When you have a steady group of friends, funny little anecdotes are passed around like party favors. I often find myself telling the stories of my life as humorous tidbits. Some of them are unimportant moments with a good punch line. Then there are others that hit home because the moment was profound. I tell the story of how I met my husband with a comedic air but the reason I tell it is because it changed my life. The story began at an Event.
The campground was a sea of pup tents. Long white pavilions and tall canvas sun shades broke the tents into smaller neighborhoods. Each "encampment" was a singular community. A circle of worn chairs sat as the heart of these communities. In those chairs sat ancient Romans, Venetian courtesans, medieval knights, and other historical persona's. They clustered around smoky fires that smoldered in freshly lit fire pits. It wasn't dark yet but the fires were lit in preparation. When darkness came so did the cold and numb fingers made fumbling with light bringing implements that much harder.
I walked onto the campground and felt the mundane world slip away. I have to admit I was looking for an escape. Away from the campground I was sleeping on my cousins couch and without gainful employment. Months before I returned from an extended hiatus outside of California. In the cold recesses of Michigan I found a deeper sense of myself. Now I was trying to decide what I wanted to do with that person. Even in the familiar venue of an Event I played the part of a lost soul. My garb consisted of a threadbare bodice, a borrowed skirt, and a low cut chemise. I was the image of a cheap tavern wench. At that moment I didn't consider myself particularly appealing and I couldn't image that the night would lead to romance.
Travis, my cousin's husband, introduced me to the encampment. The collection of names blended together into a vague impression that I was amidst strangers. I consoled myself with the thought that I was home. An apartment and a job couldn't compete. My heart lives in the SCA.
Trying to explain the SCA is like explaining to an atheist why Christians go to church. Eventually you might explain the concept, but the deeper meaning is lost. I've never been able to explain more than it's surface. The Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA) is made up of people that covet the times o Yore. They gather throughout the year at camping "events", wear period clothing, and emulate the life of our ancestors. I want to say that it's all for the learning but mostly it's an excuse to gather with like minded people and party. A party of Medieval proportions.
The encampment was full of strangers but they were also my people. As the afternoon progressed they became my friends. One stood out amidst the group. His name was Sasha. He and Travis bantered about with a sharp wit. Sasha said something funny and Travis replied, "That's because you're a Mormon."
A feeling of disappointment swept over me. Until that moment the prospect of getting to know Sasha was a bright spot in my day. He was handsome, amusing, and charismatic; all the things I looked for in a man. Normally, I'm not bigoted against religious preference, but this was a particular exception. The first man I dated and lost my virginity to was Mormon. There were many differences between us and they often caused conflict. The biggest became apparent the night I lost my virginity. Upon completion of the act he turned to me and said, "So, now we're going to get married, right?"
I was eighteen. He was the first man I slept with and I had no intention of marrying him. It was hard because I'm an honest person. I couldn't lie to him. I told him that very moment. Soon after the relationship ended. The prospect of getting into another doomed relationship was depressing.
"Yeah, dude, that's why I got kicked out of the bishops office." Sasha threw back. I didn't understand his sarcastic reply but I would later.
Darkness covered the camp and gave the illusion of another world. At night, little things like wire fences and parked cars blended into the background. I let myself be tricked by the night. Instead of thinking about his obvious fault, I got to know Sasha.
In my life I've found that social deception is always simmering beneath the surface. It seems that people lie out of complacency. They are so used to the deceit that they don't attempt to be honest. In response, I hide myself. I refuse to play the game. That night I was struggling, as I had been struggling since my return to California. I knew that life had more to offer me. I wanted love and intimacy and forever but had little understanding of how to achieve those things.
I'm not sure when I learned that Sasha wasn't Mormon. He must have made another joke about being excommunicated. All I know is when the group left our encampment I was completely enthralled. Everything I saw and thought was Sasha. The campground was packed with friends and friends of friends. We wandered across the grounds and stopped to socialize along the way. Sasha and I hung toward the back. We talked quietly. It was the engaging conversation of prospective lovers. The words flowed between us freely. I felt warm and excited, despite the insistent cold.
Somewhere along the way the group abandoned us. I sat down in the grass. My skirt folded around my legs to keep my sandal clad toes from freezing. With the borrowed grace of an inebriated man, Sasha dropped to the ground. His head rested in my lap. I smiled into the night. The first flush of love was about me.
"Wow." He said from his position on my lap.
"What?"
"You have breasts." He stated plainly.
"Yes, I do." I replied with a chuckle.
"They're big."
"Um-hum."
"Do you want to have sex?"
Without pause I answered, "Sure."
"But not now." He added. "Later when I'm not drunk."
"Okay." I replied as I smoothed the sweat off his bald head. "But if you change your mind, it's okay."
"Whatever." He said back, dismissing my doubt.
It was one moment. One silly little passing moment. Some might call it inappropriate. They could say the story boils down to a drunkard and a girl with loose morals. Sure, that's the Reader's Digest version, but in that edition the subtle details are edited out. Sometimes a moment can set the tone for the rest of your life. This moment was one of those. All the things I wanted lay ahead of me. Sasha didn't just give me honesty, he expected things of me. He drew me out of my shell. He taught me about intimacy and true love. And I never doubt that he will give me forever.
The striking honesty of those first moments have been repeated throughout our life together. It's easy to trust someone when you know they'll you everything. Some people might think it's boring but I never get bored. Our marriage may not be full of fiery passion or hidden mysteries, but it will last past the first bloom of love and stay into the comfort of old age. In so many ways that moment changed my life. It was the beginning of something I will forever be thankful for.
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