My Love grew up on a ranch in our Rocky Mountain state.
She has an advanced degree in Pure Mathematics from an Ivy League university. She is a successful entrepreneur, having founded a firm that applies mathematical rigor to masses of data to advise clients on large-scale business decision. She is exceptionally analytic, logical and clear-headed.
My Love thought that she was straight. She dated men, and had affection for them, but never felt a spark.
Last year, she had an epiphany. She didn’t fight it. She examined herself – her ideals and memories and longings – thoroughly and skeptically. She accepted her epiphany with no discomfort. She has come out to her family. Although she makes no secret of her orientation, she is a private person.
She was an atheist. She found God not in the wind that rent the mountains and brake in pieces the rock, nor in the earthquake nor in the fire, but in the still small voice.
She is a reformed Protestant. She is an elder of her church. She is a student of Reformed theology. She is as well informed as any layman on the Biblical treatment of homosexuality.
She coined the term “metaphorical fundamentalist” (with apologies to Northrup Frye) and convinced me of its truth.
We are equals.
In May, 2015, she proposed marriage and I accepted. We married in August, 2016, at her family’s ranch.