Friday, October 12, 2012

Sleeping Beauty

My sophomore year, like most Provo girls that experience the great missionary migration, I was down for any date I could get. When a coworker asked if I was interest in a blind date with her newly returned missionary she knew, I was down like a frown. She warned me that he was "fun-size" but a really good kid.

When he called later that week, conversation came easily and I started to really look forward to meeting him. It seemed great because he had actually PLANNED something. Called me AHEAD of time, and hadn't mentioned his mission ONCE! Winner!

             No. Not a winner. 

When I opened the door that Friday night, we were eye level. Not a big deal, but it's no fun when all future hopes of tip-toe kisses die before you even say hi. 

He opens the door and we head out, and again conversation was easy! He even makes me laugh a couple of times which is not the easiest thing to do. We meet up with the friend that set us up and her date and sit down for dinner. After introductions, I get up to use the lady's room. As I turn the corner, I hear my date ask my coworker, "What's her name again?"

           Yes. He forgot my name.

My pride was shattered. (I might have "accidentally" stepped on his toes when I came back.)

But the rest of dinner was nothing special. It was obvious to me that this was going to be a first/last date for us. We parted ways with the other couple for our activity. His roommates had claimed the apartment TV that night so he grabbed a projector and set up a little drive in movie for us near Vivian Park.

He brought a good movie which I had already seen. It wasn't long until I had nodded off.

Keep in mind that:
          a) We had just met
          b) He forgot my name not 2 hours before
          c) We are not cuddling for holding hands

So when I woke up to his hot, spit covered lips on mine, TRUST me-- I was not a happy camper. I was so shocked, I just pulled away and said, "Excuse me, but I'm sleeping."  (Really biting remarks never come when you need them.)

Anyway, the rest of the night was pretty awkward. He dropped me off without getting out of the car. We both said "sorry" instead of "goodbye". It was the last I saw of him, but at least I know I'm Sleeping Beauty!

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

I would like to give a shout out to my good friend Rayo for creating my heading for this blog. She has inspiring creativity and photography.  Check out her blog here, and see what she's all about. :) THANK YOU!!!


What are the worst sort of dates?

That question has an easy answer. Blind dates.

I have learned to say "NO" when your old Young Women's leader asks if her nephew can ask you out because he "just got off of his mission and needs to be more social." You didn't know that before his mission he wasn't social. That calls for one awkward night, let me tell you. 

My parents met on a blind date, so I can't discriminate against them all because they do work sometimes. And sometimes your friends really do know the sort of people you are into. But 89.99% of the blind dates I have been on are ones that I prefer not to remember. 

Except for this one. Because it's just too great of a story not to tell. 

I was set up with a Utah-foreigner on a crisp October night. He got me from my apartment and opened my car door. Very gentlemanly. When we got in the car, he told me that we were playing a game. The game was Per-diddle. You know, when you see a burnt out head light or run a yellow light you hit the ceiling of the car yelling "PER DIDDLE" before the other person in the car? Yes. That game. He also mentioned that whoever wins at the end of the night gets to give the other person whatever they want.

                                                           **Remember Per-diddle**

Innocent flirting, right? Well, that's what innocent me thought.

           He won. Of course, he won.

After our group activity, we headed back to my house to watch a movie. I have a living room with two large couches. There were 4 couples, two on each couch. We sat on the couch with his special  blanket that he brought from all the way from his out-of-state home. (That has no relevance to the story, it was just weird because we were at my house with a plethora of blankets). I wondered (like every girl does) if he would make a move. I was sort of indifferent if he did or not. The date this far had been fun, but I probably would never see him again. I sat with my hand in clear view if he was daring enough to make the first move and grab it. 

He wasn't. 

I could see him glancing at my hand a lot-- but no moves. Instead he said, "Are you good at hand massages? It just hurts so bad right here and here," pointing to his hand and forearm.

I did an internal 'eye roll', and thought "Did he really just say that to me? He really just used that line on me to hold my hand, didn't he?"  Apparently, some people still use those lines. I thought that had ended when I graduated high school. 

Deciding to play along with his games and told him I was alright at them, and proceeded to rub. It didn't take too long for him to just hold my hand.... Shoulda done that in the first place, dude. 

OK... so we continue to sit there, in a room full of other couples, watching a movie, holding hands. He turns to me again and says,

"Guess what I just remembered?"


"I won Per-Diddle. You know what that means?"  (I told you to remember Per-Diddle.)

I knew exactly that that meant. I owed him something. But I played stupid, just to see where this was going (bad idea on my part).

           "No, what does it mean?" I asked.

"You owe me something." 

           "Well, what do you want?" (also a bad idea on my part to say this)

"I'll think about it and let you know."

I racked my brain, wondering what he would as for, but I figured it was a first date and I'd most likely never see him again so not too much damage could be done.

I was innocently watching the movie when he turned to me and said,

          "I know what I want now. But I can't tell you, I have to show you."

Before I had ANY time to think about what was said, in one fell swoop he planted a nice juicy one on me. There were about 10 things screaming in my head at this moment such as--
     1. We are in a room with 6 other people, how can they not be seeing this right now?
     2. What if my parents walk in?
     3. Why the freak is he kissing me? I have known him less than 24 hours.
     4. I think I am kissing a dead fish. Why is he not moving?
     5. I did NOT see that coming. How did I not see that coming?
     6. I had no time to even turn my head.
     7. Why is he still trying to kiss me? His lips are not moving.
     8. I guess I'll make the best of this situation.
     9. This is the worst.
    10. This is also the definition of classy kissing. NOT. No brownie points for you, dude.

Finally after a few seconds, I couldn't take it anymore so I pulled away. It was a little hard to do because I couldn't pull backwards. You see, my head was already in the couch and that just didn't work. But somehow, my friends, I was able to get out.  I sat there in shock wondering what had just happened. He sat back with a sly smile on his face.

After about 15 more minutes of the movie he pipes in again and says,

           "I just can't take it anymore."

"What, all of the people dying in the movie?"  (Lots of people died, okay?)

He then laughs, and swoops in for ANOTHER kiss! ANOTHER ONE! I was again, in shock thinking there was no way this kid is trying to kiss me again. I pulled away, again. Hoping and praying he wouldn't try again.

Oh, but this guy was a go-getter. 

A bit later, he kissed me again and I quickly pulled away the third time. They say third times a charm, but there was nothing charming about the third time. Or the second. Or the first.

I quickly learned this guy did not care we were in a room of people, or that this was our first date and he'd never see me again. I learned that the evenings 'events' had all been pre-planned, and that he was a smooth-talker.

After leaving my house that night (with no goodbye kisses, thank the heavens) he sent me cheesy texts about how great he thought I was, and I told him how un-classy and un-gentlemanly I thought he was.

Don't worry, everyone. He got the picture that I did not appreciate his actions. 
Loud and Clear. 

To top this story off, I later found out from his good friend that every trip to Utah he makes, he plans on getting the Wasatch Special.

That was the first and last time I'd ever be anyone's Wasatch Special.