Youth and diffidence united.

6/29/2012 The Lady 3 Comments

Why is that women must suffer from nice person syndrome and men do not? We are brought up to always be gracious and accept dates no matter what. The only exception being if we feared for the well-being of our physical person. But men do not have to abide this rule as they are the ones who do the asking. If they don't like a girl or are not interested in her, they simply don't ask her out. Thus avoiding most awkward dating experiences. (I do realize that men do have awkward experiences, but allow to generalize). But upon us--the female sex--are heaped the mountains of awkward dating stories because we must always accept.

On Wednesday, I rode with my roommates and some guy friends to a ward party. As I clambered into the tightly packed car, I was introduced to Mr. Ward Friend's younger brother, Mr. Innocence. I thought to myself, "How cute, Mr. WF brought his sixteen-year-old brother (who must be visiting from _______) with him to the ward party for a taste of 'college life.'"  The car ride was uneventful as most car rides tend to be. The ward party however, was a different sort of eventful. Throughout the course of the evening, I would catch Mr. Innocence staring at me while I chatted with different groups of people. When he would see me notice him staring, he would grin widely and wave enthusiastically. I would laugh and wave back all the while thinking, "What a funny little kid." By the end of the party, Mr. Innocence was following me around, telling me corny jokes, and giggling wildly at anything I said. As precious as he was, I had no desire to encourage a sixteen-year-old. Unfortunately, on the way home I somehow ended up being wedged between Mr. WF and his little brother who decided it would be fun to play corners through the Provo Canyon. Delightful. When the two buffoons weren't busy squashing me with their bony shoulders, Mr. WF spent his time making ridiculous comments. Example: "Lady, if you're feeling sleepy you could just put your head on Mr. Innocence's shoulder, he would love that!" I had never before noticed how long it took to get back to Provo from the canyon.

When we pulled up to our apartment complex, I sprang from the car as fast as I could, but Mr. Innocence called after me and came jaunting to my side. My heart cringed as I knew what was coming. Isn't this illegal?! "Hey," he began shakily, "so my brother, an old mission companion and I are doing a group date tomorrow, and I was wondering if you would like to come with me?" Wait, you're not sixteen? You've actually graduated high school and served a mission? I don't know if I was more relieved or worried. I had spent all night with this guy who I thought was a minor and he pulled off a convincing show, but it turns out he is a returned missionary who just happens to look and act like a child. Goodie.

But I followed the rules, as I knew I must. I agreed to the date.


I made some unwise decisions the next day. By a random happenstance, I had the afternoon off work, so I decided I would spend my it lounging at the pool. Being unlike most people, who find swimming and being in the sun refreshing, the combination of sunshine and water have the ability to steal away every ounce of energy from my body. Once I step out of the pool, I become listless, fumbling, uncaring, and sometimes even bitter. Over the years, I have come to avoid swimming as much as possible because said ramifications. So spending hours at the pool before this date was not one of my best decisions.

While I battled with my wet and gnarled hair, I glared gloomily at my reflection and thought about how much I was dreading this date. When Mr. Innocence knocked on the door, my faithful roommate promised to call me at 11:00 pm with a prepared emergency if I wasn't home by then. I put on a brave face, but could feel that my feigned pleasantness could only last an hour because of how much of my life-source the sun had stolen. Mr. Innocence and I walked over to Mr. WF's apartment where we were greeted by the other happy couples and a large pot of hastily prepared spaghetti. With every minute, an ounce of annoyance was ladled into my being. Spaghetti being one of my least favorite meals was the last thing I wanted to see that night. After a dinner full of pointless small talk and awkward silences broken only by the slurping of spaghetti, the men explain that night's activity. "It's really fun," they promised. Mr. WF looked at his watch, "Yeah, but we better get started soon because I've never done this in less than five hours before." I inwardly groaned. Not only was I on a date with a high school look-a-like, but I was on one of those pre-prom group dates with poorly cooked food and hours and hours of useless hanging out.

Mr. Innocence surprisingly wasn't a bad date that night. In fact by the end of it, I was grateful that I was on the date with him instead of with Mr. WF (who I thought was my friend?). But also by the end of the night's activities, I was ready to strangle everyone in the room. The date was over four hours long, and if I was having an ounce of annoyance ladled into my being every minute, that means by the end of the night I had over 240 ounces of annoyance burning inside of me, if not more. Mr. WF mentioned by the end that he was surprised by how quickly we had finished. He was on the verge of suggesting another activity when one of the other girls mentioned that she had work early in the morning. Bless you.

I went on a prom date. With a child. No, with three grown children and their dates. It wasn't the worst date of my life, but good heavens I hope to never have to suffer through one like it again.

At least I can say that I'm still faithfully following the rules of always saying, "Yes."

Con Amor,
The Lady