So, a lot of relationships have started out in less than perfect weather conditions....Right?
So. This one time, this one night, not so long ago this winter a cute guy from one of my classes at school asked me out. We shall nickname him Brutus.
I was actually really excited for this date. I had just stepped out of a rather messy relationship and was surprised at how happy I was to be spending time with Brutus. He was able to make me laugh when inside I felt like crying over what had just happened to my heart. He was also pretty clever, almost as clever as me, and he could make me blush like a Catholic school girl. Brutus seemed to have it all, a winning smile, a winning sense of humor, and- gasp- some intellectual sparring capability that helped me brush the rust off of my own master skills.
He asked me on the date and even told me I should get dressed up, because he liked doing things formal sometimes. Aw. Adorable. Of course my girlish nature can never resist a dress-up date. And Brutus did not disappoint. He showed up to my house on time, dressed in a lovely shirt and tie that gave him a sort of James Bond Esque edge. My insides definitely turned to butter. He looked amazing. I had high hopes for this date.
We ran out to his truck and he opened my door, as I climbed in I caught the soft scent of his cologne, and let me just say...yum. So far. SO good.
We started on our happy way, the promise of a romantic, wonderful evening drifted in the air along with the soft, snow flurries that had just started to fall. I remember thinking, "Gosh, snow flurries can be so romantic."
Yes they can.
When they remain soft, gentle flurries.
About seven minutes into an interesting, yet flirtatious conversation I glanced at his dashboard and nervously noticed his tank looked like it was riding on empty. Knowing how protective men are of their macho-ness, I didn't want to point this out to him. And just as that thought landed in my brain, his truck started to chug, hiccup, and finally...stop.
His adorable face grew bright red as he slid a penitent look my way, "um, we are out of gas."
Yes. I know.
I just nodded and smiled. He rammed a hand through is hair, deep in thought.
"I can go get some," he said to me.
"Okay," Now, somewhere in this conversation my memory is blurry...I can't quite remember who's idea it was that I tag along for the quest of gas, but somehow I ended up out of the truck.
I actually thought it was all pretty funny, and was laughing. But then as we rounded the block the flurries turned to mammoth flurries and the wind picked up. Before I knew it I was completely soaked from head to toe, running through sloshy-slish-slish puddles with Brutus, searching madly for a gas station.
It seemed the closest one was still blocks away, and let me tell you, in the middle of Antarctica falling from the sky, a block looks a bit like a marathon. But being the good natured girl that I am I continued running, and laughing, and smiling.
And really. It was fun. For the most part.
We decided to skip the nice, fancy restaurant due to the fact that I resembled a drowned kitten after out adventure, but after my body defrosted and my nose melted from a soft pink to its natural color I actually found the situation QUITE amusing.
I still had a great time on the date. And actually, one date...of mishap and adventure...turned into many dates. So I guess its okay to run out of gas. Sometimes. :-)
Single Mormon Girl, signing out.
