The tale of running out of gas and the big bad blizzard...

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.

heavy breathing can be a symptom of many things...mainly awkwardness.

'Harvey' was a normal, nice, somewhat cute boy who asked me out awhile ago. I was excited to go out with Harvey, because at the time, I had been on a bit of a 'date drought' and Harvey had the potential of being totally hot if he wore the right outfit. We were going to dinner and a movie. Harvey came to pick me up and immediately eased me into easy conversation with his soft around the edges sarcasm and charm. When we were talking, we were on cloud nine. I found myself moving from just sort of excited to be on this date to really excited. We ate dinner at Chile's and laughed over the weird way I drink from my straw. Everything was lining up unusually well.

But on the way to the movie we drifted into silence. Which wouldn't have been too bad except for what happened next.

Harvey looked over at me and was breathing like he'd just run up ten flights of stairs. I was a little freaked out, because honestly I couldn't tell if he was choking on a piece of dinner or trying in some weird, offhanded way to seduce me. I guessed he wasn't choking when he reached out and touched my wrist. Ever the one to casually slip out of the classic 'car-hand-grab-and-hold' I hugged my arms to my waist and smiled. Not totally shutting him down. We were having fun. But I don't hold hands on the first date unless there are extenuating circumstances.

Harvey was not one of them.

I politely shifted my gaze out the window. "Thank so much for dinner."

"Anytime." Long. Deep. Breath.

I forced myself to look at him and to my horror his breathing had only increased. When I say he was breathing heavy...I cannot stress just HOW heavy. It was awkward and a half. I smiled again, relieved when we pulled into the parking lot of the movie theater.

My relief was short lived.

Harvey continued breathing heavy. The rest of the night. Through out the whole movie. And he kept trying to reach for my hand, even when I placed them neatly between my legs. Um, hint to all men out there...if a woman places her hands between her legs that is most likely a sign she does NOT want you to reach there and grab hold.

The entire car ride home I tried to carry on convesation, but Harvey seemed to lose all of his convesation skills. All he seemed to want to do was breathe. Hard and heavy. And look at me.

I don't know HOW this guy managed to go from cool to creepy. But he certianly did.

Note: Heavy breathing is totally acceptable a. after a swim, b. while working out, c. when someone is super excited or surprised, d. if you are the chesty actress in a horror film, and d....during other adult activities that I cannot mention. But please refrain from all such breaths if you are on a first date. Its just...weird.

I say no to...stalkers...

This story I shall write in letter form.


Dear guy with the almost-mullet who sat next to me at the computer lab today--

When you sit next to a girl at a computer lab it is probably a wise idea to not keep looking at her computer screen. Yes. I know my facebook is probably funnier than yours, but I promise we both have the same layout. Our friends and social networks vary (obviously, because I have never once seen your almost-mullet hairstyle in any one of my friends pictures) but my facebook is not meant for you to be constantly reading over my shoulder. Also, when you dropped a Doritos crumb on my skirt and then wiped it off--that was too high on ANY girls leg before you have even introduced yourself. And then when you introduced yourself after...and said you liked my status update...did it not occur to you that I might think its creepy you were looking THAT closely at my status update?
I may have laughed off all of these awkward moments, except that you could not leave well enough alone--you just had to ask for my number all the while blowing Doritos breath in my face. I actually did not give you my number. But I was kind enough to tell you a white lie, which was that I was kinda seeing someone. Oops. I am sorry, but I didn't want to crush the rest of your...er...Doritos?

Anyways, for future reference..."I'll show you mine if you show me yours" lines rarely work on a girl. Especially when you're talking about facebook.

Sincerely
The girl you spilled Doritos on

muscle men

I need a heart to heart, so bare with me. This post is not a story about any particular man...but a group of them in general. Can I please express myself to the good looking, muscle pumping, power-aid addicted men in Utah? Where are your brains? Why do you walk around like panthers on the prowl, stalk until you almost have us...and then forget to... er...pounce?

I see a growing trend. Guys with too-white of teeth thinking they are God's gift to the population. Well guess what. God GAVE you those teeth. And the technology to bleach them until they shine like Jupiter's moons. I'm just saying, your teeth and somewhat ripped arms are NOT enough to hook me. I know you spend too much time at the gym checking yourself out, I see you doing it...but no matter how often you look in the reflection I promise you...I will never look back, snap fingers and say, "Shoot, how come I didn't notice that cute guy who always stares at HIMSELF?"

Gahhhh!! And please, please...expand your brain cells just a little bit. Even if you are reading Twilight (which I will not express personal feelings on THAT soapbox right now) you are reading. And I would love a guy who actually reads. That might be enough to hook me. That and a little bit of wit.

Wit. So much better than swagger.

Back to the pouncing issue. All the steroids in the world wont muster the courage up inside of you to actually properly ASK me out. You just have to do it...if you want to. Stop using crutch phrases such as "lets hang," and "play." Yes, we can hang and play. After you have nicely asked me out.

I know this is terrible of me. I may regret posting this. But lets face it...mostly girls read these posts anyway. To you men who don't spend all your free time staring at your beautiful reflections and lazering your teeth until they are almost cartoon white...I applaud you. There ARE good men out there. I have dated and known them. Cultured men. Sweet men. Sincere men.

I just had a moment at the gym tonight where I felt like I was at a club rather than a work out facility as a cluster of the before mentioned genre of men came up and made conversation. As they stared at themselves and compared bicep sizes.

I know there are great, amazing, intelligent men out there. So don't you worry....this soap box will probably be deleted in 48 hours.

much love.

That's Funny....you're Funny...

I shall call this guy Shades. Because he was cool from the moment I meant him. He had that swagger that makes girls weak at the knees, the just fit enough T-shirt that made me appreciate his casual sense for style, and a smile that turned my cheeks pink. Shades was definitely someone I was excited to go out with.
I didn't know Shades all that well, except for his magnanimous attractiveness. But I figured a guy with swagger like that couldn't be entirely a waste of a date.
He picked me up in a car that smelled like shampoo and was bouncing with tunes I loved. So far so good.
"How was your day?" He asked me.
"Great...I went shopping with my sister."
"HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAAHA" I wish I could describe the maniacal, horsy laugh he burst into. Suffice to say, it took me by surprise.
"What's so funny?" I asked, when he was done gasping for breath between laughs.
"That's funny...you're funny!" he said, like he couldn't imagine a girl who was blond with style could be funny. But what was worse...was that I hadn't said anything funny. He had yet to taste of my sharp wit and humor and he was bursting at the seams.
Awkward.
I brushed it aside though.
"So what did you do today?" I asked him, my knees still mushy when he slid his grin my direction.
"Slept."
"All day?"
"All," he said. "It was awesome."
"Yeah, I love sleep," I added. And I do love sleep. Its just..sleep doesn't make for great conversation. And so far Shades was proving to be a floater. All toppings and no filler if ya know what I mean.
"So what do you do when you're not sleeping?" I asked, "When you're at school?" I'd seen him at school, he had to have half a brain...right?
"I play guitar hero alot."
"Awesome, that's fun--"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAA." Again, he gasps, wipes his face. "That is FUNNY, you are FUNNY!"
Erm...was he joking? I swear I was on camera or something...
But no.
We made it to dinner. I picked my way through our conversation the way a rabbit picks through a radish. I wasn't too impressed by his blank stare and constant use of words like "LOLZ, right?" and "Totally," and my favorite..." HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA...that's funny. You're FUNNY."
Grrr. I know I'm funny. But you didn't really get a chance to see that did you? Shades, it turns out, was no swagger, no style, and...not alot of fun. But I think I'll text him whenever I need to be reminded that...I'm funny.

3 days to Engaged? nuh uh

So once upon a time I was 18. I know. Hard to believe? Because maturity just seeps out of my wise soul? haha.
And when I was 18 it was Time to move into the singles ward. You know...the infamous ward where you step foot and NEVER return? Well, I was secretly terrified of that ward. I was terrified of being among 'adults' and not fitting in. Of being the new girl. But mostly...I was terrified of the men. That's right. The RM's to be specific. I was terrified they would find me and force me into marriage somehow and I WAS NOT ready.

Well. Nightmares do come true.

I had been attending this church group (for those who read this and are not LDS, wards are different congregations of meeting, and a singles ward is a place specifically for young adult singles who are LDS.) for about three months. It was summer. Romance was hot and steamy in the air. At least as hot as Mormon's get, right? And this guy who we shall call Freddy had latched onto me. Freddy was a cute, nice, passionate guy who prided himself on his intellect and spirituality. Well, my parents left out of town for a week and Freddy started coming over to my house.

Day one. Not so bad. We talked and hung out, made popcorn and he helped me bbsit. Harmlessly domestic.

Day two. We talk some more, he says he wants to take me on a date. Sure, I say. What harm can ONE date do?

Day three. He takes me on a date up the canyon. Yes...the canyon, which can either be hopelessly romantic or dreadfully creepy. At first it was hopelessly romantic. Until he pulled over and said, "I've been thinking alot about this. And I think we need to get married. God is telling me we should."

UMMMMM....RUN! RUN! RUN!!!! I mean, we had only known each other THREE days!!???

When I coyly recoiled into my seat, he asked. "What do you think about that?"

"I think I want to go home."

"About getting married?"

"I think I want to go home." I said. I was blatantly terrified. I had never kissed anyone at that point, and suddenly being helplessly alone in the mountains with some dude who wanted to make me his forever had me convulsing...not just fear. Revulsion. My worst nightmare had come true.

Eventually he drove me back. And eventually, I convinced him that no matter WHAT he said, I was not going to marry him.

Funniest part of the story? A month later I am working at a bridal shop. It was a quick two week stint I did. A girl comes in and I help her with a dress. Who walks in to pick her up? THE GUY! Freddy. They had just gotten engaged.

Wow. Someone just wanted to get married. So glad I didn't turn out to be just the face and body he took down the aisle.

An Affair To Remember

So. Most of the stories on this blog have been HORRIBLE, right? Well...my life isn't just ONE horror story after the other. I have had some amazing romances sprinkled in there. I figured it was time for one of those:

I was embarking on my first cruise. The Mexican Rivera Cruise, on the Sapphire Princess. I was nervous, but excited. The ship was huge and shiny, and the ocean scented the entire experience like a balmy, romantic perfume.
He was the first person I saw on the ship. Asst. Cruise Director, who we shall call Ax for personal reasons. He was tall, dark, tan, and had a luscious Aussie accent to top it off. He looked at my passport, his fingers skimmed mine as he allowed me entrance and his brown eyes swept me in. I knew something happened then. And I knew I would be seeing him again.

Two nights later, I did. Karaoke night. He was hosting, and he picked me out of the crowd. "And would this beautiful blond sing for us?"
Never one to be put on the spot I said, "If you will."
He laughed, and nodded. "Fine, fine."
So I sang. And he sang. And I figured that was that. It was his job to schmooze me, right?
When I stood to leave however, his voice came over the speakers. "Would someone stop that beautiful blond? You're not leaving yet, are ya love?"
Um. Nope. Not with that invitation. I sauntered over to the DJ booth and sat with him.
And we continued sitting. And talking. Looooong after everyone cleared out. He pulled out a piano and we sang and played music together, and talked for hours. In this conversation I came to find that it was forbidden for staff members to have 'relations' with passengers.
Shucks.
Well...forbidden never stopped Jack and Rose. And it didn't stop us. Pretty quickly we developed code, secret ways that we just had to see each other.
"Do you need to charge your ipod?" He would ask. Naturally that met meet me by my booth. And then we would duck off into secret cruise quarters and just...talk. NO...really.
Four nights into it he pulled me into the staff hotel and we giggled like sneaky teenagers as he grabbed his guitar from Barcelona and we then ducked onto the ship roof, and he played for me under a blanket of stars that made me feel like I was in a Whole New World with my very own Aladin.


Formal night I thought would be THE night. He would see me looking gorgeous and kiss me....regardless of the RULES.

Well...I had spent an entire day in the sun. And hadn't eaten or drank alot. As I made my grand entrance to his ballroom Ax was dj'ing, I felt slightly light headed. I attributed it to his intoxicating presence.

Nope.

Not his presence. It was too much sun.

I fainted.

That's right. I fainted at this guys feet. Literally.

So he turns all Cruise Director on me and calls the medics and I get WHEELCHAIRED off...not exactly what I had in mind.

The next night was our last, and I was so humiliated I avoided him all day. Well...the end of the day comes around and he asks me to stay with him when he cleans up his station. So I did...feeling silly after the other night.

He turns to me then, and and asks me to dance. We were the only ones in the room...the old French tune dipped me into another world. A world of old fashioned romances and affairs at sea and then....yep... he kisses me. Right there. Right in the middle of the ballroom. Right in the middle of the ship in the middle of the ocean in the middle of my heart.

And I left my heart at sea that day. Not regretting any part of my sea fairing romance.