Monday, May 16, 2011

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.


  1. Wow. Seriously, that is nowhere close to how it all went down. In light of this gross misrepresentation of the facts that you have offered, I feel compelled to reveal the truth of what actually happened, including the ease and charm with which I handled the situation. In fact, it was I that first noticed we were low on gas, and it was I who first said something about it. I also feel obliged to mention that the truck in question didn’t even belong to me. It was my brother’s. Consequently, I remained unaware of its semi-retarded fuel gauge until it was too late. In my truck, there is still fuel in the tank until the needle is well below the Empty line. But that’s not important.

    It’s probably unfair of me to expect everyone else to possess the same brilliant mind and flawless memory that God has seen fit to bestow upon me, but it’s clear that you took more than a few creative liberties in describing my reaction to the incident. There was no uncomfortable brow furrowing, or statements of the obvious on my part. As I recall, I laughed good-naturedly as the truck sputtered to the side of the road, while unleashing a slew of witticisms so potent that it completely nullified any of the awkwardness that you’ve implied. If I did run my fingers through my hair, it was in a very GQ way. My sense of humor and grace under pressure must have left you reeling in some kind of delirium that affected your memory.

    I should note your appropriate use of descriptors here, such as: clever, winning smile, amazing, adorable (not sure how I feel about that one), James Bond-esque, etc. It’s clear that you are still insecure about my superior mental faculties and sparring ability, but I’m used to that. You did fail to mention that it was I that was laughing though most of our jaunt in the sleet, and you were crying about being cold, even though it was your decision to come along. I should have known that you were too delicate to be able to handle the mission, and made sure you stayed safe in the car.

    I think the greatest mistake I made on this date was in taking some bad advice that resulted in our choking down some exceptionally disgusting Thai food, but nobody’s perfect.

    In short, when you try to make fun of someone, it’s best to tell the truth. And don’t call them by their dog’s name, even if it’s an awesome one like Brutus. :)

  2. Wow. Seldom do I get the chance, no privilege, to have a counter comment to one of my stories. *Rubbing hands together in pure glee*

    Dear, Dear Brutus. It is my liberty to nick-name the potential suitors that ask me out any name I deem fit. Usually the nick-name comes from the first word that pops into my mind when I think of said suitor. For you-- its Brutus. :-) And maybe it has nothing to do with your dog...

    I would like to note that most responsible people check the gas in their vehicles before hitting the road, this is especially prudent if you are driving someone's car that is not your own. Being superior in mind, I have stowed this little trick away in my stack of 'common sense'.

    I feel obligated to note here that this was only the FIRST time you have run out of gas with me in the car. But we don't need to go into that time on the freeway on Easter Sunday...

    I think we both know that I am not the 'delicate' sort to feel inferior in any way, if anything my ability to make mention of your 'adorable' qualities only points out to what a secure, strong, and independent individual I am.

    I know you found me hard to resist in your Santa hat, and its okay that you find it hard to put into exact words exactly how I made you feel that night :-)

    But I WILL give you kudos for being a gentlemen and ending our tale at the end of the interesting dinner we both choked down.