I met
my husband Mark initially as a friend,
on a Saturday night at Club Congress, in Tucson Arizona.
We had three dates,
when he decided it would be better to be friends.
I think he expected me to run away,
but I held his hand and said that was fine.
I had never had a close male platonic friend before.
I began dating other men over
the next year
and spent tremendous time trying to convince myself
that I truly was content
not being anything more with Mark than a friend.
Yet every man I dated seemed to
be lacking
the humor,
or the style,
the essence
of what made Mark so unique,
so stunning.
I would date in front of him,
and would subconsciously compare every hair on their head,
every meticulous detail of their character to him.
He would date as well,
leaving an eternal lump in my throat
that seemed unrelenting
until one woman left and a new one would enter
Christmas came, of 1994...it hit me that holiday.
He went to Florida with friends,
and I had a houseguest named Oliver,
with a thick Austrian accent,
and an obvious desire to steer my love life
in a direction that was on his own agenda.
The ironic thing
was,
this house guest and I *were* just friends,
and I would tell him in confidence
about my growing love for Mark.
"He
does not love you"
he would
respond flatly.
" I asked him,
he has no interest in anything more than just friendship."
The night he told me this,
I went to bed in tears...
lying in my bed crying,
while the phone rang,
and Mark asked to speak with me.
"She is
going to marry me.
I get along with the boys,
and we are a family,
you are just being difficult about this,
she does not love you."
Mark hung up the phone feeling betrayed,
and hurt.
He later told me he was coming to terms
with his feelings for me at that time as well.
It took months to move past that,
seeing him each day,
the silent understanding that we each knew
the other wanted nothing more than friendship,
but inside,
a deep longing was building.
It would be a year one night as we danced
at "The Works"
and I told him, I took a breath and shouted out...."I love you!"
I had blurted it out...there was no turning back, no where to hide.
He stood swaying to the music
with his mouth open,
my heart in my throat.
"I'm in love with you, I always
have been"
I continued cautiously....
He danced in the same two steps for a full minute,
leaving the heat of potential embarrassment
just enough time to flush my entire face
and then he leaned forward and said
"I'm in
love with you too." William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
Doubt thou the stars are fire
Doubt that the sun doth move
Doubt truth to be a liar
But never doubt I love.
English dramatist, poet
Copyright
© 2004 Maryanne & Mark F. Chisholm. All rights reserved.
