This is a story about how following my visceral feelings benefitted me. And my favorite story to tell.
When I went off to college, I wasn’t looking for love. I had been dating my high school sweetheart for 3 years. When I went home for Thanksgiving, we got engaged. I wanted to get my degree and get outta there.
And then this tall, dark-haired, athletic guy moved in directly across the hall from me at the beginning of the 2nd quarter.
The day he moved in, I came home, probably after a shift at work ,and my roommate asked “Did you see the new guy?”
I was about to answer No, when a flash of a memory came to the front of my mind. Socks and Adidas sandals as I quickly rushed by going back to my dorm room, having forgot something.
Now, I was a pretty shy girl back during freshman year of college. I kept to myself, I didn’t go to parties. I went to class, went to work, did my homework and repeated it all over again.
But that day, I guess I was in a good mood or something. I got up, walked the 7 steps to the room across the hall and knocked on the doorframe since the door was open.
“Hi! I’m Denita! I just came to introduce myself since I live right across the hall.” (Never ask my husband for a rendition of this scene. He will make me sound like a cross between an enthusiastic telemarketer and a 5 year old.)
It was COMPLETELY out of character for me to just walk up to someone and introduce myself. Even people who lived 10 feet away from me. (Following my visceral feelings.)
And then. Then every crazy girl on our dorm floor fawned over him. One girl gave him a back massage, and then later when he was asked if he liked her, he said he didn’t. It gave me creep feelings.
AND I TOLD HIM SO. In a letter.
I actually wrote him a letter and sent it in the mail to tell him what a terrible person he was. I’m embarrassed about this fact now. My kids laugh every time it comes up— “You sent Dad hate mail!”
But the kids on our side of the 6th floor were a fairly close group of friends, so it was inevitable that we would hang out a bit. And we did.
I found myself in his dorm room one night, having a friendly argument about who-knows-what. We made some kind of flimsy bet and I called my dad to settle it. I talked to my dad. He talked to my dad. Then I talked to my dad again.
“You’re gonna marry that guy.”
“What? Ummm, no Dad. He’s just a friend.”
But when he said those words, I felt something in my body. It was a kind of piercing chill. (Visceral feeling.)
Don’t ask me how, but the relationship went from distant to neutral to friendly to interested.
A different time, maybe days, maybe weeks later, I was in his room again. We were just chilling and talking. Nothing too serious. Just friends hanging out. I said goodnight to him, and went back to my room.
My roommate was up working on some of her art even though it was fairly late.
“So… how was your evening?” she slowly asked.
“Ugh! I want to kiss him so bad!”
“Why don’t you do it? You only live once.” I can’t decide if she’s a terrible person for saying this or the wisest sage I’ve met.
It sparked something in me. “You know what? I’m going to!” (Following my visceral feeling.)
So I left my room again, and knocked on his closed door.
He opened the door, and before he could say anything I blurted out, “I decided I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t kiss you tonight.”
Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, swallow. He was eating an Oreo! And he had braces!!
“Hold on a sec” he said. “Let me go rinse my mouth out.” Or was it he said brush his teeth? The point is he left me in his dorm (I was alone, he didn’t have a roommate at the time) waiting for him to clear the Oreo goop so we could kiss.
Yeah. Awkward.
The moment had passed, so we sat there for another hour building up to a kiss with conversation.
We did kiss that night.
Years later he would remind me of a conversation we would have after the first kiss where I would nonchalantly say, “You’re the kind of guy I could marry.” And he felt like I had punched him in the gut. (Visceral feelings.)
Visceral feelings mean something. More than first impressions.
I would go on to move in with him and then marry him a few years later. And we’ve been happily married ever since. Almost twenty-five quick years.
Do you need help understanding how your intuition/gut feeling/spiritual promptings feel to you? Book a free call so I can help you!
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