Man vs God

Nothing was ever supposed to come out of The Man and me. First, there was the gender gap, the generation gap and the hundreds; occasionally thousands of miles that separated us. But somehow... about five months into the relationship the first tentative expressions of our feelings were uttered. We were in love. And after about a year I had to face a very difficult decision. There were two things I wanted. Conversion and him. And I could only have one of them. He didn't see it- he told me it's all "smoke and mirrors"; that I should go ahead with my conversion and just tell them what they wanted to hear. 

But I knew better. I knew it wasn't them I was trying to convince- it was someone of far more superior authority; someone who could see into my heart and had the power to judge the commitment I had. So I made a very painful choice. I left him. And at the halfway interview with the rabbi I didn't need to lie. I was fully committed to the conversion and understood I could never marry someone who wasn't Jewish.

I was given the green light to continue. I should have felt more elated. Only...I didn't. I couldn't stop thinking of him. I kept having second thoughts. Then third. Then fourth. I didn't understand how continuing something my heart told me was right could feel so...wrong. Perhaps the man I had abandoned in the process was the right one after all? I knew it was my own fault. I had allowed him to get under my skin and now I couldn't get him out of there. 

I knew my conversion would never be approved; not with a long-term, committed relationship with a goy that never had any intention of converting. I also knew he didn't have much respect for any religion. Should we ever have a home together,  it would not be kosher. It would never be Shabbat observant. I'd be left alone to keep the fasts, celebrate the holidays and fight for my new identity. As a convert I'd only ever really be half a Jew, so  what would I be with someone who didn't know and respect the customs; with someone who wouldn't be there to support my growth into a tradition that I myself didn't know but felt was my own? 

So, eventually there was another, equally painful decision to be made. One I knew I'd be second guessing for the rest of my life, but nonetheless a plunge I knew I needed to take. I waved goodbye to the conversion and chose to ride off to the sunset with him. And as scary as it must have been for him to know he'd beaten God to the pole position... we survived. For many, happy, fulfilled years. Or...so I thought...