Cookies and Conversation

3/03/2014 The Blue Stocking 1 Comments

Last night I went to cookies and conversation. Yes that's a real thing. My friend Cali and I went together (solidarity sister) and I met up with our usual crowd AKA the bishopric’s wives. One of the wives (let’s call her Mrs. Bennet) told us we needed to get out there and flirt it up. I laughed off her suggested and said most seriously, absolutely not. Nothing against flirting, but I don’t deal well with forced social interaction.

She insisted and physically pushed my friend and me towards a group of three guys. Cali tried to make the best of the situation and start a conversation with said guys. Instead of reciprocating they went right back to talking to each other.

Yes it’s a real mystery how we’re all still single.
Cali took our rejecting in stride and turned away to find the bishop behind us. I barely said two sentences to him when I felt the firm hands of Sister Bennet on my shoulder. We were caught. She leaned close, “I told you to talk to boys, not talk to the only married men here,” and once again pushed us into the middle of the cultural hall.

At this point I was thoroughly done for the night. I turned looking for a door when someone called out to me by name. Henry. Henry called my name because he knows it, because he remembered it, because he loves me.
We walked over to him and spent the rest of the night geeking out over our nerdy and obsessive relationship with fictional characters. A conversation that would forever mark us as unmarriable in our own right. Then we said our goodbyes and left.

Last night I entered into the FB debate: to friend or not to friend. To friend too quickly would label me as desperate and obsessed. On the other hand, we did have three significant interactions under our belt. It was decided, I would wait till morning to casually proclaim my like in the most subtle form possible.  

As I was recounting my tale of name remembering and love to my friends via text, this popped up on my phone “Henry sent you a friend request.”

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-The Bluestocking

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I love this story. Seriously. And I love/hate Mrs. Bennett. Because usually I'm found talking with the only married men.