The Phone Call

The other night, while I was eating dinner alone, my cell rang up with a private number. I said hello to no one. Several minutes later, the phone rang again.

This time, when I said "Hello," they said "Jeanne, this is Brandon."

Four years ago Brandon, who I met while attending church. How attractive he seemed standing up in front of the congregation, praising and singing to God. When his wife left him, every single-woman in the church formed a line to snatch him up. Except me.

I now know men love the chase and the challenge. He pursued me and I relented. So began my six months of giving. I should say me giving and Brandon taking. I never complained about helping with his two girls, fixing dinner for them, getting his house in order, and just being that support person.

My daughter Kellie thought I had lost my mind, taking on all those responsibilities — responsibilities I no longer had to deal with. But she also said that when I give, I give 100%.

Sexually, well that was a whole other issue. Each time we slept together, Brandon would put both of us through guilt-ridden drama about having sex without being married.

After one too many guilt trips coupled with not being appreciated, I came to my senses. Six months later — in front of the whole congregation — Brandon was on bended knee to ask another woman to marry him.

Now, four years later, he called to say how miserable he is, and that he made a mistake.

I had so much pleasure in telling him "finally, the grass is greener right where I am standing."