A man's imagination is very rapid.

11/11/2016 The Dilettante 1 Comments

I want to tell you about a moment of utter panic that I had this morning. It looked a little like this:

For alas, I made the mistake of being too charming last night on my date with Grant.
Now, I like Grant. I met him a couple months ago when he was visiting my YSA ward. He thinks I'm funny, and he's really nice. But he doesn't talk. It's like pulling nails to get him to say words. 
My response to painfully awkward silence is babbling. About anything. So when I'm with him, I just yammer on like Foghorn Leghorn. My entire life story comes out. It's over, and the silence is still awkward. I start telling my friends' life stories.
He's told me twice now that he loves listening to me talk. Drat.
Last night was our first date, but I'd managed to convince myself we were just hanging out. Grant told me on our walk that he'd recently had to cut ties with his last group of friends, and he was grateful he could just come to the city and do something. Great! I thought. I mean, after all, I was wearing sweats. And hadn't washed my hair in two days. Sorta on purpose. I'm just starting up his next friend group. He'll probably make a bunch more, and we can hang out in groups so there are more people talking. He pointed out his favorite restaurant, and said we should go next week. I agreed, but hinted that we should invite some of the other YSAs. Just a bunch of friends.
Then this.

Tell me, dear friends. What would Jane Austen do?

Clueless as always,
The Dilettante

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Emily said...

Oh No!!! I'm sorry. Good luck navigating this one.