What I Saw in Wyman (Before the Title of Us)
Dated Reflection: July 8, 2025
Memory Era: January–February 2019
Wyman was gentle and curious from the very beginning. He didn’t push. He wondered. He didn’t demand closeness. He invited it. That kind of approach showed a soft strength—a kind that’s often missed, but it’s what caught my attention.
I had a crush on him. I won’t lie. However, I tried to keep my distance because I had other things going on—school, stress, and life in foster care. I didn’t want distractions. I didn’t want to fall. But somehow, I didn’t feel like I was falling. I felt like I was being invited to rest for a moment.
He was my calmness to my storm, and I didn’t see it then. I was that way because of everything I’d been through. I began to soften around him, having grown accustomed to always being tough and always on guard. I felt like I had to prove the haters wrong, as if I had to take a stand.
Wyman made it feel better. Even after a hard day, coming to him in a message felt easy. Like the weight I was carrying suddenly had a softer place to land. I didn’t have to pretend. I didn’t have to explain everything. I could just be.
He was emotionally present from the start. His questions weren’t shallow. He asked things that showed he noticed me. And I wasn’t performative. I wasn’t trying to impress him. I was just trying to survive my days and hold onto my footing—and he still liked me for that.
I told him the truth when he asked things like, “Would you date someone like me?” I didn’t say yes. But I didn’t say no either. I said, "I don’t know." And I meant it with respect, not rejection. Because I needed space, and he gave that to me.
We joked, but we also listened to each other’s pain. He told me he punched trees in the woods. I didn’t laugh at him—I laughed with him. Because somehow, I understood what it meant to hurt and not know what to do with it.
I had dated other guys before, but they were flings. They didn’t stay. They didn’t care deeply. And honestly, I didn’t let them close enough to try. But with Wyman, it wasn’t about dating. It was about connection.
The timing wasn’t perfect. But the connection was.
We were two people gently circling something sacred, not even knowing what it was yet. But it was real. And that made all the difference.
The Deeper Why
Why did it mean so much, even before it became something romantic? Because I was in a season where I didn’t trust many people. I had been let down. Moved around. Hurt. I didn’t know how to let someone in—not fully. But I wanted to. I just didn’t think I was allowed to hope for that.
Wyman didn’t try to break down my walls. He just stood on the other side of them and spoke kindly. He gave me the space I didn’t even know I needed. And I responded—not with big gestures, but with tiny windows of truth. I told him when I was struggling. I admitted when I didn’t know how I felt. And instead of pulling away, he stayed steady.
There’s a kind of safety in someone who doesn’t flinch at your honesty. He didn’t make me feel like a burden. He didn’t try to fix me. He didn’t demand more than I could give.
And that made me want to give more. It made me want to open up. It made me feel seen.
The deeper truth is—I had already started trusting him before I knew I was doing it. Before I had the language to explain what was happening between us. He became a safe place, one message at a time.
So, when people ask how we began, it wasn’t a big moment, a date, or a kiss. It was the quiet way he waited. The gentleness in how he asked. The steadiness in how he stayed.
That’s the deeper why. That’s why it mattered.
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Consent Note: Wyman is mentioned in this piece with his full knowledge and consent.
My Dearest
My Husband
My Dom