I deleted Matt’s call from the caller ID, and determined that I would make no mention of it to Sarah or anyone else. The secret was both a burden and a pleasure; it was dangerous and thrilling all at the same time. Our two apartments continued to do some things together, initiated by our unknowing roommates. I felt badly for Matt in those circumstances because he now recognized that he had previously unintentionally encouraged Sarah, and he struggled to politely distance himself so that he would not continue to misrepresent himself to her. Sometimes he would arrive a couple hours after his roommates did and stay only briefly. We would exchange glances and quick understanding and try to seem as casual and normal as we possibly could. Maria was the only one who knew, so she was helpful when conversations or attentions needed to be redirected.

One Sunday night, after Ward Prayer, we invited Matt and his roommate to ride around with us and listen to some of our fun, latin music. I sat in the back next to Matt and we drove around and laughed and all talked together until midnight. Now that I watched him through new eyes, I knew that I did like him, but I was still resolved to stand by my decision. At one point in that conversation, Matt mentioned the difficulty he was having in making a decision about a job change. He had prayed about it, but didn’t feel he had a clear answer. I told him I loved a quote by Brigham Young that talked about how the Lord is bound to bless us when we make a choice and act in faith even after our prayers seem to go unanswered. He liked the quote and I mentioned I could give him a copy of it. At the end of the night, we exchanged email addresses.

The next day I emailed him from my office on campus and sent him a copy of the quote. That began a covert exchange of emails that went back and forth. He wrote that he was fascinated with me. Because of the way situation began, we were kind of forced to be very honest with each other from the start, and I found myself being much more bold than I normally would be. I started to feel really attracted to him, and wished that we could do things together. I had no Internet at our apartment, so I could hardly wait for the chance to go up on campus and check my email. When there was a note from Matt, I was so excited that I was almost dizzy. He would ask over and over again, “Can I take you out yet?,” and I would answer over and over again, “Not yet.”

Sarah, I think, had noticed a difference in his behavior and began to question his interest. She talked about it a lot, the way any of us who have been part of a confusing relationship would do. It was very hard to listen to, not in a selfish way, but because I knew more about his feelings than she did. Finally one day, when she mentioned something about him maybe just wanting to be her “buddy” or something, I seized the moment to influence her perspective. I sincerely wanted to protect her, and I spoke as honestly and non-specifically as I could. “I think he might be interested in someone else.” “Really? Why?” “Well, when we talked last week, he mentioned that he liked someone and that he had asked her out for that Saturday.” It was true. He did like someone. And he did ask her out. I didn’t feel like it was necessary to mention it was me. She was disappointed and felt and expressed discouragement over the next few days. It was a hard time for me, too, because I felt indirectly responsible for her hurt feelings, but I was earnestly praying the whole time to handle things the right way. My entire decision had been based upon trying to preserve her friendship and protect her feelings. I did the best I could to do the right thing.

And the days and weeks went past.

One Saturday, Matt called and I answered the phone. This was four weeks after his initial phone call. He asked what I was doing, and I told him I was studying for one of my exams and working on grading and my thesis. He wanted me to come to his house. I said no, that I needed to study. “Come study here.” I paused. “I can’t.” He told me that if I had to study, it didn’t matter where I did it. I said, “If I go, I am really going to study. That’s what I’ll do.” He agreed. I said goodbye to roommates and told them I was headed out to work on my thesis and grading. I felt a little weak in the knees– part nervous, part excited, part guilty, and part adventurous.

I sat in his living room and did my studies. Matt sat in his bedroom and worked on his own assignments. This went on for three or four hours. When I felt burnt out, I walked to his bedroom door to tell him I thought I was done. We started to talk. We asked each other questions. We discussed the strange sequence of events that seemed to have brought us together. We shared some scriptures and thoughts together and it was a real spiritual experience. I felt comfortable and at peace. He told me about his life story and conversion. It was amazing. We moved back out to the living room and sat on the couch. He turned on ESPN and I put my head on his shoulder. He smelled good, and he held my hand, and it just felt so comfortable and happy. I drifted off to sleep until I heard his roommate come home, and I got up to leave. Ten hours had passed since I arrived at noon.  He gave me a hug goodbye when I left and I knew that something big was happening.

The next day I was scheduled to meet my brothers at a fireside devotional at the Marriott Center. I told him where we would be if he wanted to join us. He held my hand there, and my brothers gave him the evil eye. When it was over he walked me to my car and we had a discussion about how it was important to trust in the Lord and not fear. He knew I had plans to leave in April (less than three months away) and then possibly pursue a Ph.D. in the Fall. He said he was scared about that. We made plans to do several things together. I honestly felt the Spirit every time we were together and, at this point, I just knew that I was supposed to date him.  He kissed me before I left.

I had a lot of things I needed to decide and figure out.  I knew what I needed to do, but the details were fuzzy.  When I got home that night, I opened the door and saw Sarah sitting on the couch.  She was tapping a pencil up and down on a notebook that was sitting on her lap.  She looked up at me through narrowed eyes and said, “How stupid do you think I am?”

Coming next…. Chapter 5:  The Confrontation

(For those of you just joining the Love Story, I started it on Friday in honor of our tenth wedding anniversary. This is chapter three; If you want to begin at the real beginning, click here.)

Matt seemed nice to Sarah, and I was happy for her that her date went well.  She was excited.  The whole night was good, and we were proud of our kick-off activity.  The baton was passed, and another apartment began planning the next Ward Date.  Two of Matt’s roommates had coincidentally been the dates of my other two roommates, so our two apartments started to hang out a little bit.  At one point we went to go see a movie at the theater and I felt like the total “third-wheel”  (seventh, actually) since I wasn’t a part of these match-ups, so I slipped away early under the guise of visiting a sick friend (which I really did do, by the way, because I’m not a good liar.  She was sick, but she didn’t need nor ask for my help.  I went anyway, just to follow through with my excuse for leaving).

Sarah was very happy about her developing friendship with Matt, and I encouraged her and was sincerely excited for her.  He asked her to go with him to the next ward date.  (By the way, this has since been denounced as a poor social choice that was meant to simply “return the favor.”)  In all of our minds as a team of roommates/self-appointed social experts/dating divas, these were all good signs and we rallied around Sarah and her new and seemingly positive potential relationship.  Our apartments continued to do several things together and we all became friends.  I was still avoiding the two previously-mentioned suitors, and a third one had now entered into the mix.  I went out with him one time.  It was fine.  I wasn’t that interested.  He kept asking me out.  I tried to be polite, and as obviously disinterested as I could be without being rude or making up lies.  I was annoyed by the recurring pathetic themes in my social life.  Things had been rocky enough with KK in our recent interactions that I was beginning to feel “healed” from the breakup– still confused by it, but not hurting so much anymore.  But still, judging from the three yahoos I was currently juggling, my future didn’t feel super hopeful.

I was talking to my dad on the phone one night, and Matt beeped in.  I told him I was on the other line, so could I just have Sarah call him back?  He said, “Uh, yeah, but YOU call me back.”  Oh, okay.  I didn’t think anything of it.  Maybe he wanted to ask me something about her or make secret plans for her or something.  He gave me his work number, and I finished the conversation with my dad.  I called Matt back, and we made small talk for a few minutes.  It was a fun, friendly conversation, but I kept wondering when he was going to get around to telling me why he had called.  Then he asked me out.  On a date!

I literally felt a little sick to my stomach.  Me?! I think there may have been a lot of “Um…,”  “Well,”  and other unfinished syllables, mixed with awkward pauses.  My mind was racing.

“Um, can I call you back?”  I hung up.  I needed to think.

I felt this really unexpected intense confusion. I had never even considered going out with him because I’d only seen him as a possibility for Sarah… one of my best friends of many, many years… remember?  But now that he’d mentioned it, I thought you know, he is a cool guy, and he would be fun to go out with, but what?!! This was crazy.  I was surprised that I kind of wanted to.  I felt horrible for Sarah.  I couldn’t go.  Could I?

Sarah was downstairs in the kitchen.  I called my other roommate, Maria, on her cell phone.  She was 15 feet down the hall in her bedroom.  I whispered, “Maria!  Matt just called.  He asked me out.”

“Huh?!”  (You can’t fault her for the confusion.)  I explained what happened, and we both squealed and gasped and talked as dramatically as whispering would allow.  After discussing the whole thing back and forth and probably chewing all the possible life out of the topic, she said, “Can you imagine Sarah’s face if the doorbell rang and it was Matt coming to pick you up?”  That sealed it.

I took a deep breath, called him back and said, “Under different circumstances, I would love to go out with you, and I think that we would have a really good time together, and who knows what would happen (Um, what were these words coming out of my mouth?!!), but I just can’t.”  He correctly guessed the reason and faulted himself for not foreseeing that more clearly, and was understanding about my decision.  Perhaps it was the impossibility of it all that created a weird, exciting tension.  The conversation ended by both of us saying, “Maybe later.”

Coming next…. Chapter 4:  The Secret

After I told my mom all the details about the breakup, there was a long pause.  Then she said with some emotion in her voice,  “I just feel really strongly that there’s a reason you were supposed to date KK.  It needed to happen.  And I think there’s something else for you— right around the corner.  I just do.  And when it happens, there will be no confusion.”  The tears rolled down my cheeks as I listened, partly because all the feelings were raw, and partly because I felt what she was saying.  Moms give lots of advice and always say things like, “everything will work out for the best” because they’re supposed to, and it’s easy to blow off that kind of comforting because it’s so cliché.  But something about this one simple reassurance rang true with me, in a spiritual way.  It still hurt, but somehow I knew she was right.

The next few months were difficult for me.  KK and I had a partnership in the Big Brother/Big Sister Program, and we continued having weekly visits with “our kids.”  We were fairly comfortable with each other, yet it was awkward.  Mostly for me.  I still didn’t get what happened.  We obviously still got along, and I could tell we were both still attracted to each other.  There was a tiny bit of on-again, off-again, but usually with a restated “Oops.  We’re supposed to not be together.”  It just didn’t make sense.

In the meantime, I had several “opportunities” to go on dates with guys from my ward (congregation) at church.  It was a singles-only congregation and there were several hundred of us in attendance, so it was, in theory, easy to meet and date new people.  But as I would go out with these guys, they all paled in comparison to KK, which was depressing.  I thought maybe my one good chance had come and gone.  Anyway, there were a couple of them who were in hot pursuit, so to speak, but our interest levels were not mutual.  I was at the avoiding-phone-calls and ducking-out-of-church-early stage in our “relationships.”  It was uncomfortable.

The bishop of our ward wanted all his single members to date more and form relationships instead of just hanging out so much.  (His name was Bishop Love.  I’m not kidding.)  Each Sunday night, we had “Ward Prayer” where we would all gather back at the chapel for a devotional, several announcements, and mostly socializing.  The bishop asked two of my roommates to be in charge of Ward Prayer, and asked them to use it as a venue to encourage more dating.  I overheard his discussion with them, and as soon as he left our apartment, I said “Why don’t you guys schedule something called a ‘Ward Date’ where different apartments get assigned every couple weeks to plan some kind of party or activity or event?  Everyone in the ward is invited, but you have to bring a date.  Then people will have to ask each other out.”  We talked through all the details, felt like it might be a fun idea, and decided that, naturally, our apartment would have to host the first official Ward Date.  And this rotation would all be announced and coordinated at Ward Prayer.

I asked some random guy that I had no interest in whatsoever to be my date.  I had a gut feeling that as soon as the announcement was made, those two boys I was avoiding would run over and invite me, and I wanted to have legitimate plans already in place.  My roommates dragged their feet a little bit about getting dates and I nagged them about it.  (We were the hostesses after all.)  My roommate Sarah had mentioned to us several times one guy she had met at church that she thought was really cute and nice.

Sarah and I had known each other since we were twelve years old; in other words, for more than half of our lives.  We were in our sixth year together as college roommates.  We had endured many social ups and downs.  Sarah was a quiet, gentle type.  I was more loud and careless.  We were a good balance for each other.  Anyway, it wasn’t often that she even mentioned her love interests, and she’d brought this guy up a few times, so I told her she should invite him.  I’d never met him because I taught Gospel Doctrine Sunday School class at church, and when I taught I would get “in the zone,” and not pay much attention to who everyone was in the room.  So anyway, I’d never seen or met the guy, but we all encouraged her to invite him to the ward date.  She finally did, and he accepted.  My two other roommates eventually got their act together and found a date, so we were all set for the big night.  Homemade pizza and party games at our place.

The night came and we were excited as more and more couples showed up.  It looked like it would be a success.  Sarah’s date showed up and I met him.  His name was Matt.

Coming next… Chapter 3:  The Surprise

(Today is our tenth anniversary.  In celebration of our decade of destiny, I’ve decided to write how the love story began.  Happy Anniversary, Matt.  I love you.  To my readers, enjoy the ride.)

It seems strange to start with a breakup, but that is how our love story began.  I was 26 years old, which meant that, by BYU standards, my statute of limitations on marriage was quickly running out.  All my high school friends were married.  Some had even married, divorced, remarried and had children.  I mourned it occasionally, but for the most part, I was okay with it.  I was working on my masters degree, had traveled the world to some extent, had a fantastic group of friends, and was beginning the search for Ph. D. programs.  I considered myself bright, independent and full of future.  I wasn’t trying to avoid marriage or run away from relationships, but I didn’t picture myself as the married type— or the mothering type. (I’d never once planned out the colors or themes for my future wedding, and babysitting as a teenager taught me that wasn’t my cup of tea either.)  So, though I dated quite a bit, I wasn’t devastated by the fact that I was 26 years old and had never had a boyfriend.

Until now.  And it was big news.

On two separate occasions I was introduced to KK by different friends who thought we would “make a great couple.”  The first time, we realized we already knew each other from a summer literature course.  The third time we were introduced, I think we just surrendered ourselves to the fact that we’d better get to know each other, so we did.  The conversation led to an immediate connection, and we began spending more and more time together.  Over the next six months we became more and more involved in each other’s lives.  Though I had gone out on dates with probably a hundred different boys since my debut as a wide-eyed freshman, this was groundbreaking territory for me.  And I was surprised how much I enjoyed myself.

We seemed to be a perfect match.  We didn’t really call each other boyfriend and girlfriend (me, because I had no idea what the rules were for such titles, and him, because –looking back– he had a fear of commitment.)  But to everyone who knew us, KK and I were an item, a legitimate dating couple.  It was exciting.  Everyone went on and on about how great we were together.  My girlfriends would pull me aside and say, “Where did you find this guy?”  And I was really happy.

Then one night, after he invited me over to his house to watch Gone With the Wind (a class assignment— the movie part, not inviting me), he walked me back out to my car, and he broke up with me.  Just like that.  His speech went something like this:

“Like most guys, I have a list of everything I’m looking for in the girl I want to marry, and you have all of those things and more.  (He listed them and I don’t remember much except that he emphasized that the physical attraction was definitely there.)  BUT,  (that word rang loud) I don’t know how to explain it, I just feel like something’s missing.  I’m really sorry I can’t explain it any better that that.  I know it sounds dumb, but something’s just not there.”

I was stunned.  We hugged and left amicably, and I drove home in a whirlwind of confusing thoughts.  “Something’s missing?!  Thanks, I’ll work on that.”  I don’t know if I was numb, but I just stayed calm, and I drove back to my apartment.  I woke up one of my roommates, and said, “KK just broke up with me.”  “WHAT??”  She sat straight up in bed.  “What?  Are you kidding me?  No way.  What happened??”  I explained the whole odd story in a very matter-of-fact way.  She had a thousand questions.  I had no answers.  She kept saying things like “I’m so sorry.” and “I can’t believe it” and “Are you okay?.”  I said I was fine, and I shrugged and joked, “I guess it was just a major accomplishment to get to the point in a relationship where someone actually can break up with me.”

I traipsed into my bedroom, climbed into bed, and went to sleep.  The next day I called my mother.  That’s when the tears came.

Coming tommorrow…. Chapter 2:  The Transition