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Temporary Insanity (from Chapter Five)
In case moving in with someone I’ve known less than a week and considering eventually uprooting my life for him aren’t sufficiently certifiable things to do, I find a way to up the insanity ante.
I decide I’m also going to marry him.
Becoming betrothed has always been glaringly absent from my bucket list. I am the queen of the honeymoon phase. I love the magic of first kisses. I love new love!
Love isn’t blindness; it’s the complete opposite of such. It’s the ability to see another clearly through the eyes of the soul, beyond personality, projection and past experiences. The blindness part sets in when we start seeing through the lens of ego, and the illusion of separation forces one to become two again.
Once my ego gets hold of the reins, it tends to steer me in the exact opposite direction of my relationships. It seems like a good time to change that. Assuming I get refocused soon, I will be publishing a book with the intention of helping others navigate relationships more easily. Isn’t it time to stick around when things get a little uncomfortable with one of my own?
I’ve decided I’m going to see this one through, come what may. I trust in my ability to primarily focus on the good in this man, since there is so much of it, and the higher purpose of our connection. I trust we are both evolved enough to support one another through whatever challenges arise in our relationship and get through them together.
My first marriage proposal is inspired by an even higher reason. I’m a giver by nature; if there is a way to improve someone else’s life, I usually make that choice, sometimes at my own expense. The musician already has my love, a love so strong it wants to provide another priceless gift: the prospect of a green card.
I empathize with how tough his life in the US has been without one, how much he’s struggled in over a decade in this country. I can’t imagine life without the rights I take for granted here. I have the power to make life easier for him and his daughter and even if we don’t last forever as a couple, I figure we’ll always be friends.
I can think of no good reason not to do this, other than the completely obvious ones – like the fact that I’ve known him all of about eight seconds. Still. Not offering would feel like owning a castle and not letting anyone else stay there.
We are fittingly enjoying a romantic dinner at a restaurant from his country of origin when the inspiration arrives. I express my offer instantaneously, before I have a chance to think myself out of it.
Like a child who has received the exact present he’s always wanted on Christmas, his face lights up. His eyes fill with tears, but then his expression goes blank. He looks down and begins to play with a straw wrapper. Uh oh.
“I have something to confess,” he says, his eyes avoiding the piercing gaze of mine.
I am not at all sure I want to know what it is.
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