I Knew What He Was When I Let Him Pick Me Up

I don’t really know how to explain my actions. I’ve done it again. The opportunity was there and I took it. In my defense, it has been a while and sometimes mama needs a good old-fashioned snog. I’m not saying it justifies the following story, but at least it makes it a little more understandable…I hope.

Anyway, the story begins about a month ago. A couple of friends invited me to go to Pizza Hut one evening where they were meeting a couple of guy friends and, despite the fact that I was feeling particularly not cute that day, I decided to go. That, in and of itself, was not a bad decision. What happened at Pizza Hut might have been. When we first arrived, the guys were not there yet and we had a good bit of girl talk about boys and marriage and so on, as you do. When the guys arrived, the conversation continued, though without the marriage talk. Little did I know that the information divulged that night would come back to bite me (though not literally; he was very gentle.) During the conversation, it was revealed that I like a bit of the non-committal make out and am not averse to kissing a guy without actually dating him and then never seeing him again. Well apparently one of the guys there, Crocodile Dundee Too (he’s Australian, which has added to my list of nationalities kissed while living in England that aren’t English), liked what he heard. We spent a fairly flirty hour or so discussing our philosophies of love and snogging. At the end of the evening, I felt pretty proud of myself that I rejected his offer to walk me to my door, knowing full well what he meant by that. I may be a lip-whore, but I’m not that easy. I can honestly say that I have never kissed a guy the first time I met him. That may not really be anything to be proud of, but I’ve got to work with what I’ve got here.

So fast-forward a month to last week. I decided I wanted to throw a Thanksgiving party at my house because you can never have too much Thanksgiving. I invited loads of friends, but only a few were able to make it. To my surprise, one of those friends invited Crocodile Dundee Too and another one of the Pizza Hut crew. I didn’t mind, or think another thing about it because we had only met the one time and hadn’t had any interaction since then. Well, apparently, CD2 remembered our conversation from that evening and felt duty bound to provide his NCMO services. (I actually have no idea what his thought processes were, but suffice it to say, he didn’t come for the turkey.) This was made abundantly clear from the moment he crossed the threshold of our flat. I gave everyone a hug as they entered and he took the opportunity to nuzzle my neck. So that’s how it’s going to be, I thought. At that point, I hadn’t yet decided what I was going to do, but we all know I don’t have a lot of will power, so you can probably guess it didn’t take long for me to decide that the evening would mostly likely end in a snog, though I couldn’t let him know that.

Although dinner was ready when they arrived, we were still waiting for another couple of friends and it gave CD2 an opportunity to lay it on thick. I really don’t know where he gets off thinking he can behave that way, but I did nothing but reinforce it. He took every available chance to have his arms around my waist or his whiskery face as close to mine as possible. I rebuffed him gently a couple of times, but without destroying the possibility that I was open to a little action. I just thought he should have to work for it a bit. After about an hour of flirtatious, innuendo-laden banter and quite a bit of not-so-innuendo laden physical contact, my other friends arrived and we settled down to eat. Luckily he kept himself in check while we ate and limited himself to sneaky hand grazes and more publically appropriate behavior.

After dinner, we all sat around and chatted for a while before dessert and it was lovely. Then the dishwasher finished its cycle so I went to the kitchen to get out the dessert dishes and begin cleaning up. Unbeknownst to me, this was the signal Crocodile Dundee Too had been waiting for. He followed me to the kitchen, which by the way is mere feet from the living room and without a separate door, on the pretense of helping me with the clearing up. There was some publically-inappropriate interaction for a few minutes while we unloaded the dishwasher and then I allowed him to turn me around to face him and he went for it; right there, in the kitchen, within hearing distance of the rest of my guests. Now, say what you will about me, but I tend to prefer my displays of affection to be less of the public variety, but I was caught up in the moment. I tricked myself into believing that the rest of the people sitting only a few feet away had no idea what was going on. (I was dead wrong, by the way.) So we kissed for a little bit and it was good and I remembered why I like kissing so much. This time I think it was partly to do with the feeling of reckless abandon and partly because, for all his arrogance, Crocodile Dundee Too can flat out kiss a girl. From what I can only imagine has been LOADS of practice, he knew just what to do and how to do it for maximum effect, and I liked it. We kissed for a little while and then finished with the dishes and then kissed some more at which point he invited me to come spend the rest of the evening with him ‘watching films.’ I decided that was probably not a good idea and put him off for the moment by serving dessert. He brought up the plan again in front of everyone and I dodged it by lying that I had to be back for Sunday and without a car, there was just no way it was possible. After my rejection, he seemed a bit put out and pouted a bit in an effort, I suppose, to make me change my mind. I didn’t. Eventually, it was time to leave and I walked them out. Crocodile Dundee Too had apparently sufficiently recovered to muster a prolonged good-bye make out in the stairwell, complete with hands in the hair and whiskery neck nuzzles, and then he was gone without reference to any future together, which is just the way I like it.

I apologize to all of you gentle readers for the new security measures. Apparently there was a security breach. I was speaking to a friend who is familiar with the content and subject matter of this blog. She mentioned that I needed to either make the blog private or shut it down. When I asked why, she said that people had heard about it and that I might improve my chances if I was a bit more careful. I pressed for more details, but she had promised not to say anything. She did mention that people had heard about it and were embarrassed. I couldn't bear the thought of some people about whom I've written getting access to what I've wrote. So until this all goes away, we'll have to do it this way.

One Less to Worry About

Oh brother. I’m completely hopeless when if comes to this game of love. I went to the monthly dance in Reading last week to see all my old friends. It was great and I had a lovely time catching up with a bunch of my peeps. I spent most of the time hanging out in the foyer chatting. I loved it. At one point, I was chatting with a group of friends when I was introduced to a new young man. He was nice, but seemed quite young. I didn’t think anything about it, but ended up chatting with him again later in the evening after the dance ended. I thought he was kind of cute and was impressed with his friendliness. But, I’ve met loads of guys at dances and nothing has ever come of it. That’s the only reason I can give to justify what happened next. We were just getting ready to leave and he asked for my phone number. It caught me so off guard that I couldn’t think of anything to do other than give it to him. I had to give him credit for being so bold. Most boys just don’t do that here.

I was excited until I told my friends on the way home. And found out a bit more about him. I had never met him before, but unfortunately for people here, the Church is pretty small and the grapevine is alive and well. If you ever do anything wrong, everyone knows about it and you never live it down. This poor kid is a prime example. Once I told them what his name was, they began spilling the dirt on him. Apparently he was so obsessed with a girl a while back that she had to get a restraining order against him. Yikes. Also, according to reports, he had a huge meltdown at Church one Sunday and was swearing and angry and someone had to remove him from the building. Double yikes. Now what do I do? He’s texted me a couple of time and requested my friendship on facebook. I feel guilty, but I really don’t think I want to take that on. I just wonder why I always get the crazy ones. Why can’t the guys I like ask for my number? I’ve spent my entire life attracting the guys I don’t want and apparently repelling the ones I do. Bleh. My friend Amanda used to say that every failed blind date was just eliminating one more person from the list of possibles. I guess, we'll chalk this one up to another one of those.

You Snooze, You Lose

This is, unfortunately, not a happy update. Crocodile Dundee and I are, apparently, in a holding pattern. I haven’t heard from him in quite a while. We have spoken since my last post, though we did have a good textersation a couple of weeks ago. I was pretty excited about it, since it was totally unexpected and of his own accord. He texted me one morning to inform me that the US was losing badly to the Australian team in the rugby world cup. When Australia won, he mentioned that he would have to come out to High Wycombe to redeem his prize. I pretended I had no idea what he was talking about and he reminded me that I had bet him dinner that Australia would lose. It was a good, flirty conversation.

The problem is that nothing has happened since then. He told me he was going to the States to visit his brother, but I don’t remember when or for how long. I guess I should cut him some slack, but really, I’m losing interest…fast. In retrospect, I probably should have let him know that I’m the type of girl who needs to have sustained contact to maintain interest. I tend to be sort of an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ type girl. If we ever go out again, maybe I’ll need to tell him that.

In other news, I have a new crush. He’s in our new ward and when I saw him our first Sunday, I was immediately attracted to him. He had on a pretty flash suit and he looked good. We didn’t actually speak and I had no idea who he was, but did catch him checking me out. I gave him a dazzling smile and that was the extent of our interaction at that point. I didn’t see him the next Sunday and was disappointed not to get the chance to figure out who he was. Then, Monday, I went to FHE and I was overjoyed to discover that my crush was the son of the Relief Society President at whose house we were having FHE. He came in a bit late and, I’m fairly certain, was equally happy to see me.

Over the course of the evening, we got a chance to flirt a little and I worked my magic. We played a game and it quickly became an excuse for me to flirt unashamedly with him by shooting him coy glances and sassy smirks. It was fabulous. I won and he jokingly threw his cards and stormed out of the room. Man, I always go for the cocky ones. That night also revealed the hotness of a tattoo on the inside of his right forearm. I love it. I haven’t seen it up close yet, but there’s something about a bad boy that I just love and I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m hot. Last week at FHE, he made a special effort to acknowledge me when we got there and I caught him looking at me a couple of times. He refused to play the game this week and I gave him a good bit of teasing about that. Then today at Church, we arrived at the same time and walked in together. He held the doors for me and was quite solicitous. I ended up conducting the music and caught him making eyes at me from the congregation. Afterward, I saw him in the hall and he asked how I was doing. I answered as I walked past and should have stopped to chat, but chickened out. Hopefully tomorrow’s FHE will see renewed flirting and perhaps a chance to actually get to know each other a bit. No matter what happens, it’s always fun to have someone to look pretty for on Sundays.

To Kiss or Not To Kiss

Croc and I have sorted things out. After his ridiculousness of last week, I decided that I could put in a little more effort and actually initiate a conversation or two. I texted him on Sunday and we had a nice textersation. It was flirty and banter-y and at the end he told me he’d call me this week and we’d figure out a time to get together again. I would have preferred to actually speak on the phone, but he was waiting for his brother to skype. I’ll give him a pass this time.

So, we spoke last night and it was good. I felt comfortable and flirtatious and excited to be speaking to him again. I had begun to wonder if I wanted him to ask me out again just to have a second date with someone, but after speaking to him last night, I determined that I do actually have some interest. He seems keen on getting to know me better as well, so that’s good news.

Anyway, as we spoke he told me he wants to come take me out again, but isn’t sure when. I, somewhat more boldly than intended, volunteered the information that if he wanted to come on a Friday, he was welcome to stay over on the couch! What?!?!?! Although Robyn and I had discussed it and she’s fine with it, I barely know the guy. Surely the invitation is a bit premature. He was surprised, but I assured him that Robyn was fine with it as long as he stayed on the couch and I stayed in my room. Then he joked about sneaking into my room in the middle of the night and I told him Robyn would probably skin him alive.

All this talk got me to thinking more about kissing him. Now, those of you who know me even just a little, know that I have a tendency to kiss boys after having known them for only a short time, hours even on occasion. I realize this isn’t necessarily the best way to begin a real relationship, but I really like kissing and I don’t really know how to not kiss someone when they want to kiss me. I’ve never rejected a kiss. I’m not that kind of girl; I’m just a girl who can’t say ‘no’. So my dilemma is whether or not to let ole Crocodile Dundee kiss me the next time we go out, assuming that he tries. And if I decide not to kiss him, how do I do it without hurting his feelings while simultaneously letting him know that it’s just ‘no’ for now, not ‘no’ forever? If I do resist the temptation, how long should I continue resisting? Is a week long enough?

Let the Drama Begin.

Crocodile Dundee and I have had our first disastrous miscommunication. When we last left our story, he had said that perhaps he could come out to Reading on Saturday. I wasn’t terribly certain that he would, but I thought at least I would hear from him. Wednesday came and went. Thursday came and went. FRIDAY came and went. Not a word was texted. I wasn’t entirely sure what to think. I figured he had decided to go to the concert on Friday that he had previously mentioned. I knew he was coming to the fireside on Saturday so I figured we’d have a chance to chat then.

So after the fireside (at which I looked smokin' hot,) I saw him and, perhaps foolishly, assumed he would come talk to me. I busied myself chatting with a few friends so that it didn’t look like I was just waiting around for him. It ended up taking me ages to make it out of the chapel and in to the cultural hall, and by the time I did, I couldn’t see him anywhere. I was disappointed in his lack of effort and my unwillingness to make the effort myself. But really, it is his job.

On the way home, I sent him a text saying that I had thought I’d seen him and was sorry we hadn’t had a chance to chat. I didn’t hear back from him, though, which I thought was a little weird. He usually answers straight back. I chalked it up to the fact that it had gotten quite late.

Today, on the way home from Church, I got a text. It started a conversation that has me a bit concerned. I’ve decided that in order to do the story justice, I will need to include the texts in their entirety.

Crocodile Dundee: J yeah good job on the flute man! You were awesome! It was a great night, filled with the spirit! I had to leave straight after cause I came with friends who wanted to go! I hadn’t heard from you all week, so I assumed you were not interested in keeping in touch.

Me: (after thinking WTF!) Whatever. You were supposed to call me! I figured you ended up going to the concert.

Croc: Ha whatever! I’m serious! I thought you were not interested in me calling you as you seemed short and distant in your goodbye on Monday. Anyway, I was planning on going to the concert, until Friday when I blew all my cash on tickets to 5 concerts, lol. So how you been?

(Short and distant? Did he expect me to kiss him in the middle of Paddington Station? It’s not that I’m against kissing him, but I’d rather our first kiss not be in public for all to see. I don’t think that equals short and distant.)

Me: I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression. I actually had a really good time with you. I’m doing well. I’m moving tomorrow.

Croc: Ok cool, yeah I enjoyed it too! Well then I’ll have to come out there sometime soon! So the big move is tomorrow hey, glad you got it sorted! How far from Reading is it again?

Me: Yes. I would like you to come out. High Wycombe is about 40 minutes drive from reading. It has a direct train from London.

All I have to say is that it’s a good thing I’m so forgiving, because, seriously, how ridiculous. I had understood that he was going to let me know if he wanted to come out before the fireside. He had texted me on the train home about coming out and I had responded, I think enthusiastically, that I would like him to. I guess he forgot. Anyway, I’m a bit annoyed, but hopefully we’ll be able to talk it through next time we see each other. Bleh. We can’t have both of us being completely insecure. That’s my job.

The First Date

Here’s the story you’ve all been waiting for. Before you get too excited, we haven’t kissed yet. It’s only a matter of time. Don’t worry. I predict that sometime in the very near future, you will be reading all about it.

But before we get too far ahead of ourselves, I need to tell you about our first date. The original plan had been for him to take the train out here to Reading. I had grand plans for what we could do, but the plan changed. Crocodile Dundee texted me that the Notting Hill Carnival was on Monday. It sounded amazing and I love London anyway. It sounded like it could be a good first date. So I decided that we could do Reading any old time, but the carnival is only once a year. The plan was hatched, then, that I would go to London Monday morning and we’d go to the Carnival. I was pretty nervous to actually meet him, but also really excited. I was, possibly, overly concerned with what to wear, but let’s be honest, it was pretty important to look hot. Thanks to the advice of friends and family, I chose an outfit that I feel turned out to be a smashing success.

So I arrived at Paddington Station and nearly chickened out when I saw him. I was glad that I saw him before he saw me, so I had a chance to collect myself before speaking to him. He had told me what he was wearing so I could spot him. When I saw him, I was a bit taken aback. He had a long, bleach-blond ponytail. He was wearing a sky blue baseball cap, a green and yellow Australia rugby jersey, and motorcycle boots. Definitely different than what I’m used to. He also wore aviator style sunglasses and headphones. Anyway, he walked past me and I stopped him. He gave me a hug and I was okay with that. I felt very comfortable right away, which was good. He was very friendly and conversational. I found it easy to talk to him and he has an easy laugh. It didn’t take long for me to realize that we were going to have a good time together. Also, he was a perfect gentleman and paid me back for my train ticket. Well played, sir.

After purchasing a tube pass, we headed for Notting Hill. For those of you haven’t been there, it’s not quite like it is in the movie. Portobello Road runs through the area and is still known for selling anything and everything a chap can unload. It’s a quirky neighborhood and quite full of life. The Carnival is put on by the Caribbeans who live in the area. It has to be said, those people know how to party. I thought Mormons threw a good party, but we’ve got nothing on the Jamaicans. The streets were alive with the sounds of reggae, the smells of jerk chicken, and the sights of colorfully dressed people. We wandered the streets soaking in the sights and sounds. After a little perusing, we decided we couldn’t resist any longer and decided to get something to eat. We took our food and sat on the steps of some house and ate. It was nice to sit for a bit and have the chance to chat.

We finished eating and then decided to try to find the parade. It was like no other parade I’ve ever seen. My parade experience consists of the 24^th of July parade in Mapleton where each ward gets to do a float and the highlight is the riding mower club. This parade, however, had steel drum bands, busty women in sparkly costumes, and people madly dancing. We stood and watched the parade for a while and it was awesome. It was really the perfect thing to do for a first date. There was plenty to see and do just in case there was an awkward pause in the conversation, not that there was, but just in case. It was also loud enough that we had to get close to hear each other.

Eventually we decided to walk back to the tube station and head out. The streets were packed and so naturally, I had to hold onto his arm or put my hand on his back so I didn’t get left behind. I don’t think he minded. It was the perfect excuse to initiate a little bit of contact. We made it back to Paddington and decided to get a McFlurry while we waited for my train. It was nice to have a bit more time to just chat. We have a lot in common so it makes it easy to chat. Then came the awkward point at which we had to refer to another date without knowing if the other person wanted one. I bit the bullet and suggested that he come out this weekend and he said he’d like to. We left it that he’d let me know, but that he’d like to come. So now I’m waiting to hear from him. He’ll call. I’m sure of it. And I want him to. I had a good time and I feel like we’d have fun together. I don’t know that it’s a definite love match, but I’m willing to give it a shot.

The Moment We've All Been Waiting For

I’ve been waiting to write any more about Crocodile Dundee until there was something more to write about than just a text or two. When we last left our story, he had sent me a text saying that he wanted to come take me out sometime. I said he sure could, and then the waiting began. He called me that Friday, and we chatted for a little while. He had to get on the Tube so it cut our conversation a little short and we didn’t get around to actually setting up the date. He said he’d call me when he got home but then he didn’t. He sent a text apologizing for not calling. I was disappointed, but he explained himself enough that I gave him a break. He was heading to a music festival that weekend so I knew I wouldn’t hear from him until later. I sent him a text the next day wishing him a good time at the festival.

I heard back from him on Monday, but only via text message. (For someone who said he doesn’t like electronic communication, he hasn’t actually called very much.) We traded a couple of messages and I was pleased that there was at least some communication. After Monday, I thought I’d hear from him soon so we’d be able to set up the date. I waited and waited and waited. When I hadn’t heard from him by Thursday, I figured we wouldn’t be going out this weekend. It is a truth universally acknowledged that it’s Wednesday for Friday and Thursday for Saturday. The problem is that I’m moving soon and next weekend is impossible. There’s a big YSA thing here and I couldn’t have that be the first time I met him. So I was getting worried that it just wasn’t going to happen.

By Friday, I was really concerned that he had just changed his mind or something and didn’t actually want to go out with me anymore. I’m such a weirdo sometimes. I know it’s ridiculous, but I always start to second-guess myself. I had convinced myself that I would text him Saturday and just see what was going on. I was so relieved then on Friday afternoon when he texted me. Bless him. He passed the test. We texted back and forth for a while and then (drum roll, please) he asked if he could come out and see me on Monday. It’s a holiday so he doesn’t have to work, and I don’t have anything to do, so it’s perfect. Finally! We made it. Now I can stop worrying about when he’s going to ask me out and start worrying about what to wear. Yikes.

Pluck of the Irish

The other day, my good friend and I went to dinner and got chatted up by an old, drunk guy. He had about three teeth and reeked of alcohol. Every time he went out to smoke, he insisted on starting a conversation. He asked where I was from and when I told him I was from the States, he said he was glad I wasn’t Australian. I guess he’s had bad luck with them.

As I was reflecting on the fact that I somehow seem able to attract old men, but not young ones, I remembered an experience I’d had in Ireland with my mom and dad. When my parents came, we each decided on one thing we had to do while we were in Ireland. My mom wanted to so to a cathedral, dad wanted a proper roast dinner, and I wanted to get chatted up by an Irishman. I realized it was going to be a tough sell, since I had my mom and dad with me. I’ve found that’s generally a pretty big deterrent when it comes to being chatted up. Unfortunately, through most of the trip, it held true. Not a single cute Irish guy even tried. I’m pretty sure there were loads that wanted to, but we’ll never know. Then, the last night, we decided to go out for some proper Irish music. The place we chose had a restaurant with proper tables and such, along with a proper bar with stools. The restaurant section was full of tourists so we went to the bar section where there were a few stools available. The bar had a doorway through which we could see the stage area where the performers were sitting. There weren’t enough stools for the three of us, so I stood near the doorway. As I was standing there, I could feel that someone was watching me. I couldn’t figure out who it was because there were only old people there. I chanced a glance toward the bar and met the eye of a man who I came to find out was the most delusional man I’ve ever met.

Let me paint you a picture of this man. He had to be fifty-something. He was wearing wellies with his jeans tucked in. He had paired that with a blazer and a flat cap. If I’m honest, he was kind of good-looking. Anyway, I could tell he was looking at me, but I did my best not to encourage it, because really there was nothing that was going to come of it. As the evening progressed, I got the feeling that he was going to come talk to me. I told my mom that if she weren’t standing there right next to me, he’d be chatting me up. She didn’t believe me. To be fair, mom and I haven’t ever been to a bar or club together, so she’s not really familiar with the way things work out there. She thought that because he was an old man, he wouldn’t give it a shot.

So imagine her surprise when later that evening, he did indeed give it a shot. I had moved back to the doorway and mom and dad were hanging back against the wall. It took him about five seconds to make his move. He came over and struck up a conversation. His breath reeked of cigarettes and alcohol and he had horrible teeth, but there was actually something quite charming about him. We chatted a bit about the music and then he wanted to know why I was in Ireland. I was a little bit uncomfortable flirting with my parents standing there watching it all, but it was kind of funny. We were just in the middle of chatting casually when he asked me if I was going clubbing that night. Of all the questions I never would have expected, that probably topped the list. I couldn’t believe he was actually serious. And just what would have happened if I had said I was? Could he seriously be considering coming with me or something? Was he insane? Luckily, I had the excuse of having to leave in the morning. Dodged a bullet there. Then he looked at me and said in his lovely Irish accent, “You’re a gorgeous woman.” I was of course flattered and pretty gutted that my parents were there. Who knows what could have happened if they hadn’t been.

A Bit More Thunder and Maybe Even a Spark?

Wow, I know I’ve only just introduced Crocodile Dundee, but things need to be updated. First of all, I finally responded to his message and told him that as a reward for his patience he could have my phone number. That was a bold move for me because it meant that he actually might call me. That was a week ago. He texted me that very evening and we had a nice text-ersation. I was totally twittery and glad that it wasn’t in person. I do find that it’s sometimes easier to be flirty when you can take the time to craft a perfect message. After a few texts, he asked if he could call me sometime. I totally wanted him to, but I wasn’t sure how to say yes without seeming too keen. So I didn’t answer that text for a little bit. He sent another one apologizing for being so forward and explaining that he prefers actual interaction to texts and emails. I feel exactly the same, but couldn’t be too eager. I replied that he could call me sometime and he told me to let him know when. I thought that was a little weird. How does one casually inform someone that it is now acceptable for them to call? I decided to give it a few days. I really intended to text him the next day and have him call me, but truth be told, I was a little nervous. What if he decided he didn’t like me after talking to me for a few minutes? I know it’s silly, but there it is.

The next day, with the help and encouragement of several friends, I screwed up the courage to text him. I let him know that I’d be around that evening if he wanted to give me a call. I then spent the next few hours nervously awaiting my fate. He finally called and it was great right from the beginning. I found him to be quite charming, though some of that might be his accent. I liked him right away, which I’m sure had something to do with the fact that he thought I was funny. That counts for a lot in my book. We talked for nearly an hour without even one awkward pause. I still felt like we had loads to talk about and it was easy and fun and casual and flirty without being silly. It was great. At the end, he asked if he could call me again sometime and suggested coming to see me. I was pretty excited. This just doesn’t happen to me very often.

I spent the next few days anxiously awaiting his next move. I was a little worried when I hadn’t heard from him after three days. I was characteristically nervous that he had decided he didn’t want to get to know me anymore. I tried to be patient with him, but I’m a classic over thinker. So imagine my elation on Tuesday when he texted me again. He said he’d like to come pay me a visit and take me out sometime. I said that would be fine with me so he said he’d call me this week and we’d figure out a time when we could get together. This boy is wasting no time. I like a man who isn’t afraid to go for it. It’s not even been a week since our first conversation and he’s already asking me out. I’m enjoying the attention, and I have to admit, it’s quite nice to be pursued. He’s definitely winning brownie points with me. I’m trying not to get ahead of myself, but I’m excited. I don’t know where this train is going, but I’m going to enjoy the ride!

A Bit of Thunder from Down Under

A few months ago, in a moment of weakness and self-pity, I let my friends convince me to join LDS linkup. It’s not so much a dating website as it is a networking site. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. Anyway, I’ve had some pretty interesting people send me messages. And by interesting, I mean, really weird. I decided not to respond to any of them because then they might think I actually wanted to know them, which I didn’t. It’s one thing to be on the site; it’s quite another to actually participate. So I read the messages sent to me from crazy people around the world and laughed it off. I’m not going to lie; it is quite flattering to get so much attention, for the most part. Sometimes, though, it was not. I often thought about responding to some with a mere, “Really?!?!?!” but I thought it would be rude. It does take a lot of guts to make the move.

Despite my best efforts to avoid getting involved with anyone, I fell victim to a very persistent guy we’ll call Crocodile Dundee. He had sent me a message a couple of months ago, but I didn’t respond. I thought that was the end of it, but I got another message a month or so later. He said he was disappointed that I hadn’t responded to his first message, but that he was going to try again. I was flattered so I decided to give him a chance. I figured it was the least I could do. He did try twice. And I actually knew who he was. That was part of why I resisted at first. I’ve noticed him at a couple of events and thought he was strangely attractive. The first time I saw him, he had his long hair in a ponytail. I caught his eye a couple of times, but avoided actually speaking to him. I was mostly afraid that I’d like him. He’s the type of guy I’m always attracted to, but probably shouldn’t be. That’s really why I never responded. I was afraid I’d actually really fancy him. But as we all know, I’m dangerous when I convince myself that I have nothing to lose. SO that’s what I did. I decided to go for it. I responded to his message and told him I was glad that he had tried again. That opened a sort of correspondence. We traded messages a couple of times and I was pretty excited. He was quite keen to make contact and passed each test I've set. I made him work for it, though. I played it cool and made him wait for my responses. To his credit, he stuck it out. He has actively pursued and I like it. I've done what I think is a pretty reasonable job of playing just hard enough to get. I was pretty proud of myself. I’ve been a little out of practice on my flirting, but I’ve done all right this time. I told him that it would all be worth the wait. Time will tell if that is, in fact, true.

I know, I know

I think I might like Tweed again. I know. It comes and goes. There are a lot of reasons why I don’t think it would work, but then there are some reasons why I think it would. We’ve been spending quite a bit of time together lately and I’m sure that’s part of it. I’m the type of person who needs to be with someone in order to like them. So the more time I spend with someone, the more I like them. Anyway, it’s been coming on slowly. We went to see “The King’s Speech” together and it was really fun. He asked and paid, so I’m counting it. That means we’ve been on like four dates. I do enjoy his company and he’s really intelligent so we always have something to talk about. I catch him looking at me quite a bit and we often exchange glances and little smiles. He challenges me as well, which I think is important. We don’t always agree, though we respect each other’s opinions, and I feel like we’re equals in many ways. Sometimes when he looks at me, my stomach flips. I was over there for dinner this past Sunday and when I left, he gave me a nice long hug. He’s given me hugs before, but they’ve always been a little bit awkward. It wasn’t like that on Sunday though. It was a good hug.

God's Gift to Women?

A couple of weeks ago our ward had a temple trip. It was a beautiful spring day and I was grateful of the chance to spend it on the temple grounds. After coming out of the temple, it was time for our picnic. I was walking over to say hello to some of our friends when a young man stopped me. I thought he was perhaps a friend or relative of someone in the ward so I said hello. I guess in retrospect I shouldn’t have. I realized quite quickly that he wasn’t from around here. His English was not very good, so I’ll only really be able to give the gist of what he said. He asked in very broken English where I was from. He then told me he was from Slovakia (I think. Could have been Slovenia. Something along those lines.) He then asked me if I was a YSA. At this point, I was not entirely sure how to get away. I could tell things were going down a path that I didn’t want them to, but felt powerless to stop them. When I answered that I was indeed young, single, and adult, he said he was too. Then things really took a turn for the uncomfortable. He asked me if I would like to date him. Not just go on A date, but actually date each other, with the intent of marriage. I was so taken aback by his boldness, that I didn’t know exactly what to say. He then said, “Only if you’re comfortable.” As if I could be comfortable with that proposition. I decided that the easiest thing to do was pretend I was okay with it and then just give him the wrong information. I guess I should have just said that I was uncomfortable with the idea, but that made me uncomfortable too. I did draw the line at actually giving him my phone number. I gave him my email address and suggested that maybe we could just get to know each other a bit better that way. Then he gave me his name as Elder. I can only imagine that he considered his returned missionary status as enough to make him the dream come true for any available woman. It wasn’t enough for me, however. After we had exchanged email addresses, he left. It was quick as that, but left me quite perplexed. I had never been approached with such boldness. It was flattering, but a little discomforting. Luckily, nothing else has come of it and I think I’ve escaped the awkwardness of actually having to reject the date. I’m pretty sure I dodged a bullet there.

Te Quiero

Oh man, I just can’t resist any longer. After yesterday, I’m just going to have to tell you all about this guy, El Guapo. He is yummy. He’s sort of more ruggedly handsome and there’s a little something twinkling in his eye that makes him quite attractive. I first noticed him almost a year ago when he started coming to Institute. The first week, he had on a bright yellow polo shirt with the collar popped. So hoooot. I had no idea who he was and it took me a couple of weeks to find out. Imagine my dismay when I discovered that the reason I hadn’t seen him around before was because he was on his mission in Spain. Yep, he’s a mere babe. That’s part of why I’ve tried to ignore my attraction to him. But I just can’t help it. I am finally admitting that I have a crush on him. This comes after he spoke in our ward a couple of weeks ago and it was really good, and he looked really hot, and I caught him looking at me a couple of times. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Here’s a little backstory.

He seemed cocky and a bit full of himself at first so naturally, I was attracted, since I’m unaccountably a sucker for that sort of behavior. He came to things, but rarely talked to anyone. He would make the rare comment in Institute, but none of my friends seemed to be friends with him, so I had no way of getting in there. Then on the fateful Guy Fawkes Night at Maverick’s house where I first met the other stupid American girl, I got my first chance to really see El Guapo in his element. When we arrived in Oxford, some of us wanted to get something to eat. I thought we were just going to pop to a shop and grab some snacks, but we ended up at a kebab shop. I was perfectly fine with it since it gave me some one on one time with him. He was hilarious. He has this little smirk on his face most of the time and his delivery is sharp. He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it’s worth the wait. Needless to say, I enjoyed dinner very much. When we finished eating, I discovered that besides being witty, he’s also a gentleman. He paid for my meal and earned himself some huge brownie points. After dinner we went back to Maverick’s house and I was officially smitten. That was clear back in November, but it was the first time I really started to think perhaps there was something there.

Anyway, since then we’ve been casual friends and said our occasional hello at activities and such, but I’ve had a hard time figuring out ways to hang out outside of Church stuff. I’ve sort of tried to convince myself that he’s too young, not clever enough, too much of a lad, and so on and so on. It’s also partly that I’m shy around him. I find him so attractive that I can hardly flirt with him. I know it’s silly, but somehow I find it easier to be flirty with boys that I don’t actually like. And I think El Guapo is ‘too cool’ for me so it makes me feel a little intimidated. I think though, that he is actually more shy than he is ‘cool.’ He doesn’t talk to anyone, really, so it’s not just me. And while he doesn’t say much, when he does speak, he usually has something good to say. I’ve been impressed a lot of the comments he makes at Institute and as I’ve gotten to know him better, I’ve realized that he is clever and he does have a good testimony. So now, I have to like him even more.

I saw him at Institute last night and I said hello. He seemed keen to continue the conversation so we chatted a bit. Then I needed to say hello to someone and had to squeeze past him. I made sure to leave my hand on his shoulder as I walked by. Then I of course I had to do it again on the way back. I think it was a good decision because when he left, he made sure to say goodbye. Though I’m still a little unsure of how to get more time with him, I think the effort I’ve put in is beginning to pay off.

Still Waiting for Mr. Right

I know it’s been a while since I’ve been on a date and maybe things have changed since then, but last I checked a person isn’t supposed to abandon their date for the balance of the evening. If that’s how things are trending these days, then maybe I’m not so sad that I don’t date much. By way of explanation, last Tuesday one of my friends, G.I. Joe, texted me to see if I was working. I wasn’t and he informed me that he wasn’t either and asked if I wanted to join him on an adventure to Portsmouth. As I wasn’t otherwise occupied, I agreed. He told me that he had some things to do in Portsmouth and we’d get home around 11. I figured we’d be getting dinner and wandering around town. It took us about two hours to get there and we had a comfortable conversation on the way there. We went to the base in Portsmouth so G.I. Joe could get his combat medals mounted. We had to go get me a visitor’s pass and the army guy in charge was hoooot. Since we weren’t going to be there long, he just let us go. I would have happily stayed there with him, but oh well. After that, G.I. Joe decided we should go to the waterfront, so we drove down to the ‘beach’ for a ‘picnic.’ Since it was windy and drizzly, we sat in the car and G.I. Joe made me a wrap of sorts. It consisted of a tortilla with some guacamole and slices of Edam cheese. It was not good, but I ate it like a good little girl. After ‘dinner,’ we got out of the car and walked along the beach that was made up of rather large rocks, which was fine with me because it prevented any sand from getting in my shoes. We walked far enough that we came across a little restaurant. G.I. Joe asked if I wanted to grab a hot chocolate and I figured it was the least he could do after the disgusting dinner he’d made. So we went in and they sat us at a table overlooking the sea. It was lovely. We each ordered a hot chocolate and then he said I could get something else if I wanted. I wasn’t entirely sure what the protocol was so I followed his lead and got an ice cream sundae. The hot chocolate was huge and the ice cream wasn’t that good.

At this point the adventure took a strange turn. G.I. Joe had to go to some sort of Army training thing. He hadn’t mentioned to me before we left that I wouldn’t be allowed to join him. So I volunteered to just hang out at a shopping center we had passed earlier. It had a cinema so I thought maybe I’d just go watch a film. G.I. Joe told me he’d be done around 8, though, so since he dropped me off at about 6:45, I decided I didn’t have time to watch a whole film. I walked around the shops until they closed and then went to the cinema to pretend that I was waiting for someone, which I guess I was. After sitting there for about half an hour, I decided to go walk around outside a little more so I didn’t look too pathetic. I even bought myself some fries at Burger King to pass the time. Totally, not worth the calories. At around 8, I texted G.I. Joe to let him know that I had decided against seeing a film and was ready when he was. I didn’t hear back from him until about 8:30 at which point he told me he was running late and would be leaving soon. I went back into the cinema where there was at least somewhere to sit while I waited. I’m pretty sure the employees felt sorry for me for getting stood up. Well, 9 o’clock came and went without a sign of G.I. Joe and I was beginning to regret my decision not to see a film. Luckily, there were trailers playing on a big screen on the wall, though after seeing them all ten times, the thrill diminished. Finally at 9:30, G.I. Joe called to say he’d be there in ten minutes. Perhaps needless to say, after waiting an additional hour and a half, that was music to my ears. The ride home was enjoyable and I do enjoy his company, though if he ever invites me to anything again, I’m taking a book.

It's a Small World After All

I went to Cardiff last weekend for a Young Single Adult Convention, really just a glorified youth conference for old people. My super good friend Jess lives there and she was in charge, so I decided this was as good a time as any to see what all the fuss was about. As you might imagine, there were guys galore and girls trying to impress them with their stupidity and general vacuousness. I met one who I would say wins, but I digress. The first night, there was a dance. It was not just any dance, it was a UV dance. We dressed in white and painted our faces with paint that glowed in the black light. I know! So exciting! There was lots of meeting new people and such. At one point, I was chatting with a kid I’d met before when one of his friends came over. When I saw him, I thought he was pretty cute. Then he started talking and his accent gave him away as a Scotsman. He said in a pretty creepy way, “I know you.” I was pretty sure he didn’t, seeing as he’s Scottish and I’m American. He tried to convince me that he had met me somewhere and I continued to protest that it was impossible. As the conversation proceeded, he asked me if I’d ever been to France. I, of course, said yes and then a look came over him. He then asked me if I’d been to Church in a certain ward in Paris in April and if I’d gone back to a certain member’s house for dinner. I said yes and then the Scotsman got embarrassed and made some excuse and left. The dance continued and then I ended up seeing him again at the end. If I’m honest, I wanted to flirt with him a bit, so I decided to ask him what he knew about what happened at that particular member’s home after dinner. He was embarrassed again and said that there were ‘reports.’ I played coy and pretended not to know what he was talking about. He said, when he and his companion arrived at said member’s house later that evening, the little brother ran out and said that his brother had “made out with the American girl.” He also told me he couldn’t actually believe that it had happened. I assured him that it had indeed happened, despite the Cheetah’s general sliminess. I felt slightly ashamed of my actions, but was able to justify myself by mentioning the fact that it was my birthday and I was in Paris. He accepted my excuse and I felt completely vindicated when I saw him sneak out of a room the next night with some random girl and a pretty guilty look on his face. Guess the world of the Church is a bit too small for me. From here on out, I’m sticking to non-members.

If only...

Okay, I know I’ve been shirking my duties of late. Things have been busy, but that’s not really a good excuse for missing out some great stories. First of all, I meant to write about this long ago. It was one of those moments I wish I could have back, mostly because I wish I could have done things differently. I always think of what I should have done after the fact, but next time I’ll do better. Anyway, here’s the story. When I went home at the end of September, I had to be to the airport pretty early in the morning. Luckily, though, I had taken the time to curl my hair, because, as everyone is aware, you just never know. I was also wearing my hot, green cardigan that makes my eyes look amazing. Well, when I got to the airport, there was a super long line and I was hoping it wasn’t the line I needed. I decided to ask and it just so happened that the last person in line was a super cute British guy listening to his i-Pod. He told me it was indeed the check-in line for Delta. Then he did something truly amazing. He put his i-Pod away. I know. That, my friends, is the sign of true interest. Once we started conversing, I discovered that he was not only handsome, but also funny, smart, and thoughtful. He had studied in Boston and actually even enjoyed American football. He was a dream come true. While I had originally been upset that the line had been so long, as we continued to chat, I was grateful for it. I began to wish that the line was even longer. He told me about how much he liked America and how lived in London now. As we got closer to the front of the line, one of the workers asked us if we were together. I wanted to say ‘yes’ but held it together. I wanted so much to give him my number, but was just waiting for the chance to say something clever that would convince him to ask for it himself. Unfortunately, just at that moment, the Delta officials asked for anyone going to New York. Even more unfortunately, cute British guy was going to New York. That meant that he was taken to the front of the line before we had a chance to finish our conversation, which I’m sure would have ended with him getting my number. And it meant that I lost my chance to ever see him again.

Highway to the Danger Zone?

So, there’s this guy. I’ve been meaning to write about him for ages, but am somehow just getting around to it. So here’s the story. Every fall with the cooling of the air comes the heating up of the anticipation of new guys moving in. This year was no different, except that this time my anticipation was rewarded with Maverick, a tall, handsome, Air Force Academy graduate who has come to Oxford to study for his Master’s degree. He is spectacular. I met him at Institute one day and was immediately smitten. I heard him say one thing in his American accent and set my sights on him. I chatted with him for a few minutes after institute and got to see up close just how attractive he is. He’s got perfectly white teeth, and lovely strong arms. I didn’t see him again until he came to one of the Reading dances. He was terribly awkward, but so handsome that I was able to overlook his lack of dancing skill. We had the chance to chat outside in the foyer for a few minutes and found him to be interesting as well as handsome. He’s getting his Master’s in African studies and is just plain fantastic. After that night, the full on obsession began. I found him on facebook and looked through all of his pictures. We even googled him and found out some pretty interesting things about him. He graduated number one in his class and got a scholarship to study at Oxford. So besides being extremely good looking, he’s also very clever. To add to the attraction is the fact that even though he has every reason to be cocky, he’s very humble.

Well, the plans then revolved around how to see him again. They started holding Institute in Oxford so he and the other Oxford-ians have stopped coming to our class, which meant that Maverick sightings diminished. So the deception began. Luckily I do have friends in Oxford so I was able to finagle a few outings to Oxford. Unfortunately, they didn’t always go that well. I was quite disappointed in our first adventure there. We went up for Guy Fawkes Day, which is just an excuse to burn things and shoot off fireworks. When we got to Maverick’s house it was pouring rain so the fireworks things wasn’t particularly interesting. Also, there was this girl there. She almost immediately made it clear that we were not to get any ideas about Maverick. It was apparent that she had made a claim and was not entirely pleased with other girls being there. She monopolized every conversation with her not-so-subtle attempts to make herself look fantastic. I immediately disliked her and her transparent friendliness. I was sure that Maverick wouldn’t fall to her womanly charms so I maintained hope.

The plan that followed was to have our Oxford friends over dinner, excluding ‘the other girl.’ The plan went great except that none of the guys we invited came. We ended up having a really lovely time and some interesting details were revealed. The other girl’s roommate was one of our dinner guests and gave me a little insight into how things were going up there. She informed me that I should perhaps take my sights off Maverick. She said Maverick and the other girl spent a lot of time together, at night, at his apartment. I was shocked. I thought everyone else was similarly disgusted by her, so imagine my surprise when I found out that the other girl and Maverick were snogging. I know! How horrible!?!?! I immediately lost a little respect for him. How could he not see that she was vacuous, insecure, and fake like the rest of us did? Anyway, I decided to concede Maverick to her. If that was the kind of girl he was interested in, then he clearly would never give me a second look. So I pretty much gave up on him. Of course I still talked to him when I got the chance, but I decided he wasn’t worth my time.

I ended up spending Thanksgiving up there and learned a lot more about Maverick and the other girl’s relationship. Apparently their relationship consisted of snogging only and not actual dating. As much as the other girl wanted them to be boyfriend and girlfriend, Maverick wasn’t into it. I actually felt a little bit sorry for her, having been the delusional girl who thinks that a kiss is equivalent to interest. I also realized that maybe Maverick did realize that she was vacuous and fake, but couldn’t resist the prospect of a pretty girl who was willing to snog. Having also been that person, I decided to cut him a break. We’ve all been there. Sometime you just have to snog a bit. Well, since I’ve been back from Christmas, one of my friends from Oxford told me to get in there. She informed me that Maverick is ‘single.’ Since they were never actually dating, I don’t know how they could break up, but I’ll take it. Anyway, she told me that Maverick is trying to spend less time with the other girl, as he has realized that she’s not for him. I still haven’t decided where this leaves me, but I’d probably snog him, so we'll see what happens.