Sometimes
I wake up in the morning wondering if I dreamt it all. Before
opening my eyes, I touch my ring finger to see if it's really there.
Such a tiny, glittery little thing. Can this all be real?
I'm not sure
where it all started. Looking back it all seems so clear and so
obvious. But that's retrospect. At the time, nothing was clear to me...
How We
Met
Three
years ago I attended my first SCA activity. It was January 7, 2002, and
the event was Ceilidh. I
dressed up in costume, met a lot of interesting people, danced, and took
a Medieval Games class. It was a busy evening, and the first of many
interesting adventures in the SCA. I was so enthusiastic about it, I
went home and posted a long diary entry about it. You can read it here: Vanquishing
Someday.
Something else
happened that evening, and I actually mentioned it in my January Update:
...The second
dance I stepped out to watch. I wanted to see what it looked like,
from the sidelines. While the steps were being learned, I noticed a
tall, dark-haired young man in a blue tunic standing nearby.
I recognized
a digital camera hanging from his neck. For several months, I've been
wanting to get a digital camera, and just that afternoon I'd been
looking at them at Best Buy.
Without
thinking how glaringly out of period it was to talk about digital
cameras, I asked him about it. Specifically, I wanted to know what the
resolution was. Thankfully, he was gracious enough to forgive me my
modern language. He told me I could see examples of the pictures
online, and I made a mental note to revisit the photo page.
That's all I
wrote, but that's not all that happened. I was feeling vaguely left out;
everyone knew each other, and I was an outsider trying to get involved.
I settled in a chair to rest my feet.
And then, from
across the room, I saw him and my heart leaped. All I saw were his eyes.
They were clear and kind, strong and quiet, earnest and sincere. They
say the eyes are windows into a man's soul. I knew the moment I looked
into his that this was an honest man.
I
was shy of guys - especially young, available guys. And this was no
exception. But I knew this was someone I wanted to meet. So I took a
deep breath and called out to him. And the camera was a convenient
icebreaker, since I was planning to purchase one.
He stepped closer
and turned his dark eyes on me. I almost lost my courage, until I
realized he was just as shy. We chatted a bit but quickly ran out of
small talk. The conversation was short, but it was the beginning of a
long and wonderful friendship.
Camping
Brian lived in
Salem, but I only saw him at SCA events. In May there were two large camping
events, and a group of us decided to combine our camp kitchen and circle
our tents around it. Brian was part of the group.
At
night I was afraid to walk the events alone. The SCA attracts a broad
variety of people, and many of them drink and party after dark. But
there are bardic circles and storytellers, entertainers and fire dancers,
even plays at large events. So I would gather a small group of friends
and we'd go out to see the sights together.
But as the hour
grew late, most people drifted back to camp and the comfort of a warm
campfire. Eventually it would fall to just Brian and I wandering the
trails and visiting the various encampments. We never really talked - we
just walked together, content with each other's silent company.
One Summer night
we were sitting around the campfire with the usual group. There was a
lot of talk and laughter, but as the fire died down, they began to amble
away to bed. I didn't feel like sleeping. Neither did Brian, it seemed,
as he put another log on the fire. We started talking, and the hours
slipped away. A chill breeze had come up, but I couldn't bear to call it
a night. It was so nice talking to him.
Finally Brian
stood up and, without a word, went to his tent. I frowned. After such a
pleasant conversation it seemed rude of him to retire without so much as
a goodnight. I turned my attention to the fire. Being the last one up,
it would be my duty to put out the coals. I sighed. That's probably why
Brian left so abruptly. He probably doesn't want to be left with the
chore of putting out the fire, I thought.
I realized I was
shivering. The eastern sky had turned an icy blue, and the stars were
fading along the horizon. We had stayed up all night. It was morning.
Then I heard a
rustle and looked up to see Brian returning to the fire with a cloak in
his arms. Without a word, he wrapped it around my shoulders and returned
to his seat. I stared at him in astonishment. Such a gentleman -
suddenly regretting the hastily made conclusions I had made earlier
about his character.
Friends
Brian had offered
to cook one of the meals for our group, and he went all out on it. He
even made chocolate cake with cherry sauce. I never dreamed it was meant
to impress me.
After
dinner we went for a walk. He took me down to the torchlight tournament,
and we found a place on the hillside just outside of the crowd to stand
and talk. I was so happy to have his friendship that I began talking
about it. I confided how special our conversations were, and that I
always wanted to be friends.
Brian's reaction
was not what I expected. He seemed sobered by my enthusiasm. It seemed
the more I said, the more he withdrew from me. I tried to shrug it off,
but something had changed. His eyes had darkened and he wasn't smiling
anymore.
It would be a long
time before I understood what happened that night. In my enthusiasm to
express my admiration for him, I had inadvertently pushed him away by
calling him a "friend." He didn't want to be "just"
a friend. But he cared too much to push the issue, and he resigned
himself to "friendship."
Brian and I began
chatting on the internet regularly. Late at night, when everyone else
had gone offline, he was still there. We talked about everything. He was
just ten months older than me, and we had many things in common.
I began turning to
him for advice as he always seemed to see things clearly, and I came to
admire his unique insights. When someone I didn't know very well asked
me to be his consort in a tournament, I was trying to decide how to say
no and turned to Brian for help. I was afraid of hurting the gentleman's
feelings, but Brian told me not to feel bad about saying no, if that was
my decision. "If you tell him no, he can move on and ask someone
else," he said.
I did say no, and
the gentleman did move on, and he did ask someone else. But I had
learned a lesson, and my respect for Brian grew.
I looked forward
to seeing each other at events. We were always the last ones to bed, and
the sunrise sneaked up on us numerous times. I treasured our time
together, but I didn't think of him romantically. I flirted with him
sometimes, but always very subtly. Although we had become close, I was
still shy of him in that way.
In the spring of
2004, we began talking on the phone regularly. He had been calling since
late autumn, but now he was calling every night. We had so much to talk
about. My mother commented on how happy I was. "He makes you
laugh," she noted. "I've never seen anyone make you laugh like
he does."
He's the strong,
silent type. In social situations, he tends to just listen. But with me,
on the phone, he would relax and share his thoughts and ideas. And yes,
he made me laugh. Late into the night, I would sit cuddled up on the
couch with a kitty and the telephone, listening to his stories and
talking about the future.
Internet
Dating
As a gift, my
parents purchased a subscription to Eharmony for me. They were concerned
about the fact that I was 24 and still single. I was prepared to remain
single if God didn't send the right man into my life, but it seemed like
a grim and lonely future. I wasn't meeting anybody, and there didn't
seem to be any prospects on the horizon.
I signed up with
several online dating programs, and soon I was chatting with lots of
different people. I was introduced to people from all over America, but
at the end of the day, I really looked forward to Brian's phone call. He
listened patiently as I told him about my experiences online. He didn't
say much, and I began to suspect that it bothered him.
It didn't take
long for me to become thoroughly frustrated with Eharmony, and the
various online dating sites. I didn't feel like I could express who I
really was in a short little profile and two or three photos. Worse, I
was truly unimpressed by the people I met. Most of them were desperate,
many of them divorced, and a frightening number of them were
already parents.
These people had
issues and emotional baggage I had never dreamed of. Life seemed very
complicated, and I felt even more alone.
All I wanted was
to find a friend. Someone I could talk to. Someone with similar values
and a sense of integrity. I wasn't asking for much. In fact, I would
like to have met someone who was truly SINGLE and, like me,
inexperienced at dating!
One of the many
guys I talked to started sounding good - until he began telling me
about his house. He had purchased a house on a thirty-year mortgage and
my heart sunk. Not only do I feel that debt is a mistake, I realized
this guy had already planned out his life... and I wasn't in it.
I started emailing
a young man in Washington who wrote frighteningly long emails. He raved
about how much he loved science, so I decided to give him a call. He
panicked, however, when I asked for his phone number. He claimed that
people listened to all his phone calls, and he needed to know exactly
when I was calling so he could prepare. I did go so far as to call him,
if only out of morbid curiosity. It was one of the most awkward
conversations of my life, and I was very glad I had used a phone card,
and could retain my anonymity.
Then there was the
commuter guy. He lived in Bend, but traveled back through Salem to visit
his mother EVERY weekend. Our conversations revolved around the close
relationship he had with his mother, and I found it disturbing.
One evening I was searching through the personals again,
and found a refreshing new ad, posted by someone in Salem. He sounded
perfect. He hadn't posted a picture, but I could tell by his details
that this was someone I wanted to meet. In a rush of excitement, I
clicked the contact button to write an email. Suddenly I stopped short.
What if...?
I looked forward
to the phone ringing that night. Brian was his usual pleasant self, and
we chatted for a long time before I brought it up. "Hey, are you
signed up with any singles websites?" I asked. I had been
encouraging him try it, but he had just laughed. He said he'd tried
personals several years before, and was not impressed by the quality of
the people.
"Are
you?" I asked again. He was evading my question, which aroused
my suspicions even more. Silence. Guilty silence.
So I tried a more
direct approach. I told him about the ad. "Is that you?" I
demanded. He finally relented. Not only was it him, but he had registered
with every free personals site he could find in the hope of viewing my
profile.
Somehow, I wasn't
surprised. But it was then that I realized how impossible the online
dating environment was. We were expected to exchange profiles, look at a
picture, email each other and somehow establish a relationship. How
could I appreciate who they were, and how could they possibly understand
who I was? No history, no common ground. Just a desire to find a mate?
It was doomed to failure.
I began to really
appreciate Brian's friendship that night. He understood me, as no one
else could. And I trusted him. Two years of friendship had cultivated an
understanding between us that no one else could begin to compete with.
The
River
It
had been a long evening. The event was Egils, 2004. This was the party
event of the year, and I was completely out of place. Every year I went
to Egils, and every year I found myself wondering what in the world I
was doing there.
Up on the flats,
people set up impressive, period tents and pavilions, surrounded by
torches and campfires, and at night it felt like a trip through the
middle ages. But down in the trees, across the road, the "fringies"
set up camp and partied. They brought alcohol and loud music, and they
wore all manner of costumes (mostly Goth and pirate). The
nickname for it was the Slums, and at night, it became very loud and
unwieldy.
Brian and I had
signed up as volunteers for the Constable, and our duties included
carrying radios and walking the entire site to make sure things were
safe - no unattended camp fires, no tents in the road, etc..
This was a
pleasant job around the period pavilions and the open market, but down
in the woods, I found myself wondering why I ever joined the SCA. And as
time passed, and the night grew darker, the parties became wilder. Even
Brian looked uncomfortable. I clung to his arm as he guided me along the
crowded paths.
Finally we made it
down to the river, away from all the noise. I had been looking forward
to a few minutes alone with him, and he seemed in no hurry to leave the
riverbank. So we stood there in the moonlight, watching the twinkle of
stars reflecting off the water.
At last we began
talking. I'll never remember what the subject was, but I do recall how
safe and happy I was. How glad I was to have such a true friend at my
side.
And then it came
up. Dating. Why hadn't we dated each other? "There's no future in
it," I remember saying, as though trying to convince myself. But he
wasn't convinced. We had everything in common. We liked each other. We
didn't want to spend time with anyone else. What would happen if we
considered each other romantically?
I came up with
lots of excuses. I told him about my history, about my family, about
being in the news ever since I could remember, about my strong beliefs
and how I put God first, and how I was dedicated to following Jesus'
commandments in the Bible. We had talked about our faith before, and he
knew almost everything about me, but I opened the flood gates and told
him how difficult and frustrating my future would be. I told him that being a follower of Jesus
means you'll most likely be hated by the world.
But discouraging
him was futile. He already knew all those things, and he was not only
okay with it, he wanted to join me.
It was time to
circle through the park again, so we headed back up toward the upper
field. The Slums were even rowdier and the road was so crowded that you
had to push your way through. We were jostled and shoved and it was
impossible to talk. We decided to take a breather at a drum circle where
a group of people were playing drums. We found a seat along the edge of
the stage, back in the shadows.
It was too noisy
to talk, but I leaned my head against Brian's shoulder and closed my
eyes. I began to wonder if there was any future for us. What if this was
the man I had been searching for all this time? Wouldn't it be ironic if
he was sitting right next to me all this time, and I never even noticed him?
It was time to go
again. He helped me to my feet and we pushed our way out onto the road.
We needed to get back to Constables Point to return the radios, since
our shift was finally over. The night air was painfully cold and I had
begun to cough. Ever the gentleman, Brian put an arm around me, trying
to keep me warm with his cloak.
As we approached
Constables Point, several people came running. They were laughing loudly
and having a good time, and didn't see us in our dark clothes. One of
the guys nearly ran me over, but Brian pulled me out of the way just in
time. He was annoyed and was preparing to scold the careless young man,
but was subdued by a quick and sincere apology. In
that moment, I saw how much Brian cared about me. He was ready in a
moment to defend me, and yet wise enough to handle the situation
diplomatically, rather than cause a scene.
Courting
Summer
came, and with it, a visitor. He had talked about it before, mentioned
the idea in passing. He wanted to know how many miles it was from Salem
to Stayton.
And then he tried
it. He packed a backpack and bicycled out to see me. Seventeen miles! He
visited for a few hours, and then returned home. I didn't think he'd
ever do it again. It was a long, painful journey up steep hills and
through treacherous traffic.
But he did come
again. And again. Twice a week, Brian visited me on his bicycle. He
enjoyed the exercise, and he enjoyed my company.
July 4, 2004,
Brian came out to spend the holiday with my family. He also chose to
speak with my Dad about our growing interest in each other. Being the
polite young man that he is, he decided to ask my father's permission to
court me. When he confided his thoughts several weeks before, I freaked
out and begged him not to. Things were getting serious, and I suddenly
felt shy. Finally, around the fourth of July, I agreed that we needed to
bring my parents into the situation. We were falling in love, and I knew
it.
Dear Brian. He was
all prepared to approach my Dad, when my Dad decided to approach him.
The two men talked all afternoon, and all three of us became sunburned.
Dad told him everything he expected of a son-in-law, and laid out the
rules of our courtship. He also warned us that once you take steps in
this direction, there are only two outcomes: Marriage, or breakup.
There's no middle of the road. You can't have both. You risk everything,
but it's the only way to go forward.
My heart was
pounding and I felt dizzy. This was a lot to take in. We were talking
about marriage, and we had never even held hands. I wasn't ready
to think about anything that serious. I was afraid Brian was either
bored or scared, and I wondered what we'd say to each other later.
But Brian didn't
seem bothered. He appreciated my father's honest, straightforward
manner, and by the end of the afternoon, he seemed very comfortable with
my family.
And so began
our courtship. We began to talk about more serious things, and to
explore our dreams and expectations of the future. And slowly, but
surely, the world became a brighter place, and the future began to fill
with new hopes and new dreams.
Falling
in Love
One day Brian and
I walked to Stayton to see a movie: Spiderman 2. Several
minutes into the film, he slipped his arm around my shoulders. I glanced
up at him shyly, and he smiled back. Later he took my hand, and we held
hands for the first time. It was a strange thrill to touch his fingers.
We had known each other for two years, spent hundreds of hours together
talking and sitting together. But this was the first time we had held
hands.
It's a unique
experience to fall in love with your best friend. You find yourself
suddenly attracted to them in a new way, but it's particularly odd
because you already know them so well. You already know what kind of
person they are, and you already love them for who they are inside.
After the movie,
we walked to the river near Pioneer Park. We sat in the sunshine and
talked for hours. I found myself wondering what it would be like to
spend our lives together, and wondering if it were possible for us.
Strawberries
and Stars
The next event was
July Coronation. It was impossible to hide our new found interest in each
other. Our friends began to complain that we didn't have time for them
anymore. I knew we were being exclusive, but all we wanted to do was
talk and spend time together.
After dinner,
Brian invited me on a walk. I was glad to get away, and we wandered down
toward the river together. Imagine my surprise when he led me out onto a
little dock stretching over the water. At the end of the dock was a
table set for two, complete with candles on a white linen and bowls of
strawberries.
"Dessert,"
he announced. I was thrilled. It was such a sweet surprise. He helped me
sit down in my long Tudor gown, and proceeded to pop the cork on a
bottle of sparkling cider. It was a picture-perfect scene.
The candles
flickered and fluttered in the warm summer breeze. The stars never
sparkled so brightly, and the frogs croaked with reckless abandon.
After sipping
cider and chatting about the day, we blew out the candles and stood in
the starlight eating strawberries. It was amusing to toss the stems out
over the water, and startle the croaking frogs.
Then we hugged.
And I never wanted to let go. His strong arms encircled me with such
warmth and tenderness that I wanted the moment to last forever. I closed
my eyes and tried to make time stop.
First
Kiss
I had never been
kissed before. I felt it was deeply personal, and I didn't want to share
it with just anyone. I had made this clear to everyone I had
dated. They could kiss me on the forehead or cheek, but not on the lips.
Brian hadn't
kissed, either. We joked about the fact that both of us were in our mid
twenties, and neither of us had shared a kiss with anyone. We admitted
that it made us shy, especially when we thought about how experienced
everyone else was.
Now that we were
courting, I knew it was going to come up. I tried not to think about it.
I could feel myself blushing every time the thought crossed my mind. I
remember sitting by the river at Pioneer Park and wondering if Brian
would be my first kiss. It was a startling thought.
Especially when he
commented in passing that the only way to discover whether he was a frog
or a prince was to kiss him. Was he serious? Or was he speaking
hypothetically?
It was another
late night at an event. We had finished setting up camp, and gone out to
enjoy the warm summer evening. We were standing in a clearing talking
when it happened. He leaned over and we kissed. Then he whispered in my
ear, "You're the first girl I've ever kissed, and I want you to be
the last."
Baptism
Summer
flew by, and soon it was October. Brian was reading his Bible, and every
night, when he called, he had things to share with me. He was
discovering things I had never noticed before, and we found ourselves
engrossed in deep discussions.
All summer he had
been talking about getting baptized. He decided, from reading the New
Testament, that the next step was to dedicate his life to Christ through
baptism. He mentioned asking my Dad, but I didn't encourage the idea.
By October he was
becoming insistent. Far be it from me to stand in the way! October 3rd,
2004, he walked down to the creek with my Dad and a few close friends
and family, and allowed himself to be baptized.
Engagement
By December, Brian
and I were talking more seriously about marriage. We spent every waking
moment together. Saying goodnight was the most painful part of the day.
We hated to part, and we spent long moments just saying goodnight.
Neither of us were
getting any sleep. We had so much to talk about! I worked to get things
done during the day, and then stayed up all night talking to Brian on
the phone.
I
also noticed my parents were growing more romantic. Seeing us together
reminded them of their own courting days. "We used to talk all
night, too," Dad commented once. "What did we talk
about?" he wondered aloud.
Brian took me to
look at rings, and took note of my size and preference. I knew he was
planning to ask me to marry him, but I didn't think it would be any time
soon. We had plenty of time.
January 10, 2005,
Brian took me to Ceilidh. It was my three-year anniversary since meeting
him, and three years since my first SCA event. We spent the afternoon
visiting his mother, then drove down toward Church Street.
Suddenly I
realized I hadn't taken some packages to the Post Office for my parents,
and it was after five. I felt terrible about it and started worrying
about what I was going to tell my parents. They had been hoping to get
them in the mail that afternoon.
Instead
of turning right onto Church Street, Brian turned left on High Street
and parked by the Bush mansion. Last summer we had come here twice to
visit the museum, and to ride the horse and carriage in the park. But
now it was dark and a chilly wind was blowing.
I figured Brian
was trying to calm me down so I wouldn't worry so much about the
packages. He led me up the creaky old steps of the Bush house and seated
me on a bench under the wisteria vines. We were both dressed in costume,
and he looked dashing in his dark tunic and a silver circlet around his
head.
We sat together
for a few minutes, talking in the dark, and I slowly began to feel
better. "Thanks for bringing me here," I smiled and reached
over to caress his back. "You're shaking," I exclaimed in
concern. "You must be cold."
"No, I'm
okay," he tried to assure me, but I still worried. Then he squeezed
my hand and moved to kneel before me. I didn't fully understand until he
drew a jewelry box from his pouch and began, "Brooke, my
love..."
It was my turn to
start shaking. This was it. This was the big decision. "...Will you
marry me?" he was asking, slipping the ring on my finger. I wanted
to say yes. I wanted to say it eloquently. But all I could do was cry.
Tears of emotion spilled down my cheeks and somehow I said yes, and
something about needing my Father's permission.
And then we were
in each other's arms, hugging and kissing and crying. We went back to
the car and I called my parents to inform them of the news. I was
nervous about what Dad would say. I hated telling him over the phone, and
we offered to skip Ceilidh to come right home and talk.
But he didn't seem
that surprised. He asked a few questions, like, was this really the man
I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and did I want to wake up
next to him every morning? Then he gave his permission and blessing, and
instructed me to have it announced at Ceilidh before all our friends.
The evening rushed
by. The Baron and Baroness held court, and we were called forward to
make the announcement. I told them a little of what had happened, and Brian
knelt before me and reenacted the proposal for everyone. Many wonderful
people came and congratulated us, and I was able to look at the ring in
the light. It was beautiful! A real diamond, Princess cut, in a
cathedral mount on a gold band.
Our friends were a
little surprised. "I thought you guys were just friends!" they
kept saying. And for the record, yes, we are friends - great
friends! But we're no longer just friends. We've taken friendship
a step further... a big step further.
Wedding
Plans
So now we're
experiencing that flurry of plans and excitement that proceeds a
wedding. I had no idea how intense engagement is. Every day, every
conversation, practically every waking thought is about the wedding.
Sometimes the stress is almost unbearable.
Which is when
Brian steps in and rescues me. He knows just when to sweep me away to
Shelburg Falls for a hike, or Stayton to watch a movie, or just out for
a drive.
I
read in a bridal magazine that "Brides don't come out and say
they want their weddings to be impressive, they just say they want to
make the day 'memorable.'"1
This is true. There's a big temptation to compete in some kind of
invisible race. I keep feeling the desire to outdo every girl I've ever
known and have the biggest, prettiest, most impressive wedding they've
ever seen.
But when I
mentioned this to Brian, he gave me a reality check. "Do you really
think that they'll be impressed?" he asked. They're just doing the
same thing. They want to win, and they won't be impressed with your
wedding, no matter how hard you try. There's no happy ending to such a
story.
It
was refreshing to realize this. What was I doing?! This wasn't the
moment to compete, this was the moment to share! So I found myself
seeing the wedding in a new light. Not a time for being the
"best," but a moment for sharing and celebrating the joy of
the journey upon which Brian I are embarking.
And I wonder how
this all happened. Soon I'll be leaving the world of singles, and
entering the world of married people. It's a strange feeling. When we
told Brian's best friend that we were courting, he said, "Yeah, I
saw that coming." He went on to predict that we would never break
up. "There's nothing to stop you... you're perfect for each
other."
So we're looking
forward to seeing everyone at our wedding. The date is set for May 7,
2005, and we're hoping you will all come and celebrate with us.
Sincerely and with
love,
Brooke Revere
and Brian Neuton
Click here to visit our
wedding site
1.
Quote
from an article entitled Due Diligence, by Deborah A. Wilburn, published
by Elegant Bride, Feb/Mar 2005
