TRUST ME: “HAPPILY EVER AFTER” ISN’T FOR ALL, AND THAT’S OK

A Moment of BranSanity: You can keep ‘Happily Ever
After’ to yourselves
The charm and witty musings of this column have
been downgraded for this week.
Trishna is taking a break, so you get me, me, wonderful
me. I promise to behave and keep it moving
until she returns. In the meantime, we all get a free
ride into the water-logged mind of a Texas City native
turned La Marque resident to state hopping writer
who came back home.
My oldest nephew, Kevin Sanders, was married on
September 1 in what was one of the most beautiful
(can guys say “beautiful” without getting funny looks?)
days of my life. Of all of the heart-rending moments
that filled a gloriously sunny day in Fort Worth, perhaps
the best thing that didn’t happen was the fearful
moment of being pinned into a conversation into why
I’m not married.
Genesis 2:24 reads, “Therefore a man shall leave
his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and
they shall become one flesh.” Not to be sacrilegious,
but Brandon 1:2 states that “Therefore Brandon is OK
with being a confirmed bachelor who, after two failed
engagements, is pretty content with his life.”
Marriage isn’t for everyone. While I know that finding
“The One” is a blessing that we should thank God
for, there are some of us who feel that marriage is a
process of where a circle is trying to fit into a square
hole. It is indeed a wonderful feeling that supposed
to give us warm fuzzies and make our heart skip a
beat, yet let’s give props to those of us who have had
Magic Johnson-like court vision to realize that’s not a
shot worth taking.
Don’t get me wrong here: I love to see happy couples.
I will get to see one on Tuesday when we celebrate
the 19th anniversary of my sister and brotherin-law,
Keishia and Otis Gatson. They are a gem of a
couple of have defined what becoming one flesh is all
about. Through good and bad, they have remained
more bonded than Gorilla Glue stuck on your fingers
(let me tell you, that is not an experience you want
to endure). They have raised three young men who
each have bright futures while instilling a firm spiritual
foundation upon them while also showing them the
value of family and love of your fellow man.
Happy couples make me happy. Heck, I still have
good relationships with the two women who came to
their senses at the last minute and saw that being
a high school/college football widow from August to
February wasn’t their idea of happily ever after. Not
Mrs. Brandon C. Williams II did get married and is
happily basking in the glow of being Mrs. Martha Burrows.
Props to him for pulling in what I wasn’t able to.
(My inability of “pulling it in” might come as a disappointment
to the guys who once played sandlot football
with me at a time when there was a consensus
that I had the best hands available. Speed? Nah, but
target me and there was a 9 in 10 chance I’m catching
it. For letting Pirtle and Roosevelt
Streets down, I ask forgiveness).
Relationships was one of the final
subjects my mother and I talked about
before she went to be with the Lord (and
my dad, who was probably the first to
greet her) on March 10. About a couple
of weeks before she passed away, we
talked about relationships in her hospital
room on a rainy February Sunday
afternoon. For the first time, she didn’t
buy into my theory of why being single
during college football season was a
plus. Instead, we finally reached a serious
moment.
“All kidding aside, you have so much
to offer someone,” she said. “You’re a
good man who should go out and find
someone to share life with. You don’t
have to be alone, so be willing to give a
try. I know you can do it.”
Before departing the room for the
night, I did promise I’d try.
I just didn’t say when. 😉
What fascinates me is talking to couples
and asking the question of “how did
you know he/she was The One?” Each
answer is a different blend of amazing
stories and joyful smiles by the storytellers.
From lightbulb moments on a late
night in California to a relentless pursuit to an actual
“Love at First Sight,” every tale leads to Happily Ever
After Freeway, a drive that constantly drives straight
without any pit stops.
A college friend of mine told me, “you just know it
when it happens.” Does it feel like the Eagles winning
the Super Bowl or me sticking a long range jumper
to defeat one of my nephews on NBA 2K19? Does
it provide the glow that comes from a much-needed
cortisone shot in my left shoulder (trust me, two rotator
cuff surgeries on a shoulder that slips out doesn’t
feel fun on a rainy day)?
Eh, who knows. Maybe it happens. Maybe it doesn’t.
In the meantime, I’ll ponder on trying. Somehow, I
think I’ll need some luck…