Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance.
Last Sunday, I was enjoying a family dinner at my aunt's home. Her house was simply teeming with rambunctious children and bickering adults, a setting which is familiar and dare I say, even comfortable. Being the youngest of my siblings and one of the youngest amongst my cousins, I am accustom to being the only single adults within any number of proximal miles. However, this particular Sunday dinner, as I stepped inside the house and was greeted with kisses on my cheek and embraces about my knees (from nephews), I noticed a pair of bespectacled eyes gazing at me from across the room which belonged to a friend of my cousin's. Apparently I was not the only single adult this night.
Although we were not immediately introduced, throughout the course of dinner, I would notice (and feel) Mr. Spectacles' eyes upon me. Mr. Spectacles is not an unattractive man, and yet I still could not decided whether I was flattered or just generally creeped out by his quiet but somewhat intense attention. After dinner, at an rare moment in the evening when I wasn't being wrestled by excitable moppets, Mr. Spectacles sought me out and began a conversation. The conversation wasn't bad, however, I was quick to notice how nervous he seemed around me and the slight awkwardness which emanated from his person. I was not surprised when Mr. Spectacles asked for a date, and since I did not find Mr. Spectacles creepy in a potential date rape sort of way, just in a general awkward way, I accepted his offer. I am one who firmly believes in giving others the benefit of the doubt, or at least an opportunity to prove me wrong. Which is sometimes less wise than it seems.
Eventually, Mr. Spectacles left and I too decided to take leave of my riotous family. I thanked my aunt for her hospitality and she hugged me, kissed my cheeks, and then held my face in her hands (while pinching my cheeks together into what must have been a very attractive expression), "Mr. Spectacles is such a good man!" she exclaimed. "I am just so excited for you! You know, I met and married your uncle when I was your age and he was Mr. Spectacles age. It's fate!" I blinked in wonderment at the marriage plot which had wriggled its way into my evening without my knowledge and fled from the place before my wedding colors were chosen.
Earlier this week, Mr. Spectacles picked me up for our date. Knowing that we were going to dinner, I had prepared myself to sit through a possibly very long evening. Naturally, I am a believer in one-hour maximum first dates, and so I was not feeling very optimistic, but I put on a brave face despite my reluctance. Conversation during dinner was much like Sunday night's. My forced smile and laughter, his bashful and somewhat uncomfortable discussion. After dinner he proposed that we go get ice cream. I theorized that Mr. Spectacles was trying to fatten me up so that if I needed to run away, there was no way I would be able to. "Do you mind if we share a blizzard?" he asked innocently. I didn't wish to demand that he spend twice as much just to quell my sometimes nonsensical fears of the flu, mononucleosis, or HIV, so I quietly nodded in agreement. Due to my hesitancy to share a cold cup of potentially life-threatening diseases with a near stranger, I took a few bites of the ice cream before he could really dig in and declined the rest claiming to be quite full from dinner, which of course was not a fallacy.
However, I believe that I may have to give up on feeling relieved when men drive me home after dates, because somehow even though I can see my front door or even be inside my apartment, men somehow find ways to drag these dates on and on. Before I could even express my thanks for the date, Mr. Spectacles had asked if he could come in. I do not even know if I said anything, but either way, Mr. Spectacles was inside my apartment in a heartbeat. My roommates were scattered about the living room watching a movie, so Mr. Spectacles planted himself on the couch and patted the seat next to him. Because I am not one to make a scene, I slumped onto the couch wishing that the movie was almost over rather than having just started.
Ever so slowly, Mr. Spectacles edged his hand onto his knee into "the position" wherein I could be bold and grab it or ever so slightly (and flirtatiously) touch it with my pinky if I had any inclination to play the hand-holding game. As I did not, I folded my arms tightly across my chest where it would take the steel jaws of death to wrench my arms apart. Unfortunately, as I concentrated on keeping my person confined to my section of the couch, I was oblivious to the fact that slowly my roommates began to disappear until Mr. Spectacles and I were the only living human beings in the apartment. I made a mental note to throttle my roommates when they returned home. After about an hour of uncomfortable silence, eyebrow wiggling and winking on the part of Mr. Spectacles, and cold dread on my part, Mr. Spectacles went home.
It was not a full hour before I began receiving texts from Mr. Spectacles in which he communicated his admiration for my physical beauty (*guffaw*) as well as his intentions to see me again and hopefully begin a serious relationship within the coming weeks. Unfortunately for him, but fortunately for me I had to decline his generous offer. My only serious worry is that my aunt will never speak to me again, but for my own well-being, I am not about to marry Mr. Collins. 2.0. It appears as though I might be having Sunday dinners on my own from now on.
Con Amor,
The Coquette
2 comments:
Wow, he sounds like a mix of too bold, too fast, and too out of his comfort zone. This is why I'm glad I don't have any family in Utah - because I'm sure this would be a regular occurrence, instead of Christmas time and maybe a weekend in summer.
This boy definitely needs some more dating tips and practice! This reminds me of a story..I was on a first date with a boy once and it was okay but I didn't think I was interested. Anyways we ended up watching a movie with two other couples already dating. His hand was in the "knee position" and mine were nice and folded. I didn't want to hold his hand but just put them down to rest and like a split second after my hand landed on my lap he snatched it up! Yes, extremely weird and I never went out with him again. It's nice to know that I'm definitely not the only one who experiences crazy dates ;)
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