Hey, We Had Dinner Together, Didn't We?

I pull into the Wendy's parking lot, make almost a full circuit before I see an empty spot and pull in. I'm a little late, but it's fine. At least I'm here.

I walk in and scan the restaurant, all plastic and shiny and smelling like crispiness and sugar. I see her at a booth and head over.

"Hey!" she says, getting up to hug me.

"No, don't get up," I say, smiling distractedly. "Er, well yeah, get up." I laugh as I pull out my phone. "We need to order, I guess."

We get in line and she starts asking me about my day. I deflect mostly, just trying to get to the cashier.

"WelcomeToWendy'sForHereOrToGo?"

"TFor here," I say. "Lemme get a 10-piece with sweet and sour and a water."

I text as we take our food back to our booth. I'm not trying to be rude, this text is just about work.

We sit down.

"So," she says, smiling. "How--"

"Aren't you gonna eat?" I ask, nodding at her burger. I can't point because I'm holding chicken nuggets in both hands.

"Yeah..." She picks up the Junior Bacon Cheeseburger. "So--"

"One sec." Another text, but it's work again, so it's not a legitimate diss. It's just--sorry. "Okay." I set my phone down with an air of finality. "I actually only have like five minutes before I need to head out, but what's up with you? Oh, but lemme tell you about what happened yesterday. You seriously would not believe..."

Between bites of whole nuggets, I fill her in on my day, ending with a modest request for her to drop off some milk at my place later. I want to make the really good hot chocolate.

"So this was fun!" I say, raking my trash onto the tray and standing up. "Dinner tomorrow, same time and place?"

She smiles, looking a little sad, which is ridiculous because I just offered her my time again for tomorrow.

"Yeah," she says. "Tomorrow. Maybe I can call you later toni--"

"Gosh, I don't know," I say. I speak over my shoulder as I dump my wrappers and containers into the trash. "Tonight's kind of busy. How about I just see you tomorrow? Okay? Great."

In Jesus' name,
Amen.

I would never treat my friends this way. So why do I treat God this way?

Feeling convicted this morning.

~Stephanie

What Had Happened Was...

Some people are sick of me telling this story. But some people still haven't heard it. So, people in the second group, here it is. The Night Gabe Proposed.

It was before dinner on New Year's Ever, my second favorite holiday (after the Fourth of July), and Gabe and I sat on the screened porch in Mom's big square armchair. (To make room for the Christmas tree, Mom's chair gets relocated every December.)

"Do you still wanna do fireworks tonight?" Gabe asked.

"Definitely. Just us?"

"Mm. Yeah. What would be more Meaningful to you, before or after midnight?"

I thought. "After," I said. "That'll be easier if we want it to be just us. We can just wait for everyone to leave."

"True. Okay."

Dinner was spectacularly good. Pork chops, mashed potatoes, corn casserole, iced tea...

Every year for New Year's Eve, we get all dressed up. And go nowhere. Sarah and I invite a couple of close friends and we all eat snacks and watch The Twilight Zone and play games and generally have the funnest New Year's Eves ever.

This was Gabe's and my fourth New Year's Eve together. Actually, now that I think about it, he is the ONLY one who has ALWAYS come.

True to tradition, Gabe, Cassidy, James, Sarah, my parents, and I played Monopoly and Ticket to Ride. We took a break and visited Jesse at Taco Bell who sadly had to work that night.

11:50pm arrived and we gathered in the living room to watch the ball drop in New York. Five minutes later it was 11:55 and we passed around the glasses of sparkling cider. Four minutes and fifty seconds later, we began chanting the countdown.

Ten, nine, eight... I looked at Gabe. I never used to be a sappy person, but I can't even tell you how excited I was to have my first real New Years Kiss.

Seven, six, five... "At zero?" Gabe asked me. I nodded.

Four, three, two...

One. Add "Real New Years Kiss" to my list of experiences.

We all drank our sparkling cider and walked around clinking glasses. I felt really good. Especially good. I felt sort of giddy and floaty, like liquid sunshine was sloshing around inside me. 2016 had a great ring to it.

I had just gone to sit with Cass on the couch when Gabe announced, "All right. Let's go shoot off fireworks." Everyone looked excited.

I stared at him. Oh. Guess it wasn't going to be just us after all.

I said as much, clearly put off by the change in plans, but went to get my coat. Gabe followed me, completely confused.

I glared at him. "You can't announce fireworks at a party if you don't want everyone to go!" I said to him in the hall. "I wanted it to be just us too, but now everyone has to come. It is ridiculously rude for the two of us to go wandering off by ourselves at a party!"

"I'm sorry!" he said. "No, it's just us. It's just gonna be us."

He just didn't get it. "I don't care if that's what you want too," I said. "At this point, it is rude for us not to include everyone."

Mom walked by. "What's wrong?" I explained. "Oh. Well, Sarah's still carsick [from the hot, cramped drive to visit Jesse], so I doubt she wants to go anyway. James will probably stay with her."

"Let's just us go," Gabe said again. "Please. Come on."

Eventually I relented. Boys can be so oblivious though, am I right?

We started the walk down to the lake, through the trails in the woods. Normally, it's a really pretty, fun short walk. But it was midnight and pitch black. Oh, and it had been raining for like the past two weeks. One step off the sidewalk and onto the trail and my new boots squished down into that Carolina red clay.

"Wow, I did not think about it being muddy," I said. "I would've worn my hiking boots."

Gabe glanced over his shoulder as we continued. "I mean...do you want to go back and change?"

"Yeah, kind of," I said. Gabe said okay, and we turned to head back. But then I was hit with a flood of sheepishness. Could I just cut the poor guy some slack? First I chewed him out about excluding people, now I was being all prissy about my shoes... "Actually, no, it's fine. Thanks though."

We continued on.

We stopped at the clearing with the picnic shelter, just before the dock slopes down by the lake. The big open gravel space was the perfect spot for shooting off some massive fireworks.

I stood several yards back. Gabe lit the first firework and ran towards me. The firework whistled into the sky and exploded loudly just as he reached my side. A huge smile lit up my face. So loud. So exciting. So pretty. We both laughed.

"Another one?" he said.

"Yes!"

We lit and ran.

Despite the perfection of everything, a shard of sadness suddenly pierced my heart, as had become routine in beautiful moments. You see, I was really looking forward to moving in with my best friend Cassidy after graduation. But at the same time...I wanted more from this man I loved. We used to talk about getting married. Our relationship used to feel like a slow, steady progression toward doing life together forever. But lately that felt farther away than ever. He'd been gone for Christmas, which put more of a strain on my soul than I'd expected. Being apart from him at school was beginning to feel less and less like something all couples did, and more and more like something that was really Wrong for us.

We ran from another whizzing firework, and an icy tear slid down my cheek. Stop it! I sharply rebuked myself. This is an amazing night. Stop being so miserable about everything and appreciate what he's doing.

I wiped away the stupid sadness and smiled. We lit a third firework and ran.

"Another?" he asked again.

I really smiled. "Yes."

He put his hand in his sweatshirt pocket to get the next one ready. In the dark, he struggled with it. "Can you get your flashlight? he asked.

"Sure." I pulled out my phone, turned the flashlight on, and shined it on his hands.

He was not holding a firework. He was holding something tiny and sparkly.

"Wh--"

He dropped to one knee and my whole world exploded into a dreamlike blur. My knees buckled and I knelt with him, then immediately remembered that I should be standing for this. I popped back up.

Somewhere through the haziness, I heard his voice:  "Stephanie Bailey, will you marry me?"

"Are you serious?" flew out of my mouth.

He laughed. "Yes."

"Yes!" I said. "Yes! Are you serious?"

Everything was blurry and blotchy and shaky. Somehow I ended up facing the other way, in his arms, my face in his shoulder, shaking and still asking if he was serious. I had had so many dreams about him proposing. So many times I had become engaged only to wake up.

Finally he became good-naturedly sarcastic. "No, this is just the cruelest joke ever played," he said.

I laughed, and at that moment it became real. Tearless sobs escaped my mouth.

"Let's see if this ring fits," he said, feigning impatience. I had all but forgotten that there would be a ring involved, and it was still in his hand.

He slid it on my finger, and I gasped. "It's beautiful..." Of course, I couldn't really see it in the darkness, but I saw enough to know it was perfect.

Eventually, we walked back to the house. I stopped several times on the way, completely unsure of how to contain the joy in my body, much less interact with other people. Gabe, always the calm rock, guided me back, bursting with happiness himself.

When we came through the front door, I realized that everyone had known. Mom, Daddy, Sarah, Cassidy, James. They all slowly approached with huge smiles, and a few tears. I broke into happy tears again and hugged everyone.

I have never felt joy that complete in my whole life. Everything about the night was absolutely perfect. Gabe did so, so well. I could not be happier to plan and live a life with him. What an incredible partner he will be! I hope I can make him feel just as lucky and loved as he makes me feel :)

~Stephanie

Because of Pablo Neruda

"Oh no. Is this happening?! Awww, this is happening. Are you serious?!" - Me when I get Inspired at midnight when I'm actually trying to go to bed. I don't even know what this is supposed to be about yet, but I suspect it will involve significant and uncharacteristic sappiness.

Today Gabe needed to study for his most qualitatively elusive exam, so I offered to leave him alone and occasionally text him inspirational/interesting/sappy quotes. He took me up on the offer. In the mix was (one of, if not) my favorite "love" quote of all time:

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close."

~ Pablo Neruda

It's sappy; it's dramatic. And yet, it is what it feels like to love Gabe.

Love for Gabe didn't sprout up one day and then grow; I just noticed one day that it existed, like looking into the sky after dusk and wondering when exactly all the stars appeared.

Loving Gabe has been the clearest, most natural and uncomplicated thing I have ever done. I love him with my strange and fractured soul, but somehow still Simply. He has never made it difficult or dangerous to love him. He has never Lied to me; he has never Hurt me; he has never Manipulated me. The commitment of his love and the depth of his transparency allow me to love him simply.

It is not a Problem to love him. My love never causes me to compromise my faith, marginalize my family, or sacrifice my freedom. Loving him never gets in the way, but rather opens new ways for me to succeed. I like who I am with Gabe. I suffer no identity crises, but feel radically confirmed and affirmed in myself through him.

I don't have to guard my heart from him:  he guards my heart from all its adversaries--even from myself. And I let him.

For the first time in my life, Pride is no barrier. My arrogance (my aggressive self-sufficiency, my marriage to mockery) has no place in our relationship. It was never banished; it never dramatically lost a battle; it just...never came into play, never really fit into our dynamic, and I never missed it. Pride--the stilted, destructive, derisive kind--feels obsolete between us.

I think this goes back to the unguarded heart thing. Pride, no matter what it tries to tell you, is a defensive strategy. It isn't really something you can use to move forward, rather it's something you throw up to avoid losing ground. Gabe has never pushed me in order to conquer me. He pushes me as I push him:  as an exercise in strength, awareness, resolution...sport :)

The only part of Neruda's quote that does not apply is the unawareness of other ways to love. I think I do know other ways to love. I have loved in a exhaustingly complicated, relentlessly problematic, bitterly prideful way--and that is no competition for this.

Gabe's and my love isn't always perfect or exciting, but in a way, it actually is. It's always perfect in that it always feels Right, and it's always exciting in that every day is different. The tiny differences in every day--the weather, the traffic, our breakfasts, our dreams--branch into different thoughts, feelings, revelations, passions, questions, desires, and goals. Every day isn't "driving to Boston" or "meeting Gaston" or "seeing KoRn," but every day is Something, and it's never quite the same.

I think I could go my whole life living with the unconventional perfection, the mundane excitements. I could go my whole life with the refreshing simplicity and radical wholesomeness and joyful dignity. I could go my whole life falling asleep with the close of his eyes.

~Stephanie

What College My Professors Have Taught Me

Dr. Thornton taught me that I CAN do it. Whatever it is, no matter how LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE it seems, if I just put my head down and conquer one step at a time, I WILL get to the end. I cannot thank him enough for such a valuable life skill.

Mrs. Parker inspired me in one of my darkest times. Fall of my freshman year, when I was angry and jaded and lonely and depressed, she brought the light of Words back to me. Her untarnished passion for stories ignited joy from the center of my heart. She Loved words with a capital L and her Love could not help but overflow to all her students. I am convinced that every single student left her class with a better appreciation of language. I will never forget how much she meant to me and encouraged me.

Dr. Stanke taught me the powerful beauty of genuinely engaging with people and committing them to memory.

Mr. Salsbury taught me how to understand what a professor wants from me. He taught me the value of going to your professors' offices and letting them help you. He taught me that sometimes, people just want you to read their minds and you have to figure out how to do that. I believe this to be another valuable skill as I seek post-graduation employment XD

Dr. Peterman taught me the value of mentor relationships. She taught me that I am allowed to speak like an adult and be treated like an adult. She taught me the benefit of building goodwill and actually trying your best. She's taught me that Loving and playing with words does not have to be an artsy-fartsy, wishy washy, gray area, but can be an exciting, clever, and concrete world that requires agile intellect and logical thinking skills. She helped me wed my love of beauty with my love of reason.

Dr. McNair reminded me how much fun it is to surprise people with kind-spirited irony.

Dr. Dunnum taught me to See words deeper, to look not only below the word's surface, but behind and beside and above it. He taught me to ask deeper, bigger questions. He taught me to ask How? and then prove it. He taught me to ask Why? and then try to find the answer. And he taught me that not finding the answer does not constitute a failure.

Dr. Morefield taught me how to love books better. He taught me to savor the language, the story, and the people (good characters are not just "characters," but real people to be understood). Reading Emma in his class was probably the most fun I've ever had reading for school.

Dr. Truffin taught me that having wild style does not preclude being hired as a professional. She taught me how to be professional without compromising or apologizing for who you are. She taught me how to facilitate discussion, be an active listener, appreciate others' work, and participate in great arguments.

Dr. Schroeder taught me that it is possible to get an A in a class where it is allegedly impossible to get an A. He taught me the most Greek I've ever learned in one place, which basically makes him my hero. He taught me to wrestle with FREAKING HUGE ideas and come out sane. He taught me to love Aristotle even more. I only had one class with him (Ancient Political Thought), but it is one of my favorite classes of all time. I can't even describe how cool it was.

Dr. Poe taught me that not all psychologists are the same, and that if I ever go to one, I want him/her to be like her.

I honestly believe that I could not have gotten a better education anywhere else.

~Stephanie

No Regrets

"O let not Time deceive you / You cannot conquer Time."

As I sit here, about to do laundry and get some stuff together for school, I feel like writing. I don't have any complete thoughts to share, just a lot of fragments. At least, I think they are fragments. You know how I get when I write: one thought will sometimes keep unfolding before my fingers until it's a real post. Right?

In three days, I will move into college for the last time. I know everyone always says this, but seriously, how was it three whole years ago that I moved in as a freshman? I was so...unhappy. I wasn't excited to be going to Campbell at all. I was mad at the perceived failure of not going to Wake Forest. I was jaded by my weird romantic relationship. I was lost in my spiritual life. It was awful. You could not pay me enough money to go back to freshman year.

{Of course, my roommate, Bekah, was actually awesome. We went to bed at the same time, watched the same TV shows, liked the room at the same temperature, listened to the same music, needed the same motivation to go to the gym. She was gorgeous and funny and did not care for drama. I'm convinced it was the most successful random roommate pairing of all time. But other than her, life as a freshman mostly sucked.}

But now? Now I am Happy.

My suite mates are the college girl friends everyone promised I would find. They're the people who will go with me to Walmart at 2 o'clock in the morning because I need frozen pizza. They're the people who will just sit down in the hallway with me and hang out there because I'm too stressed and depressed to make it to the living room. They're the people who I can take stupid BuzzFeed quizzes with for hours. They're the people whose opinions matter to me, whether about my earrings or dinner decision or my boyfriend.

I hope I will be friends with them for the rest of my life; but if I'm not, if we drift apart and fall out of contact, I will still never forget them. I will look back on "college" and hear us laughing and feel us walking across campus and remember us dancing and smile at our late night talks.

Gosh, I'm going to miss them. I'm going to miss congregating in one our rooms to pick out clothes for the next day. I'm going to miss "family dinners" where Harley makes chicken or spaghetti and the rest of us throw together some sides. I'm going to miss movie nights where we talk over most of the dialogue. I'm going to miss messing with each other and memorizing all the weird quirks and habits to make living together as easy as possible.

I'm not sure what the point of this post is. Reminiscing, I guess. But it could also serve as a reminder to y'all and to my future self that things get better. Freshman year sucked. But I didn't run away; I stuck it out, and my life is beautiful now.

If I had left Campbell, every single thing about my life would be different. I wouldn't have my suite mates, I probably wouldn't be dating Gem, and I wouldn't have had such amazing professors and therefore an amazing education. I wouldn't have had the same internships or tutoring experience or copy editing position at the paper.

Everything is worth it. My one real regret in life, the one thing I've said I would change (not getting into Wake Forest) has ceased to be a regret. It is hard to say that given a do-over I wouldn't apply to Wake Forest. But it is a no-brainer to say that I am overjoyed to have gone to Campbell.

Senior year, I'm {getting} ready for you.


~Stephanie

Some Kind of Validation

"I think I've figured something out," I said to him. The market was hot and loud and full of beautiful things. Every booth demanded attention, especially the jewelry one at which we'd found ourselves.

"What?" he said absently, running his fingers over a bright gem.

"I think it has to do with me being an Oldest and you being an Almost the Youngest," I continued, scanning his profile for attentiveness. "but I have to show people things in order to have fun. Like, if I see a cool piece of jewelry like this," I pointed to a Celtic cross. "I want to show it to you. I want you to be excited about it and think that it's beautiful. If you're not around to see it or you don't reciprocate my enthusiasm, then it loses its beauty to me."

He made a thoughtful sound and kept looking at the merchandise. I continued:

"I guess it's because when I was little, I always had a younger sibling who I could 'perform' for, who wanted to see what I was doing and like what I liked. But you were the youngest, so probably no one would pay as much attention to you. You had to figure out how to have fun completely by yourself."

No response.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yes!" He made eye contact. "I'm processing. I think it has to do with being Extroverted versus Introverted, too."

"Yeah, exactly! My experience of fun is dependent on other people. I can't enjoy myself in a vacuum. If I don't have someone to share things with, I honestly might as well not go at all. It's kind of frustrating, because you have fun so independently." I swallowed hard as I lost his eyes again. "You can pick up something pretty or fascinating and enjoy it 100% by yourself. You don't have to tell anyone about it or show it to anyone. But I can't do that. Nothing is fun or worth it to me unless I get some kind of validation."

I didn't know if the conversation would change anything. I didn't know if I was wasting my breath. My revelation was just another example of something that was useless without affirmation.

Maybe since I'd noticed the weakness of my codependent enjoyment, I could do something about it. Maybe I could learn to enjoy things by myself, without having to show another person.

But I couldn't imagine that. I wilted inside as he wandered away, to another booth where he would find cool things and not show them to me. Where I would seek out cool things and try to show him, but he'd have moved on.

~Stephanie

The Real Adventure

I just started dating someone, and the other day, he confessed to me that he's a "sappy romantic."

I have never wanted a sappy romantic. I am a self-professed hopeless unromantic, and emotion of any kind makes me uncomfortable. But ever since he said that, I've been creeping closer and closer to an eye-opening personal revelation:

I always assumed that since I'm not mushy, I should look for someone equally unmushy. But maybe that's a cop-out, you know? In my quest for challenge, I've actually been tackling things that are completely within my comfort zone.

See, usually stretching oneself involves being brazen and dauntless. But for me, maybe it's more of a challenge to be, well, "romantic." Maybe THAT will be the audacious adventure I look for in a relationship.

This guys makes me see a lot of things differently. I love it.

~Stephanie