YZ came over yesterday. 

Two days ago (Friday) we went out on a date: tequila shot at the country dance hall followed by smores on the beach at Inspiration Point, a [private, as it turns out] park somewhere near Lucas/Wylie – but, as it turns out, I forgot the fire so we did not have the smores but sipped wine instead and talked under the stars. And neither of us were very far into our glasses before we were making out. Intensely. We stopped before things became too heated (we were in public, after all). 

On the drive home we had a good, honest convo. 

I told her about AJ, and I attempted to even to begin to explain our connetion and of course it was impossible, but I tried anyway, and attempted to very clearly convey, “The point is… I love her. I love her, and I always will, and I cannot help it as its beyond any kind of “feeling.” I love her, and its hard to balance that with everythign else – including this, or even the possibility of a relationship with anyone in the future. What am I supposed to do with that? I’ve come a long way, and there are lots of things I’ve learned about it, buts it’s a reality nonetheless.”

She thanked me for telling her. She opened up to me as well. Later, in the paring lot of her school (where we stayed till 2 or 3am), she told me that she had been sexually abused when she was young – repeatedly, and over the course of years. She did not want to say who, but she did say that he was now dead. And that her family knew – but not until recently.

Last night she came over. Late. Arrived around 10pm. She made the drive all the way from Sachse to Mckinney despite her anxiety about driving.

Things became heated quick, and fast. 

Based on where her hands were going, I knew we were headed for [I Ching Hex 6] but only if I were to stand and create it by being honest. 

And so I was. 

After all, as Line 3 affirmed, I’m “in service to a king.”

I was reminded of this, and the I Ching reading, as we lasy there on the couch. At one point, I looked up and saw JC, and it was as if he simply shrugged (and thus prompted the memory of me casting lots at his feet earlier) – and he looked at me and smiled and said, “Conflict.”

It was up to me. 

I told her that I needed to use the restroom. There, I reminded myself of the insights given to me over the past few days (weeks) and I said in the mirror: “Are you in the service of a King or not?” and I walked out and back into the living room. 

“Ok,” I sighed. “Time for real talk.” 

And I looked at her and told her that while everything in me would like nothing more than to just go wild and be free and that this (to me at least) Dionysian vibe is perfectly acceptable (in theory), I  yet have a problem (“Well, two…” I added) deep within me that I need to speak up about: 

“My heart belongs to another,” I said. Flatly, and simply. And I saw how heavy it landed. “My heart belongs to another, and that is the truth. And it is “ridiculous”, of course, for many reasons, not the least of which being the fact that she’s married, and all circumstances point to “us” (in the forms common to “relationships”) never happening – yet notheless, that is where my heart is, and who my heart is for, and so it makes these moments difficult. 

I did not tell her it felt like cheating. But it did. 

She lay there on the couch in silence, staring into space, as if taking it all in. 

“Thank you for telling me,” she said. 

She kept staring ahead of her. She was fixated on whatever she was looking at in front of her. Her face grew serious, and sad. 

A minute of silence passed. 

“Ok. I’ll say it,” she said. 

And then she turned to me. 

“Since you’ve been honest iwth me, I’ll be honest with you.” She closed her eyes, took a huge breath, and turned away, staring ahead of her.

“I want him back.” She said it flatly. Defeatedly. “I want him back, and I try so hard…” 

Her eyes filled with tears. 

She twitched her mouth to the side, somethign she does when she is hurt or sad. 

She turned back to me. 

“We still have sex together. Well, not since you, exactly… but still…” 

and she proceeded to tell me how she would approach him, or how how would approach her, and how she knew that he cared nothing for her emotionally and that it was only physical. 

And she began to cry. 

She looked at me and said, “It is the same. You are the same, but opposite.”

And I explained to her that that, on the contrary, my emotional connecton dictates the physical and is even (seemingly) its prerequisite.  

We layed there in silence, saying nothing. I wiped a tear as it rolled softly down her cheek. 

She sniffled. 

She did not cry or sob. 

She stared, still, at some spot ahead. 

And then she said, “He told me to say that.” 

I was confused. “What?” 

“He told me to tell you that. ‘Tell him,’ he said.” And she poited ahead to where she was looking, directly in front of her, to the JC icon on the wall. 

“He told you to tell me?” 

“Yes,” she said. She looked embarrassed. “It’s so weird… but, he told me that.”

I looked at the cross and in an instant remembered all the times where he spoke to me in the same kind, and I remembered him yesterday with the [Hex 1] and the [Hex 6] and the “if in service to a King…” 

and I worshipped Him and felt honored for knowing and serving such a King as this and I turned to her and said

“yeah…. he does that sometimes.” 

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