This is going to sound horribly creepy, but I don’t have any other place to say this. But I have to say it. I’ve been here since 2003, so I hope at least some of you sort of know me, and won’t judge me too harshly.
–
I met her when she was 15 years old, and I immediately fell in love with her. She was just a girl at my church. We found ourselves in conversation one Sunday after the service. She was so comfortably easy to talk to, and she was wonderfully happy to have a conversation with me. Listening to her, it was painfully obvious that she was incredibly intelligent. And well-spoken. And happy to talk to me. Yes, I said that already. I said it again on purpose.
She could sing like an angel. Our pastor’s wife was (and still is) a voice teacher, and she was her student. She eventually joined the worship team at church, where I was already the bass guitarist. The music became so much better once she added her voice.
She wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense. In fact, she was downright plain. My love for her had/has nothing to do with how she looks.
The reason I said this would be creepy is … when I met her, when she was 15, I was 32. I can see now that her easy conversation with me back then was simply a case of a loquacious teenage girl talking to an adult, with no other expectation than simple conversation. In fact, one of our conversations, when she was 17, involved her telling me how creeped out she was when another guy, a few years younger than me, asked her when she would be 18.
I never said anything inappropriate to her when she was under 18. I have never said anything remotely sexual to her, despite the fact that I’m totally in love with her, in all of the years we’ve known each other. The worst I have done is maybe a longing glance at her.
I’m finally confessing this because of the “non-creepy formula” that has been promulgated here. I’m 48 now, and she is 31. 48/2+7=31. I can now finally ask her out without it being “creepy”.
Except that now I still can’t. I’m still in love with her, all these years later. But she’s engaged to a military man who she only gets to see two days each year for the past three years. I can’t even fathom how that works. I still get to see her almost every week at church, and all I can do is glance at her and hope the longing in my eyes isn’t too obvious.
And she sings even more like an angel now that her voice has matured.
Her mother is a now-retired seamstress, and so she has those skills. I sent her a message today on Facebook asking how much she would charge to re-sew some buttons on my chef coats. She said, “LOL, nothing!” So I’ll buy some new buttons, and bring them to her along with the chef coats. And I suspect nothing will happen beyond her sewing the buttons on for me, and me trying desperately to not look at her in the “wrong” way.