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.