I was telling a friend this story, and a thought flashed through my brain: MY GOD, HOW HAVE I NOT INCLUDED THIS IN THE ARCHIVES??? And the answer is, I don’t know.
Let’s revisit a blip in my life that made absolute total and perfect sense at the time but, looking back, well…all I can say is that my husband is a true hero.
The backstory? It’s a long one but I’ll do my best to condense it.
Back in the 1900’s, I dated a fairly nice fellow for a few years whom I met while in college at good old West Chester University. Let’s call him Farley, shall we? Farley was my first serious boyfriend and, by “serious,” I mean here was my only boyfriend ever (at the time). I suppose, because of that, I was sure our relationship would last forever and ever and ever. I suppose, as I was also Farley’s first in all the things, he thought the same thing. We even went ring shopping, at one point, solidifying my attitude that finding the love of one’s life really wasn’t that hard.
For Farley, as it turned out, the ring shopping was more like a giant billboard that read “Hey, Farley, you should DEFINITELY explore other options!!” Ironically, that was the same thing his parents had been telling him for years. Farley finally got the memo, opting for an open relationship. That might have worked, had I known about it. When Farley did clue me in, it was while we were standing in line at the Genuardi’s deli, and it went something like this:
Me: Hi, I’d like a turkey sandwich on toasted white bread with…
Farley: Just so you know, I have a date tonight.
Me: Wait, what? With bacon, lettuce, and…
Farley: I thought we could see other people, right?
Me: WHAT? Mayonnaise, with mayonnaise. WHAT?? What are you TALKING about?
Farley: Yeah, I thought we had an open relationship.
You may think the looming break-up was the saddest part of this story, but the real tragedy was the loss of those amazing Genuardi’s sandwiches, as I could never face that deli counter again without a bit of rekindled trauma.
As joyous as my first real relationship was, so was the devastation in my first real breakup. I was gutted. The breakup also kicked off some major changes in my life that peaked with a move to North Carolina, where I could recover, first, under my mom’s wing and, later, while discovering a whole new me in Raleigh. I met new friends who helped me unearth lost confidence and self-worth, and who encouraged me to stop obsessing over what I had done to cause the breakup.
I had done nothing wrong. Sometimes, people just grow apart. Still, while finding myself again, I whispered a promise to never, ever, ever date again.
This was tricky as several of my new friends were also delightful men who might have dated me if I wasn’t so quick with a stink eye and ability to flee.
While working in radio, I met Jen, who had the PERFECT solution for me, though I’m not sure she knew it. Jen lived with a lesbian (Hi, Auddie!), and I started frequenting their home on the weekends. Nights were most often spent around the fire pit, sharing drinks and stories and solving the issues of the world. This group was so welcoming and kind and uplifting, and I immediately felt like the tribe I needed.
The group was also made up almost entirely of lesbians. Jen, her boyfriend, and I were the token straight people. It took no time at all for me to become this group of longtime friends’ unofficial sidekick. Why? It was a really, really safe group for me to hide in. There was no chance of discovering love or landing on another road that would leave me heartbroken. There was no pressure to put my best foot forward or be the prettiest or even put on mascara. “She’s straight” became part of my name when introductions were made. It made me feel good that I came with a disclaimer, as if, without it, someone would surely try to sweep me off my feet.
I’m not sure when I started calling this tribe the Lircle but it stuck. The Lircle was my lesbian circle and it was perfect. These were my people.
In 2012, when I strolled into the Angus Barn on a random evening and right into Rich’s orbit, it truly was the first time I felt the fluttering of butterflies in over a decade. My lips instantly became stuck in a smile. I was giggly and giddy, and what the hell was happening to me, and why did I leave the safety of the Lircle??
As Rich and I grew closer, I started to introduce him to friends with just a little hope that they would find the giant red flag that I was obviously missing. No dice. We spent a Saturday in April driving to and from Wilmington so that my parents could meet him, because surely my mom would identify a great reason for me not to date him. Again, no dice.
Of course, everybody loved Rich. Why wouldn’t they? Me? I was slightly terrified. Was I dooming myself to another devastating breakup blow?
There was one big test left. Test? “Test Group” may have been a better phrase. Surely the Lircle wouldn’t give Rich such an easy passing grade. Right?
I cannot imagine Rich’s first thoughts as we arrived at Jen and Audra’s house. I’d told him we’d be going to a pool party, but I did not give him any specifics on the Lircle. It seemed more appropriate for him to figure it out himself, and, surely, he would see it as a lion’s den and scurry away, which would be totally fine because I could leave the love train. I could not imagine how he would react when he finally read the room.
Well, I mean, I can imagine it now because he’s told me, and it did take a few years for me to fully convince him that I wasn’t a lesbian at some point, or at least bisexual. Nope, just a straight girl hiding in the protective bosom of my lesbians.
Things went sideways almost immediately.
Rich was personable and fun and charming and engaging, and had he not read the room? The Lircle was personable and fun and welcoming and engrossed. When were they going to tell me I should dump him? Was that later?
It’s not that I hadn’t seen Rich in the wild, at this point; it’s that I hadn’t realized how at ease he was in the wild. Any wild at all, as it turned out.
We swam; we stuffed ourselves with burgers; we had a few cocktails…still, nothing. When Rich skittered off to find the bathroom I quickly asked for feedback. Everyone loved him. “Total keeper” was repeated over and over. Seriously? Not a single flag being thrown? I was in my seventh round of “Yeah but…” when one of the ladies came bouncing out of the house saying, “Hey, your boyfriend is in there playing guitar.”
Wait, now what?
“First of all, he’s not my boyfriend,” I responded, “Second, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know how to play guitar.” Obviously, it was at that moment that Rich came strolling back outside, guitar in hand, playing actual music. “Whose guitar is this? Is it okay if I play it? I just tuned it.”
Okay, whatever. So he grabbed a random guitar and tuned it. He then strolled right over to a bar stool (where the eff did that come from??), sat down, and started playing an Indigo Girls song because THAT IS HOW WELL HE READ THE ROOM. I hadn’t even been aware until that very moment that he understood my tribe. WHAT THE ACTUAL EFF.
Everyone, everyone, immediately shifted their chairs or wandered onto the porch while I tried to pick my jaw up off the floor. HOW DID WE GO FROM A HUNT FOR RED FLAGS TO A CONCERT??? I half-expected someone to throw out a tip jar.
Needless to say, the Lircle was fully invested in the Rich & Jyl pairing. There would be no warnings or suspicions or any of the things that might have caused me to pump the brakes on this relationship. Instead, Rich solidified himself as a bona fide boyfriend, future husband, and a total hero with an Olympic-level ability to manage any lion’s den I threw him into.
Even if that lion’s den was the Lircle.
The face of a man who knew he had won the challenge:
