that he was really into thriller and action movies, God and as at it turns out, men.

Later that day I got an instant message from him. I felt the familiar stir of nerves and excitement in my stomach. Something I hadn’t felt since in quite some time. He was great conversation and a little flirt too. He admitted that he wanted to talk to me just as much as I have wanted to talk to him, but we were both painfully shy to do so. He eventually asked me out on a date and I happily accepted.

It was a late Sunday afternoon when I met with The Saint. We hung out at a bookstore and drank coffees and talked. It wasn’t the normal sort of date you dream about and that’s what I liked about it. We were just ourselves and I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t try so hard to impress a guy. I was able to be a stripped down version of myself that even I was surprised about how I was acting. We talked about a lot and at the same time, nothing. It felt like one giant conversation with no end and I didn’t want it to. We were both open about our upbringing, coming out and even past relationships.

“There’s nothing that you could say that could freak me out.” He said with his signature handsome smile that also made it seem like his eyes lit up. I was used to smoldering pits of fire when I’d look into a man’s eyes. But his were like a body of water: serene and sparkling.

Crap.

Not only was he handsome but he was also a honey tongued devil. There was no denying it now; I was smitten with this guy. The date after that consisted of us going to the local walking trail at night. Here’s a little fact about taking me out on dates: It really doesn’t take a lot to entertain me or impress me. Even if we entered a pie eating contest! As long as you’re having fun then so will I. We didn’t stick with it for too long. The lightening that night had joined the rumbling sounds of thunder signaling a big storm approaching. We got back to his car just in time before the gates of heaven opened up with enough rain to start another flood. We sat in his car and just talked while watching the rain fall. Talking in a car without the expectation of sex was definitely something I was experiencing for the first time. What I liked most about him was that he respected my boundaries. He always asked “Is this ok?” before grabbing my hand or putting his arms around me. Most guys just took it upon themselves to manhandle me like I was a piece of property. But not Ray, he had chivalry and charm just oozing off of him. He kissed me that night. It wasn’t awkward and neither was I.

Alas, like most great things in life, a “Sex and The City” marathon on the style channel, three day weekends or reading an amazing book, they all have to come to an end. I was having such a great time with Ray. He had this way about him. I can’t really put my finger on it. He had a knack for making me feel ok about being myself. It was like I didn’t have to put on this dazzling persona just to keep him interested. I felt like I sparkled in a different way now.

 But when I replayed some of our conversations in my head it occurred to me just how many things were on his plate at the moment and spending time with me was just overflow. I began to feel silly being yoked to my cell phone day after day wondering when he’d get in touch with me again and then I felt selfish for wanting part of his time when he had so much going on. I’m not in the business of putting pressure on anything or anyone. If you don’t have the time, it’s not your fault.

Two slow and agonizing months went by before a message notification went off in my phone. It was from Rey. After my heart rate came back down and my hands stopped trembling I finally opened it.

Ray: How come you don’t hit me up anymore?

Me: I’m sorry. I have no excuse not to.

Ray: I just think you’re not into me anymore.

Me: Completely the opposite actually.

I went on to tell him that I like him a lot but that the size of his fan club (his endless list of flirty Facebook guy friends. I mean, not that I would know or anything. I think a little jealousy never hurt anyone) Can really do a number on a guy’s confidence. Why pick the runt when you had your pick of the litter? Two more days later and I told him that if we had any hope of becoming anything we had to have two way lines of communication.

He agreed.

It was a Monday afternoon and we decided to meet at a park in town. I picked the first bench I saw and pulled out a book to wait for him. It wasn’t long before I heard a familiar voice. “Hey, handsome”

            I looked up and there he was, and suddenly I felt like he wasn’t a mirage. He put his arm around me and I rested my head on his shoulder. It felt right; it felt like I could do it a million times. He smiles with his eyes and my pulse quickens. I don’t know what happens to me when I come in contact with him. It’s like I’m naked but I’m comfortable with it. My mind feels like a blank slate and I can’t help but ramble because I’ve never felt so out in the open and comfortable at the same time with anyone. When I told him I was writing something about him I almost slapped myself, but I finished by saying I didn’t know how to end it because of that weird two months between us. He looked at me and leaned in closer and kissed me and said, “Now you do”.

            We watched the light of the setting sun fade into a bright orange then a rose pink and finally a dark blue. I don’t know where the time goes when we’re together. I loved hearing his voice and also sharing those comfortable silences. I wasn’t about to put an end on this story, but I think I might have actually started writing a new one.