follow up from my prince at the bar

So last weekend, I got hit on by a guy at a bar. (or the closest thing BYU has to a bar.) To read that story, and fully appreciate this follow-up Click HERE.

I did give the guy my number, and I have a rule that I can't say no to a first date, so I went to lunch with him. 

The following is a series of factual statements of events with zero judgment, just actual occurrences from the date. You are welcome to draw your own conclusions as to whether or not you would have enjoyed this date: 

• His favorite color is Yellow. "Yellow is a girlie color, you know spring and flowers and all that. But you haven't heard my reasoning!" 
• The "Crotch Rocket," (which is a motorcycle apparently) is Yellow. Obviously.
•  As I was eating the lettuce wraps from P.F. Changs (you know the really messy ones you eat with your hands), a small piece of chicken fell onto my plate. He said with sincere happiness, "I'm so glad you're a messy eater! Cause it makes me feel more comfortable! Now I can eat like a slob because you do!"
• He took the entire serving dish worth of spicy mustard (their equivalent of wasabi) and put it on one bite to "feel like a man." I asked him if it worked, if he felt like a man. He said yes. 
• On the way out the door, he walked me to my car and held out his hand. "Will you hold this while I go for a walk?"
• I responded by shaking his hand. Like meeting-a-new-boss hand shake. He said, "You're funny!"
• As I was rummaging in my backseat putting my wallet back, he said, "I left you a little note to remember me by" and winked as he walked away. 
• Drawn by his finger in the dirt on my back windshield were the words "WASH ME"
• As he pulled around his car out of the parking lot, I was still standing outside, and I hear: "OW OW" in the good, old-fashioned cat-call style. 

this is a model--not my date. 

I might have to amend my "no saying no to a first date" rule. 

getting hit on at a bar: an odd cliche

BYU has been rated the #1 stone-cold sober school for the last 20 years. There's not a big "bar scene" here.

Last night I went to a concert at the closest thing BYU has to a club--"The Wall." My friend's band was playing, so I went to go see him there. I left my pregnant friend at our table, and went to the "bar" counter to get us two glasses of water. 

I'm standing at the counter and I hear a guy saying, "hey. Psst! Hey!" Until I look over and find a young man with his fist holding up his chin, the other hand around his drink (lemonade I think) sitting at the bar, trying to get my attention. 

"Yes...?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"he shout-whispers over the music. 

"Sure"

"You're beautiful" 

I laugh, awkwardly. He was almost charming. certainly bold."Thanks."

(Had I been on my game, I would have said, "That's not a secret!" missed it.)

"Can I tell you another secret?"

"uh... sure?"

"'s not really a secret, it's a question." 

"Ok" He was acting a little drunk frankly. I'm 100% certain he wasn't. Perhaps this pseudo-bar-esque atmosphere just makes people a little weird. 

"How tall are you?"

"5'9". how tall are you?"

how long does it take to fill 2 glasses of water??

"6'1""

"good height" 

"really?" he looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Like that was the most wonderful thing he'd heard all year.

"Hey--you got any sweet plans for the weekend?"

"uh... I dunno" 

"well here!"He whips out a pen, and a napkin, and slides them both across the bar. "give me your number and maybe we can make some."

Shoot. I should've seen that coming. I didn't want to be rude. and I feel like he had the guts to ask, and I'm stuck here waiting for my water... What was the guy doing? getting the oxygen and hydrogen molecules separately to watch the chemical reaction turn to liquid? 

He got a funny little side smile at his  accomplishment in obtaining my number. And I caught a glance at the shirt he was wearing: "You don't need a permit for these guns" with two arrows pointing at his biceps. Classy. 

Finally my waters were handed to me over the counter. 

"I'll see you later" he called as I turned to go back to my table.

When I arrived, my friend, having observed the whole ordeal, was laughing out loud. 

"That was wonderful" She said through giggles.

"Shut up" I said playfully, "the sacrifices I make to bring you water!"

"I'm so glad I'm not still single. Single life is the worst!"

Truth. 

Searching for Signal

A little while ago, a big group of friends (a Nauvoo reunion for those of you who know what that is) went down to Southern Utah for an adventure. Monday morning: sandwiches packed, granola bars in hand, maps at the ready, everyone was set to drive to our destination trail head to start the hike. We stop at the visitor's center to clarify our route, and I look at my phone to check the time.

 A little bit of back story: for the past month, I've been desperately job searching. I'd been rejected, I'd exhausted my resources, and the only jobs I got were "direct advertising" and "financial planning" which is euphemistic for Sam's Club and Insurance sales.

I was waiting to hear back from my ONE, LAST, HOPE for summer employment. I'd interviewed with them the week before and they told me they'd let me know by the beginning of the next week.

So here we are, Monday at 11:00am. I have one missed call, from an unknown Utah number, and a new voice message. But I can't check the voice mail because we have NO service in the depths of Capital Reef National Park. 

You can imagine my distress. What if they're calling me to tell me I didn't get it? Or what if they're calling to say I did?! What if they need me to call them back ASAP with.. I don't know...insurance info? Or a work-email password? Or my shoe size? I've never had a real-life grown-up job--that could be a thing.

So my sweet friend, David Thunell, offers to drive me out of the canyon until I get service so I can check my voice mail and hear my fate for the rest of the summer. Everyone lovingly complies and agrees to wait for us at the base of the trailhead. We wind slowly out of the canyon, with little bits of cell service, coming in and out. My angst growing by the second. Finally we reach a place with a comfortable 3 bars, and I call my voice mail and hear the demonic, automated words:

"You've reached the voice mail box of ____Averill Corkin__ Please leave a message" BEEP

"Thunell!" I panic, "There's something wrong. When I call my voice mail, it won't let me check it, it wants me to leave a message. This has never happened before."

"We can call it on my phone. Do you know your password?"

"No." I'm useless. My future career is a button click away, and the stupid button won't click correctly!

"Here, I'll leave you another message" He calls me on his phone, we hear: "You've reached the voice mail box of ____Averill Corkin__ Please leave a message. BEEP"

"Sister Corkin!" In his best pick-up-line voice (which is very smooth, Thunell, by the way), "How bout you and I hang out a little bit later, ya? I'll call you later to make sure you say yes ;)"

New Voice Message appears on my screen. I click the button. 

What I should hear is "You have two new Voice messages. To listen to your messages press one" but instead I hear, "You've reached the voice mail box of ____Averill Corkin__ Please leave a message" BEEP

GAH!

We turned off and on the phone, we checked my data, we checked my email, everything we could think of. My heart was pounding faster by the minute.  

Finally the message came through as a visual voicemail. I listened with baited breath. Then gave the OK to drive back to the trailhead and report the news to my family waiting there. 

As we pulled in, the YPMs gathered around the car with hopeful faces. Whisperings of "did she get it?"..."she's smiling!" ..."That's a good sign!" until I popped out of the car and reported:

"That was Michelle, from the office on State Street" 

"And...?"

"And she was calling to remind me I have an orthodontist appointment tomorrow at 2:00"

Everyone burst out laughing with relief and grief at the same time. We then had a wonderful hike and a wonderful weekend. 

And when 2:00 rolled around the next afternoon, I spaced and missed my orthodontist appointment completely.