Impossible Odds

until my friend returned. My resistance was fading fast. There were no rude awakenings from the spell of the evening, just more of this sweet masculine energy from a guy so appealing the only thing I felt uncomfortable about was how quickly my defenses were disappearing.
    Jen returned with her new guy, and the four of us arranged a double date for the next night. Erik and I gently kissed goodnight, Jen hopped in the car, and I drove away feeling an unexpected mix of anxiety and exhilaration.
    Our second date went beautifully, as did the next one and the next. Things just kept right on being good. I wasn’t sure what tothink, but by this point I was eager to see how far this thing might actually go.
    The oddest thing was that the more he told me about his background, the farther apart it appeared we ought to be. After all, I’m from a Christian household in rural Ohio, and he came from a small social democracy in the middle of Scandinavia. But instead of presenting major obstacles, the differences turned out to be mostly cosmetic. We were each raised by tolerant families. Our households shared a strong emphasis on the moral content of our lives. The fact that my parents had a religious backdrop for their teachings while his focused on ethics and personal honor seemed to be two sides of the same coin.
    We had each seen relationships dissolve out from under us because of our commitment to our work, and while both of us might sometimes give the appearance of being loners in the romance department, it turned out that we shared a strong sense of the value of a healthy family. We acknowledged the challenge and difficulties faced by anybody who might dare to love us. But neither one of us actually expected to go through life as a single entity. We had both just figured such things lay in the future, out of necessity.
    Everything about Erik Landemalm seemed so right and fit so well that I sailed through those first two weeks on a romantic high. He gave the distinct impression that he was returning my strong interest, and we began a pattern of seeing each other as often as our work schedules would permit.
    It went on that way for those first two weeks, and the feeling of it all was like running in total darkness down a smooth, steep hill. It was scary and exhilarating at the same time. This probably made it especially rough for Erik when I broke the news that after carefully thinking it over, I decided we really should stop seeing each other.
    It was a head-fake, okay? I didn’t know it at the time, but ofcourse that’s what it was. It was all just too good. My emotions were too strong, the impact was overwhelming, and my last deep entanglement with a man hadn’t exactly been a stellar experience. I began to feel overwhelmed by the prospect of finding out I was wrong about this guy. I found myself wondering if it could be possible for such a fine and true and powerful thing to actually be taking place at that point in my life.
    So of course I told him we had to break up. It makes perfect sense that an exciting new person can’t let you down if you run away before he gets the chance to disappoint. Thus the backward logic of self-doubt caused me to make one of the worst decisions of my life.
    I had no idea, until later, that what I really wanted him to do was prove my fears wrong. The cruelest thing he could have done at that time would have been to let me have my way.
    By that point I was getting to know him well enough that I should have realized it wouldn’t be so easy to discourage him. He’s gentle and his manner is calm, but he’s a force to be reckoned with. This is a man who spends his life dealing with terribly difficult situations that sometimes also involve difficult people, some of whom have few qualms about killing opponents and no particular reason to do anything he asks, except for the strength of his personality and determination. Without realizing it, I put myself up against that particular form of strength, the same one that had caused his parents to start referring to him as “the little diplomat” back when he was five years old.
    I learned he could argue a strong point without raising his voice. He could quietly reason his way through any objection I raised. He was determined to give us the chance to see if we were genuinely right for one another. And he wasn’t at all like guys who refuse to take a hint. Instead he introduced me to another part of himself that I didn’t even know I was hoping