Courting . .

A young fellow sees her for the first time.  And all time after that is unalterably changed . . .

After a month or so, the young man makes a quiet visit to the young lady's Dad. No fanfare, no one knows but the two of them. The young man tells him that he has had the opportunity, through circumstances that brought the two of them together that neither had specifically sought, to spend time around his daughter. At first, he'd say, she caught his eye, but now she was continually intruding into his thoughts, even when he's busy with other things. He'd look into her father's eye and say that he would like his permission to spend time with her. 

He'd explain that it wasn't dating he was after; he'd tell him that dating usually meant opportunity for temptation, foolish spending, and attempts to create false impressions. Instead, he'd like to spend time at her home, or if they were away, in the presence of mutual friends, and always in public places, and always with a particular time they were to be home, and always no later.

He'd offer to answer any questions that might be asked of him, things like where he worked, what his plans where.

With the girl, he'd usually allow the natural course of events to bring them together, because he'd know that this is how life was going to work anyway, if they were to spend it together. In the first months, he wouldn't be seen too often – perhaps once a week, rarely twice. He knows that too much too soon is presumptive, that it takes away the mystery and replaces it with familiarity, and he knows that familiarity spoils if it is allowed to grow too quickly. He doesn't deny her the chance to ignore him, for only in so doing will either of them know if she will miss him. When he is at her home, he seeks the company not only of her, but of her parents. He never touches her, and he never says things with a wink in an attempt to say something to her that he wouldn't say openly in front of them.

If she begins to display the faint musings of longing to see him, he will plan circumstances when he will show up completely by surprise, but they will be rare. If she's been wanting to see him, her eyes in the moment will be a dead giveaway – she won't be able to hide her delight in the first moment of recognition.

He'll be thoughtful, but not hovering. He'll find out her birthday, without asking her. He'll get a card the first time, but not a dozen roses, because he knows that she'll know it's a show. A rose – just one – will come every now and then, and when it does, there will be no fanfare on his part.

He'll pay her way, but if she insists it's her turn, he accepts without it being a big deal. He knows he's not doing her a favor, not being a big man, to allow her to display her individuality and independence.

Gifts will come along, but not often will they be expensive. They will represent his thinking about her, and the things he has come to know about her, for he understands the one thing that is important above all things to a women – she has no greater longing than to be known by the man who claims to love her. If there is never a moment when he anticipates what she hopes for, and especially in those moments when she doesn't even know herself, her heart will tell her that his motives are justifiably suspect. If he is never able to walk into a book store and be drawn to a small work that will find a tender spot in her heart, she needs to put away her desire, and wait for one who can – and will.

He doesn't depend on her for things she can do for him. That time may come later, but not while he is trying to win her heart. She needs to know that he doesn't need her. What she wants to know, instead, is that he wants her.

It takes some time before he tells her he loves her. Months, maybe. It's not that it should take that long for it to be true, but it should take a long time before he would expect her to believe what he hasn't already made plain. By the time he says it, if he has waited the appropriate time, she'll already know, and his saying so will be his offering that acknowledges her wisdom and understanding. If he gives her the impression that he thinks he is superior to her, he has proved his lack of worthiness.

His words, his deeds, his air, his bearing all tell her that he thinks of her as strong, but not hard; wise, but not arrogant; tender, but not weak. They both smile at the belief that, in the right moment, he really would lay his jacket over a puddle that lays in her way.

He will wait, not only for her, but for her parents. The looks her Mom and Dad exchange will, if he has shown himself worthy of their daughter's heart, begin to say “What are you waiting for?” The atmosphere between her and her mother will take on an almost conspiratorial air, with the occasional knowing look being traded between the two of them when they think he's not looking. But by this time, he doesn't need to look – he can feel the air shift in the room when they do.

Now, he is something he's never been until this moment – frightened, for no good man doesn't doubt himself to some degree. But it won't stop him – he's committed to accepting the heart he was worked to win. And for this one last step, no one shares it but the two of them.  He asks for her hand, and if he gets his desire, she says, "Yes."