(For the preceeding parts of this story, please click Relentless Pursuit: My Conversion Story)
Shock. Joy. Shock again…
I felt that I had won the lottery.
Was he serious??? ME???
Plus, I thought the phrase “fancy you”, the British way of saying you are crazy about someone, was so adorable. Even the expletive was adorable to me at the time.
It was an absolute fantasy. Me, of all the other women.
And I willingly became his girlfriend, right there, in the club… we danced and danced and drank some more, and I felt like I was in heaven. My life had become so miserable that I had forgotten what it was like to have fun. But this much fun? I didn’t think this was possible.
When the ladies, who were all winking and smiling at me the whole way home, dropped me off, I felt like I had been in a dream. Surely I was going to wake up the next morning and find that this didn’t really happen. It was all a blur, and maybe I had been imagining it…
But the next day at work, something was truly different.
I became Miss Special overnight. Now all the ladies simply adored me and wouldn’t even think of saying anything rude. After all, I was The One He Had Chosen. I was special, and rose to popularity in an instant. They asked me all sorts of questions, threw compliments steadily in my direction, and argued over who would get to work with me. Another shift even wanted me to be on THEIR shift. And they started gossiping about other ladies to ME.
They swooned and smiled and gushed, and I loved every minute of it. And, at every opportunity, they paired me up with ‘HIM’ so we could work together, as we were such an adoooooorable couple. Every minute at work became pleasure, even at a nursing home. Even the matron took a new respect to me and didn’t seem quite as ready to insult me.
The red carpet didn’t stop. I soon found out that he was from a wealthy family, and they, too, instantly adored me and treated me like a daughter. They took me in at every opportunity and lavished gifts and fine foods upon me. I was apparently the perfect girlfriend for their beloved son, and they encouraged our relationship. They took me on their exotic family vacations, and treated me as one of their own.
Meanwhile, at my own home, there was no red carpet. There were worn out and ugly arguments, depression, and division. We all continued to go to church as a family, but reluctantly or angrily. There seemed to be nothing but discord and misery at home. There seemed to be only darkness, while my new-found family seemed to offer a steady supply of light.
They were atheists.
And I was starting to like their ‘religion’…
…to be continued…