The Friday Night Prayer

and the art of surrender

I must have drafted the text twenty seven times.

Thought about what time of day to send it. I could send it early, but would I fuck up his work day if it felt like a bomb? I could wait until the afternoon, but I know he livestreams and I don’t want to interrupt that energy. I could send it in the evening, but I wouldn’t want him to think I’d had a few wines and felt nostalgic.

Because this message was real. It was intentional, it was deep, and it needed to land perfectly.

We hadn’t spoken in a month and a half. After I burned it all down again because I was terrified that it was going so well again that it couldn’t possibly be real. I was supposed to fly down for the kids’ birthdays. But I bailed.

Then I told him I couldn’t do this anymore.

I had my reasons — kind of. Do the “reasons” ever really go away when two flawed humans are in love and doing their best? Is there a timeline people are supposed to get past their reasons? Or do people live with those reasons, work on them, and let their love and commitment toward each other take the wheel?

What did I know? I have never seen another relationship I’d want to be in. I see divorce, I see affairs, I see women who secretly hate their husbands lying on Instagram and posting happy images of their families. I see husbands who slide up in my DMs that think it’s okay to tell me I’m beautiful or invite me to drinks. I see people lying to themselves — and each other — everywhere.

So really, I have no idea what this is all supposed to look like. Does anyone?

I fired off the text at 7:23 PM on a Friday. I was completely sober (I had taken a long stretch of time off from drinking and was doing a lot of deep nervous system healing).

He read it immediately and responded within seconds: