I’m an unapologetic church whore. I move from place to place like a merchant trading her goods. It’s the place to find good husbands, good friends, new clients. I seem to focus so much on the search for the good that I never become good myself. I was never supposed to wander into my current church, but I did so by accident, and I stayed out of curiosity. It was a family church. They had a vibrant youth ministry for teenagers, but beyond that there was nothing more. There was no singles fellowship, all the people in their twenties were newlyweds. As a 26-year-old unmarried female, I stood out like a sore thumb. They say curiosity killed the cat, but in my case, it wasted my time.
He was the first person to shake my hand upon arriving in church on my first day, sweet smile, strong hands, muscles visibly ripping out of his polo shirt and a tiny tattoo of the cross on the underside of his right wrist. He was, at least, six feet tall, dark skin, 75% cocoa solids and a teeny weeny Afro. Brown eyes, standard, a nicely trimmed beard, and a chiseled jaw that would make any girl swoon. I soon noticed that he was an usher, a minister, a youth leader and a drummer, he knew everything about the church and everyone in the church knew him.
I never wanted to be married to a minister; pastors always seem to have a secretive life behind the pulpit, and I was not ready for that. I’d only recently broken up with a prayer pastor, and let me tell you that his Holiness did not extend to the bedroom. But this guy knew a different kind of Jesus, and every time I saw him smile in my direction I knew I had to stay. So I kept going back to his church, and then I volunteered in the youth ministry, I needed to get noticed fast. I began to learn things about him as I hung around, none of these things attracted me, but I stayed regardless. His name was Damilola, strike one; I hate unisex names on men. He was planning to go into full-time ministry, strike two, I already said I’m no Pastor’s wife, I’ve been around a bit too much for that. He was saving his first kiss for marriage and wanted a girl who had done the same. Strike three, curiosity had prevented me from waiting for anything worthwhile in life. (more…)