The bass was thumping. The drinks were flowing and my hips were swaying. My eyes darted around at each beautiful person that hit the dance floor one after another but then she spoke. Why didn’t I learn before our trip to New York that my friend was annoying as hell. Her new height of 5’2 thanks to the heels that we picked out earlier was no comparison to the loud insanity that came out of her mouth at times. Why was she killing my high? I needed an escape route and at that moment he walked in.

Yesss there is a God!

My significant other of 12 years walked in the door. He wasn’t my type physically but his smooth gentleman demeanor made me melt. At least he was a temporary distraction from my friend who appalled me since she was the only one that thought she was the prettiest girl in the room. Mission accomplished. I thanked him silently for asking me to dance.

Fast forward 12 years. He is my best friend. He is loving. He is my provider. He is sensitive. He is caring. So why is he still not my husband and I his wife?

What’s the problem?

Some women complain that they are always the bridesmaid and never the bride. My complaint is don’t ask me if you don’t want to hear the answer. Harsh, ugh, I know but I am working on it. Saying yes to the dress would be easy and picking out which shoes hmm that would be a snap. Saying yes to getting married scares the sh*t out of me.

It’s so crazy since being in love thrills me but being in a marriage sends me running to the hills. Why?

Remember this:
Bag lady you goin’ hurt your back
Draggin’ all ’em bags like that
I guess nobody ever told you
All you must hold on to
Is you, is you, is you
-Erkyah Badu

I got baggage from my childhood that breathes life into my issues. We all have bags. Some drag us down and some we are able to overcome. Clearly, my bags have weights in them that outweigh any amount of glistening carats that I could have, if he put a ring on it. But I still remember my Mom seemingly taking orders from a man that she called her husband as his temper flared. His voice inflections rose as her esteem diminished. As if I was locked into an unparalleled battle with the two of them in my mind, my determination to not be owned or bossed around was born.

I want to release these demons. Stomp on them until I sweat or cry with triumph, whichever comes first. I have the love of my life who asks me every few years to marry him. I have God tapping me on my shoulder reminding me to get it right. I know, I know… the Bible says thou shalt not fornicate or some sort of message that means just that. Ugh, is that why God isn’t blessing me lately? I surely hope not.

I know all of this and have tossed these thoughts around my mind over and over. I surely would much rather spend my time dragging Louis Vuitton luggage around the airport travelling the world as opposed to dragging around my history in bags that I would rather check at the door. I guess we are all a working progress. I am resolved to working on my baggage. Who knows maybe I’ll end up walking down the aisle singing “all you must hold on to is you, is you, is youuuu….”

My motto: to experience the joys of life day by day in a great pair of shoes and accept that we are all beautifully flawed.

Kim Turner