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“You’ve had sex before?” Her hand releases from my back and I’m terrified of the feelings of betrayal in her voice.
I can’t look her in the eyes, so I look down at my hands instead. “Yes. I’m not very proud of it. But I did have sex with someone years ago. We weren’t married, but I loved her. I wanted to be with her, and I wanted her. So, we had sex. And I regretted it. It felt good in the moment, but then I hated myself for days afterwards. I prayed and I prayed, and I couldn’t lose the feeling of guilt. Eventually, we broke up because of it.”
She gasps. I can’t bring myself to look up at her face to see whether it’s filled with disgust or empathy. “This is really hard for me. Not having sex with you. But I don’t want us to end up like that. I don’t want to feel guilty for loving you. It’s already hard enough keeping this a secret, but to have sex and then look at the congregation, to pray to God and feel guilty about us. I can’t do it again.”
I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t. There’s a shake in my voice as I continue, “I just want to do the right thing. I want us to be okay. I want to do what’s right for us. And if that means I can’t have sex, that’s what it means. I’m not happy about it, but I think that’s what’s right.”
Despite my body desiring all of Sam, I know that it’s the rightthing to wait. Maybe later down the line I’ll feel more comfortableexploring our physical side. But right now, I can’t have sex. It would go against everything I’ve been preaching for years. My body aches for her, it wants to have her.
I’ve never felt so strongly about someone in my life. There’s been women here and there, and the occasional mistake. But I don’t want Sam to be a mistake. I don’t want her to be another number. I want her to be the one for me. I want to end up with her. And if that’s the end game I’m looking at, we have to wait.
I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but it needs to be done. I can barely hang on as it is, so I hope Sam will help me in this. I hope I didn’t just ruin everything by telling her I’ve had sex before. “Please, don’t be mad at me.”
“Mad at you?”
“I don’t want you to think I don’t want you. And I don’t want you to be afraid to kiss me or touch me without me going off the deep end. It’s just really difficult to control myself around you. You’re a gorgeous woman who loves me. How can I resist that?”
I finally look up at her, and it’s not betrayal I find. It’s compassion. Tears sit on the brim of her eyelids. And she looks me up and down as if thinking of the perfect thing to say, but nothing is coming out of her mouth.
“I’m so sorry, Sam.”
She pulls my head in and kisses the top of it. “Let’s start this movie. Maybe we just need something to distract us. We got this. We can work on this together.”
And I know I love her. I know I love her because this is what love is. Recognizing each other and what we need. And then working together to find a solution. This is where I want to be for the rest of my life. In her arms, listening to her laugh at the most ridiculous movie I’ve ever seen.
