Courtship and Engagement | Part 1

by Elouise

What was it about this man who seemed to have eyes only for me but couldn’t get the words out of his mouth? Shy guy. Quiet, focused, cautious. All were and are true, along with intelligent, bright, kind and funny.

By the second semester of my freshman year, I’d already dated a number of other men. Three seemed at least a little interested in me. The first was the most interesting. It began early in my freshman year.

I was 16. He was nearly 10 years older than I. A graduate student. Poet, writer, lively mind and citizen of another nation. We traded photos. He wrote a lovely poem for my 17th birthday.

Then one day he said he wanted me to visit his home country sometime and meet his parents. His home was thousands of miles away. I didn’t know what to say. Was this a serious plan? An invitation? He wasn’t joking.

I got cold feet. I couldn’t tell him the truth: I would love to visit your home country someday and even meet your parents, but I’m not ready to have a serious relationship with you. I just got here!

After much agony,  I wrote The Letter. It meandered all over the place before virtually blaming God for my bad news. ‘After much prayer, God has laid it on my heart to send your photo back, and not continue this relationship. Please return my photo.’ I kept the poem.

I didn’t have the guts to give the letter to him in person. I put it in campus mail. A few days later I received my photo via a third-party, without a note. The photo was in a brown paper bag. I still cringe when I think about this.

One day I’d just finished accompanying a parts practice session with men in the choir. David (D) led the rehearsal time; I was at the piano. Our choir director, Mr. Supplee smiled and suggested D and I might get to know each other. He thought we made a great “duo.” D seemed to like Mr. Supplee’s idea; so did I.

I waited for D to ask me for a date. Or at least a cafeteria supper ‘date’ (socializing). All I got were lovely shy smiles every time he saw me.

One day D stopped me on the sidewalk. My heart skipped a beat. He smiled, and asked whether I’d be interested in accompanying him when he played his trombone in the upcoming talent show. He wasn’t sure which pieces he would play, so maybe we could meet in one of the practice rooms and go through the possibilities.

We met several times to select and rehearse his numbers. These weren’t considered official dates. We met in the large practice room, not in the women’s lobby. The room had a baby grand piano, good acoustics and lots of windows. Nothing about this looked or felt like a date. Except maybe D’s smiles.

D played the trombone beautifully. I found out he’d been in the circus band in his high school, and that he’d played in a dance band every weekend when he was in high school. My heart beat a bit faster. A man of the world! Not brought up the way I was. D’s desirability factor shot way up.

The talent show came and went. Yet nothing happened until that choir tour and our first ‘date’ at the Dallas Public Library. I thought D would never ask. That was back when only the most daring of disobedient women asked men for dates. I was not a daring woman.

Had I been more perceptive, I might have noticed the beginning of a pattern. But I did not. I only had eyes for D’s eyes smiling at me. Within a short three months I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt this was the man I would marry. I fully expected he would see that, too. By now I was a sophomore, D was a junior.

Surely any day now…

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 11 March 2015