01. The Grits
Ron and I had been dating for a few months when I realized something curious — even though he was always on the phone with his family (his mom, his cousins, his brother, his grandma), I had never met any of them. So I told him, “I feel like your dirty little secret. When do I get to meet your people?”
He planned a weekend in Philly, and on Sunday morning, just as I was getting dressed, I asked, “So… who am I meeting today?” Without missing a beat, he said, “My mom.”
Cue my panic — only a few hours’ notice to meet the mother! But I rallied, met her, and she was absolutely lovely.
That same day, my cousin Brenda (who’s more like my aunt) called to remind me about Easter plans. She lives in the house we co-own in Charlotte, and I had planned to bring Ron to meet her and see the house that holiday. But Ron thought he’d be meeting my parents too. When I said no, he’d just be meeting my cousin, he looked like I shot his puppy. So, I invited my parents — but only after scheduling it so Brenda could meet him first (I needed a buffer!).
Brenda, a/k/a Southern Domestic Diva and chef extraordinaire, immediately offered to make Ron a Southern classic meal – fish and grits. She turned to him and asked, “Ron, do you eat grits?”
My sweet, deep chocolate man turned, froze like a deer caught in headlights, turned beet red, stammered for a few seconds, and eventually eeked out a quiet, “No.”
Brenda looked stunned. Just like the aunt in My Big Fat Greek Wedding who learned that Tula’s fiancé was a vegetarian before spouting out, ‘He Don’t Eat No Meat!!!!”, Brenda could not help but demand “What do you mean you don’t eat grits?!”
Seeing the tension in Ron’s shoulders, she softly reassured him: “Not to worry. There’s plenty more to eat. I’m sure it won’t come up again.”
The next day, Ron and I picked up my parents from the airport. My mom began her curious interrogation of this new human she was eager to know, and they hit it off like old friends. When we arrived at the house, we walked in to be greeted by the decadent smells of Brenda’s Southern feast. My mother lit up like a Christmas tree. “Ooh, Brenda! Are we having your famous fish and grits?” she asked. “Of course!” Brenda said.
Then, without missing a beat, my mom turned to Ron and asked brightly, “Ron, do you eat grits?”
And once again… his chocolate face turns beet red.
Me and Brenda could not help but laugh hysterically.
In her usual convivial way, Brenda saved him by interjecting, “He doesn’t eat grits, but he’s still good people.”
Thankfully, before we had even arrived from the airport, my mother had reached that conclusion on her own.
02. Broke Back Workcation
Ron and I began dating in February 2022, and by July, we were inseparable — spending 3 to 4 days together each week. Before we met, I had already booked and paid for a yachting trip to Tahiti, but as it approached, the idea of being apart for two and a half weeks felt… sad.
The trip was sold out, so he couldn’t join me. And, I couldn’t get a refund at that point, so we decided that I could take off the entire month of July. We’d spend the first two weeks together: one for vacation, one for a “workcation” in an Airbnb, and then I’d be off to Tahiti.
But life had other plans. In June, I threw out my back. I was in excruciating pain for weeks, unable to walk, let alone work. I was unsure I’d even be able to go on the trip. But physical therapy helped. So, by end of June, I was back to work and still aiming to go on the trip.
Having just been out of work the month of June, I had reconsidered taking time off in July before the trip, but Ron insisted that we still take at least one week for a workcation in July. So, we rented an Airbnb in South Philly and spent our days walking the city, eating good food, visiting festivals, and soaking in each other’s company, and at night, he went to work while I slept, eager for his return the next morning.
One day, after hours out and about walking, my back couldn’t take it anymore. I had to sit down on the sidewalk just to give my back a reprieve. Ron offered to get the car to drive me back to the Air BnB, but I refused — stubborn pride. I eventually hobbled back to our dwelling, holding in tears the whole way.
When we arrived, I hobbled to the back den, tears streaming down my face. I felt dejected, frustrated and downright angry at my body for its lack of cooperation.
Ron followed me into the den, ready to comfort me. But, as reached out to wipe away my tears, I threw my hand up and said, “Don’t. I need a moment.” And to my surprise, he kissed my forehead, turned around and left.
Mind you – in past relationships, that type of request would have triggered any number of reactions, ranging from POUTING and petulant chastisement that I had the AUDACITY not to welcome the man’s need to be my savior in the moment, to RAGE that I did not prioritize his desire to be present with me over my emotional need to be alone to self soothe.
But much to my shock, Ron simply accepted my request. No guilting. No shaming. No making the moment about him.
Just pure compassion, mixed with kindness and acceptance.
Fifteen minutes later, after I had cried it out and started to pull myself together, he knocked softly and peeked his handsome smiling face into the room. He asked if he could come in, to which I nodded slowly.
He sat down beside me and asked, “What do you need?”
I wrapped my arms around him and whispered, “Everything God sent me, but I never knew I needed. I need you.”
We held each other for a long, quiet while. And in that moment, I knew I loved him and that I’d love him for the rest of my life.
