Define the Relationship

This is a continuation of Daniel’s and my story. Click on the “Our Story” tag for context.

Daniel and I Skyped that Saturday, our second Saturday Skype date. We had the normal sort of conversation, talk about everyday things, about ideas, whatever.

I mentioned Cathy’s question, about whether I’d told my family about the two of us. I briefly described my conversation with John, how I’d had to badger him, but eventually I managed to get ahold of him so I could tell him about Daniel.

It was odd, this–talking to Daniel about talking to other people about him. It felt even more weird because there wasn’t really any formal understanding between Daniel and I. So what exactly was I telling my family?

And how did I describe to Daniel what I was telling my family?

I suppose if I’d thought about it in advance, I might not have chosen to tell Daniel about telling my family. I might have shirked from the awkwardness, feared I’d be trying to force Daniel’s hand.

But I wasn’t thinking in advance, was simply sharing my life with Daniel. That’s what we did, after all. We were amazingly candid with one another, had always been. It was (is) one of the things I love most about our relationship.

And, in this case, it turned out rather well.

After hearing my story and commenting appropriately in all the right spots (acknowledging, for example, that brothers have the right and responsibility of talking tough at their sisters’ dates), Daniel asked me if he needed to define the relationship.

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Did he need to define the relationship?

Was I interested in having him define the relationship? Certainly. But I didn’t want to tell him that yes, I wanted him to define the relationship, lest I somehow force him to say something he didn’t mean.

Daniel saw my tentativeness and clarified what he’d meant. “It’s just that I’m noticing how you’ve had a hard time figuring out what words to use to describe you and me to your family, and how to describe what you’ve told your family to me. Would it be helpful…”

He didn’t wait for me to answer.

“Rebekah, I love you. I don’t know entirely if it’s God’s will or not, but I’d be very hurt if I didn’t end up marrying you.”

Did he just say what I thought he just said?

Did he just tell me he loved me?

I was listening dazed as he told me that he’d wrestled before today’s conversation with whether he would tell me what he was thinking. He’d been undecided at the start of our conversation, but now, well, he’d decided and had said it.

He loved me. He hoped to marry me someday.