An Old-Fashioned Romance, Part II

In retrospect, this story probably looked reeeally odd to normal people. Why all the big fuss just to decide you're going to go out with somebody? But I was writing it partly as an antidote to the super-spiritual courtship stories we'd been steeped in, where everything was carefully scripted, supervised, and didn't look like a whole lot of fun.

Read Part I here.

An Old-Fashioned Romance
August 2000

It was my friend Debra who pointed out that I had to go out of the country to go on my first date. She was right, too. It wasn’t what I would have predicted, but, then, my entire life had taken an entirely unpredicted turn. In light of the fact that Darren Jones had asked to court me, what was so extraordinary about my going to Canada so he could take me out to eat?

Throughout the few weeks after Mom received and answered Darren’s letter, Darren persisted in thinking he wanted to marry me. He wasn’t certain, mind you; that’s where the courtship part came in. I, on the other hand, did not think I wanted to marry Darren. But I wasn’t completely certain about that myself. I had to know him better before I could honestly decide for or against him. That being where the courtship part came in.

Despite my firmly-entrenched idea of never accepting Darren, he managed to scale a few walls even at the start. He had decided two and a half years before that he would like to court me, but he completed law school first – he was patient. Throughout all that time, he didn’t try to “reserve” me by winning my affections, even though there was no guarantee that someone else wouldn’t come along first; he just concentrated on becoming good friends – he was honorable. I certainly put on no pretenses around him, since I didn’t think he noticed me all that much; and he didn’t change his mind about me – he was steady. I allowed myself to say that his behavior was “impressive.”

“‘Impressive’?” my friend Jenna exclaimed. “Sara! You mean noble!” Well, yes, that is what I meant, but I’d perish before admitting it.

After daily e-mails to and from Darren, long conversations with my mother, careful consideration of what I wanted in a husband and whether Darren had those qualities, and above all faith that God wasn’t going to let me blunder into something I’d regret, I finally came to a decision in early December: Yes, I would visit Darren and his family for a week.

Heavens, no, I hadn’t decided to accept his offer of courtship! Not after less than a month – I hardly knew him. No, I arranged to visit him for a week, and he arranged to visit me a for a week later on. After that I’d decide about courtship.

The first week in January, I flew to Nova Scotia, where Darren was at his parents’ home studying for the bar exam. His parents – Mr. Phil and Miss Bev, to be Southern about it – spent the week welcoming me warmly, hosting me cheerfully, and spoiling me shamefully. I fell in love with his parents long before I got around to Darren himself. But Darren didn’t fare too badly, either. He was good enough to keep things easy and friendly, and treated me to amusement parks and movies and an Italian dinner. He bought me a necklace and gave me chocolate-covered cherries. “All right,” I wrote in my journal. “I’m charmed.”

I returned home in rather a glow. My mindset had changed from, “Do I really want to keep him?” to “Do I really want to risk losing him?”

His visit was scheduled for the end of February. By this time, several of our mutual “Virginia friends” knew what was in the air, and they were waiting impatiently for us to stop playing this coy little game of “we’re not courting yet.” Some took the non-pressuring approach, such as Miss Geni: “I won’t try to persuade you. The Holy Spirit does a much better job than I could.” Others took the reasoning approach, a la Mary Rose: “He’s older than you, taller than you, and richer than you. What other considerations could there possibly be?” And then there was the Committee for the Success of Darren, Jenna Pocoroba presiding: “He’s wonderful! He’s marvelous! He’s such a gentleman! We’ve agreed that other guys ought to take lessons from him.”

I asked Darren, “What did you do, bribe all my friends to say good things about you?”

His visit here was as enjoyable as mine up in Nova Scotia. The difference was that while I went up to visit a family, Darren came down to meet a community. There were so many friends who wanted to meet him that we had a gathering at our house the day after he got in – Darren and I referred to it as “The Exhibition.” When he drove me to work that Tuesday morning, the George County Times crew was on hand to meet this upstart Yankee who seemed intent on stealing away a good Southern girl. In fact, he was cordially abducted by Buddy and Barney, Inc. to eat breakfast at Tommy’s Restaurant. Tommy’s generally fries everything, but apparently Darren got grilled. “Oh, well,” I said fatalistically. “If he makes it through that, he’s got good stuff in him.”

He made it through – possibly to the disappointment of some devoted Southerners who would have liked to make this Yankee break and run – and we finished out a grand visit together. Before he left that Saturday, we made it official: Darren and I were courting. (Since “courting” is a term that’s only recently come back into use, it’s hard to know how to refer to it. As my friend Josh pointed out, people who date say they’re “going out” or “going with” someone. He suggested that courting couples say they’re “going to” – as in, “going to get married.” It hasn’t caught on yet.)

Darren’s battle was half-won: I’d consented to courtship. His next campaign was a concentrated effort to make me fall in love with him. By the way, I highly recommend finding a guy who wants you to fall in love with him. He puts a great deal into it, and if he happens to be the wonderful type (three guesses as to who my measure of “wonderful” is), a girl finds it a pleasure to be won over. Courtship, we both discovered, was just plain fun.

And that’s not all of the story.

-- SJ

Read Part III here.