Self-Help Memoir Miniature: Love Is a Form of Worship (Alone and Together, Part Twenty-Four)

And so, ever since I have known David, I have loved him, and adored him, and thought about him as much as I could. I’d even say: I worshipped him. On purpose.

One day, while we were on a trip to South America, he and I had a fight. We were riding a crowded bus into Bogota looking for our hostel after a long night traveling from Peru, and David asked me to try to communicate with someone in my tenuous Spanish, asking them where we were.

“I’m too tired,” I said. “I can’t do it.”

I was sick of everything. I was sick of traveling.

I was mad.

Fortunately, a boy sitting near us on the bus spoke English. He overheard us talking and offered to help.

I looked at his kind face and started to cry.

David explained to him that I was really tired and the boy just smiled and said that he understood.

When we got off the bus, David and I didn’t look for our hostel right away. Instead, we sat in a park for a while and took a break. David held me and said that he knows that he pushed me too hard and that he would take care of everything else we needed for the rest of the day.

That was exactly what I needed to hear.

I have cried in his arms before and he said the right thing that time, too.

This is an important quality in a boyfriend.

After this experience, I trusted David more than ever. I realized that he was more mature than anyone else I knew. I wanted to give him everything of me.

It’s like how, when I was a Christian, I used to feel about Jesus. He became everything to me.

He became my religion. Not literally, of course. But I lived for him then, and I still do.

He was at least part of my religion.

One time, during the first year of my relationship with David, we went to a movie. The movie was only okay, but we enjoyed being there together.

Romance is really not that hard.

At one point, when we were at the theater, I watched David from across the room. There were a lot of other people standing around and he was trying to get back to his seat.

He looked perfect.

Somehow, for some reason, seeing him from far away like that made me remember how much I love him. Somehow, it made him more precious.

I was proud of him.

I decided to try to remember to make him happy every day—not to think only about myself, but to do something to make him happy every day. And, I think, I have.



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