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“Mecca, wait.” She took me by the hand again, but this time, I pulled away. “It’s not like that. Carter and I considered getting back together, but like he said, I don’t give exes second chances.”
“That’s not what I asked you. I asked you if you wanted to be with him.”
“No, I don’t. We aren’t compatible.”
Semi-satisfied with her answer, I headed to the game room, and she returned to the kitchen. If she didn’t give exes second chances, that included me, too. Even if I wasn’t the man she thought I was because of that letter, I was still an ex. I was disappointed, but I wouldn’t take that out on her. She was entitled to her boundaries and preferences. I wouldn’t go against that.
I lost myself in my thoughts downstairs while she made dinner. When she came down to let me know it was done, I avoided telling her that I didn’t have an appetite. I followed her to the dining room, and my stomach growled as my eyes took in the feast she’d prepared. Fried chicken, Brussels sprouts, herb rice, and candied yams quickly made my appetite return. Then she had the nerve to fix sweet potato cornbread to go with it.
We sat across from each other at the six-person wooden table. I said grace and we began to silently eat. Not too much time passed before she was huffing her frustration.
“You want to talk about what shifted your mood?” she asked, staring at me.
“It’s not important.”
“How you feel is important to me.”
I shoved a fork full of rice into my mouth as I considered her words. When I swallowed, I admitted, “I know we haven’t talked about us and where this is going, but hearing that you don’t give exes a second chance is disappointing. Now that we know the truth, or at least the truth that concerns us, I was hoping we could start dating and get married.”
She almost choked on the wine she was drinking. I stood to pat her back, but she motioned for me to sit down as she grabbed her throat and coughed.
“I’m fine,” she choked out. She took another small sip and a deep breath. “You just caught me off guard going straight to marriage without a relationship first.”
“Fifteen years have been wasted, baby. You werealwayssupposed to be my wife. That hasn’t changed.”
“That’s true, butwe’vechanged. We don’t even know how compatible we’d be.”
“That’s what the dating is for.”
Her expression was unreadable for a while before it softened and she gave me a smile. “I would like for you to be the exception to my rule, Mec. Now that I know the letter wasn’t from you, I feel safer trying with you again. There are some things we would need to discuss first before we even start dating to make sure we’re on the same page. It’s important to me that I don’t have a marriage and life like my mom.”
“Okay, so we can discuss that tonight after dinner. And if we’re on the same page, I’ll start planning our first date.”
“I like the sound of that,” she cooed with a blush.
With that weight resolved, we finished our dinner without issue. When it was over, we decided to walk to the coffee shop up the street. I liked how she indulged in comfort food but took whole, healthy eating seriously too. I liked how active she was. We both prioritized exercise, which was important to me. Knowing how much she loved swimming had me making the mental note to start the process of finding someone who could put a pool in the backyard. I wanted my wife to be able to have her every desire.
As we walked, she shared more about her childhood with me, and it gave me a different perspective on traditional marriage. Hearing about her mother basically having no identity outside of a wife and mother helped me understand why that wasn’t the role she wanted for herself. I didn’t mind my wife working at all as long as she knew she didn’t have to. I planned to pay all the bills regardless of how much money she made.
For me, the better I treated her and made her feel, the better she would treat me. The more peaceful her life was, the more peace she’d bring to me. What problem a lot of men had was wanting their woman to operate a certain way but they didn’t provide the environment for her to flourish in it. Shalom wouldn’t have to worry about that with me. Women in my past flourished when I took the role of leader and provider. That wouldn’t change when I got married.
I told her that she could work as much as she wanted just as long as our family didn’t feel neglected, and she would be able to hold me to the same standard. We would always make time for ourselves, each other, and our kids. That was her biggest issue, and I could literally see relief fill her when I told her I would never try to strip away her identity and career. Apparently, Carter wanted her to stop working if they got married, which was why they broke up.
We also talked about things like how we’d raise our kids, debt and credit, more gender roles and expectations, and work and retirement plans. Travel desires, holiday traditions, and even how we expressed sadness and anger came up too. It was the first time I’d ever talked about things like this with a woman, and it immediately made me feel closer to her and more prepared to have a healthy marriage.
By the time we finished our coffee, a wide smile was on her face as she wrapped her arm around mine and rested her head on my shoulder. I was glad talking like this had brought her such happiness and peace.
“Talking like this with you has helped me realize I don’t want to be a housewife or stay-at-home mom, based on society’s definition of those terms, but I do want a husband and children and to care for and nurture them. I feel like the way I’ve explained it in the past has made me sound selfish, but you’ve helped me normalize what I want.”
“Yeah, I mean… What good is having a man pay all the bills if you don’t have the time and money to enjoy life? If you’re too tired because you spend your days cooking, cleaning, and seeing after the kids while he does his own thing? I completely get you wanting to work to maintain your independence, but I’m also going to make sure you have help with household things, so you’ll never be overwhelmed by them.” Her chin rested on my shoulder, and she gave me those innocent eyes I’d fallen in love with. “Nannies, personal chef, housekeeper, and a house manager to take care of the bills… that’s what you have to look forward to. When you want to cook, you can, but I’m not hiring you to be my mom or my worker. I’m marrying you to be my life partner.”
She giggled before giving me a soft kiss. “But if we have help for all of those things, what are you going to expect me to do?”
“I think that’s a good place for us to talk about what we want, need, offer, and what induces our happiness.”
And we did. She wanted love, security, and true companionship. She needed fun and freedom. Outside of her love and presence, she offered her softness, submission, and influence along with true partnership.
I told her that was all I’d really need from her—being my partner… my lover… my friend.
