Most often, the simplest and most difficult thing is to say to her, attached and betrothed to someone else, "We should be together." Save disjointing masculinity - "I'm a better man than he is" - and saccharine kitsch - "I need you." - for the unfortunate few who model life decisions after romantic comedies or melodrama. To be direct and concise and, most importantly, genuine is indeed most difficult. It requires of us a rather elusive, therefore precious, indefatigable sense of self. It's not sheer egotism or inflated self-worth. By sense of self, I mean a deep, terrifyingly honest understanding of ourselves - good, bad, and in between.
"We should be together." It can't be delivered like a pickup line or like a line of any sort. Heck, the words themselves become irrelevant upon being uttered. Standing before your beloved - or your supposed beloved - as she prepares for her wedding to another man, who by all incremental accounts - status, appearance, wealth, etc. - is leaps and bounds superior to yourself, it takes an unparalleled, almost otherworldly, courage to finally tell her the truth, consequences be damned. She may appreciate your honesty and let you down easy. She might freak out and call the authorities - cops or rent-a-cops. Or, your words and your deed may touch her profoundly. That even though she will be marrying a near perfect match, marrying into a wealthy respected family and, in the process, come precariously close to their immense fortune, she gives pause to look at your sad hopeful eyes - tearing with melancholic desire. She's touched. But she's conflicted.
"Why did you wait until now, until this day?" she asks through tears, her voice tightropes incredulity and elation.
"Because I almost forgot your birthday." You pull out a ring, a modest almost nondescript ring, and hand it to her. Not yet on bended knee, your eyes refuse to let go of hers.
"The first."
"The first."
You both smile. The organ begins the procession. But all is still, including ever ebullient eyes locked in timeless play. The organ stops, silence takes over, and the crowd clamours with anticipation for an unseen bride. The groom's nervous anticipation grows dark as a dreadful portent returns to mind.
A bridesmaid, searching for the bride, enters an empty room to find a veil laying stolidly on the floor.
"The first." Your lips touch in speechless conversation.
