"Getting older's not been on my plans"

  On evenings like these: when the hormones are imbalanced and the mood swings like a pendulum, I am reminded that I am not the sole reason I have a solid relationship. I still find it hard that things can be peachy one moment, and without fair warning not okay the next.   "What's wrong, love?" "I am just feeling blah." I cut the evening short with him; however, it was absolutely nothing he did. It was just necessary. I couldn't sit there and pretend that I was in a good mood to spend time with him. I was irritable and needed to see the road.   So, I took a drive. I do realize that once married I may need a drive but the car will find its way back to his driveway instead of my own. I still may need the drive, and I am okay with that. It's a coping mechanism that helps. The problem is that I feel bad that he is left in the dirt.   "Are you home safely, love?" "Almost." "Oh, okay." Oddly enough, he doesn't feel left in

  For as long as I can remember, I used to make up stories in my head. As I got older, most of them revolved around a romance, something I didn't have. I would create detailed stories of romantic trips to far off places; happenstance meetings of a famous musician and how they would fall in love with me; being chosen to be in a Oscar-winning movie and make the main actor fall head over heels. In fact, sometimes, I would imagine how it would be around my friends and family and such. I honestly think I used this crutch to be okay with not dating till I was much older.   When I got into my first relationship, I realized the fantasy relationships stopped. But then I realized they didn't stop they morphed. I could try to defend him and excuse him from the tears and the pain and the hurt heart, but I won't. While in the midst of those things, my mind would build imaginary stories of a perfect relationship with him. Ones in which he spent time with me; ones where he cherished our

For some reason, dating my first boyfriend was hard. I was 21; he was 18. We were together for maybe 2 months. I am even reluctant to call him my boyfriend. Classic story of he wanted me; I was bored...voila. And not too long before I broke it off, I found myself in the sacristy talking to my then pastor. I was confused and hurt. I honestly can't even remember why. But he changed me that day.   He told me this: when he was discerning the priesthood two weeks prior to ordination, he struggled. He struggled so much he was beginning to believe his choice of vocation was wrong. His spiritual director at the time told him to pray. He told him to spend one solid week praying as though he was going to leave formation. Leaning all prayer toward that thought. Then, he told him to pray the next solid week as though he was going to stay and become the priest that he believed, at one point, he was supposed to be.   And as he prayed, he struggled. His mind wanted to wander and his desire want

  I had never been so persued. I found it truly flattering, even though he was someone I would NEVER date. He was a country music listening, small town living, Budweiser drinking, persistent when I didn't want him to be young man, and I did NOT want to go have drinks with him. He bugged me about it for at least 3 months. Till I found myself single, independent, and carefree, I did not take him up on his offer. Until the night of June 3rd.   One year ago, white boy and I went on our first outting. If you ask me, it was a hang out. If you ask him, it was a date. Looking back, I am acquiesced to both. It was a hang out that turned into a date. And it started me on a long path to self discovery, painful healing, and falling in love with the man who makes me a better woman.   He had taken me to the casino. It wasn't the first time I had been there, and although it was not my cup of tea, I was having a great time. Don't tell him, but mainly because I caught him staring at me so