Exibit 0001:
Dedicated to my beloved
Chapter
For much of my early life, I was heavily skeptical of the concept of marriage. Whenever I saw my two lovebird parents sharing a passionate kiss or gab about their experiences as a couple, I (as children tend to) often felt grossed out or embarrassed. Due to my young, inexperienced worldview, I couldn’t see the love they had for each other as love, merely shenanigans likely meant at my expense specifically. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. Sure, I deeply appreciated the friends I had at the time, but the idea of binding your self, your goals, your aspirations with the separate aspirations and goals and whatnot of someone else; consigning yourself to be metaphorically wrapped around the finger of person… I just didn’t see the appeal, only the yucky cooties my parents continually spread with their flagrant smooches.
I continued to not see the appeal even after I met ██████. The day I did, I was drawing a soccer ball on my desk (yes, the wood of my desk.) and she gave a compliment to my drawing skills. Then the teacher heard us talking and chewed me out when she realized I was desk-doodling. I was kind of mad at her for that, though not mad enough to avoid her, thankfully for us. At recess a few days later, she sat next to me on the swing set and apologized for getting me in trouble.
I thought I knew what was going to happen at that point. I (being 7) thought girls were silly, and saw the whole “getting married” thing as a challenge to be rather than the yuckiness I saw it as. I thought this conversation was going to swiftly devolve into her asking for my hand in MAWWIAGE, and prepared a swift yet soft refusal beforehand. That never happened. Instead, we spent that whole recess talking about how goofy our teachers were. It was an odd thing, but after a while of talking with her like that, I began to see her like I did my friends. Y’know, despite her being a girl or whatever. (again, I was 7.)
My other friend group at the time was this group of other boys, and when I told them I had made friends with ██████ the second thing they asked in response was if I was going to marry her. (The first was how I survived getting cooties.) I immediately rebutted, no, I like her just as a friend. They said that no girl ever hangs out with one of their squad, so if she’s hanging around with me, she must loooooove me. (in retrospect, I think they just sucked to be around.)
I begged for that not to be true. I still couldn’t handle the idea of throwing my life away with marriage, not on this girl! I couldn’t lose what we had now, our real, simple, genuine friendship!
Soon after, I rushed off and begged ██████ to tell me she doesn’t love me.
Clearly, young me had a lot to learn about love. Hopefully the fact that I’m writing this book is evidence enough that I learned it.