Something new. . . The first meeting.

It's been forever since I posted, and I figured, it was about time to tell the few of you who still read this about something new going on in my life. Plus then my sister will stop yelling at me to "Write it in your journal," as this, for all intents and purposes, has been my journal for a while. If you cannot infer that I am a horrible journal writer lately from that, then you don't pay attention to my blog, and are probably not reading this.

Any way, I was hanging at my friend E's house with her kids on a Sunday afternoon, when the youngest, a precocious 4-year-old (H) asked me, "What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?"

Being silly, and though happily ensconced in my singledom, I jokingly replied, "A boyfriend."

"Then," H declared, "Santa will bring you a boyfriend!"

M's eyes lit up, and like a mad chef, she started listing things that he were musts in a boyfriend recipe for me (we'd been on a Once Upon a Time kick lately, and she knew I had a TV crush on Hook):

• He needs to make or like to eat good food--preferably both.
• He needs to like to watch movies.
• He needs to read his scriptures.
• He needs to like to read.

Yeah--it was an extensive list. 

Almost a week later (August 9), I went to a singles' dance. I wanted to go to said dance, because my friend Beth said she was going to come, and we had danced up a storm this past summer--and had fun no matter the circumstances (read: awkward singles' conferences). But Beth had just landed a new job, which meant a new move, and I was left on my lonesome. So not happy about it, I walked in, determined to leave at the slightest provocation. And then scolding myself for being so anti-social. I had come because for two years all I did was lesson plan for teenagers at 6 in the morning, and it was time to have more friends and more fun. 

I walked in, chose a table, and gauged the crowd. People seemed to know each other, and no one seemed to know me. It was a Blast from the Past dance and people were dressed in various costumes (including one woman in a full steampunk outfit, which doesn't quite blast to any past, but whatever, nitpicking). One girl kindly recognized me from a previous conference (because I helped her figure out the temple schedule), and I tentatively joined her group. 

An enthusiastic dancer in a Thundercats T-shirt singled me out. A few times. He randomly knew my friend Eddie, and I had to laugh because Eddie and I had randomly talked about Mr. Thundercats before (He had contemplated going with us--Beth, Eddie, and I--to the DC singles conference in June). And when I was not about to dance to the Macarena, he kept hold of my hand as we walked back to the table. But I was not about to come off the market, so I encouraged him to hit the dance floor again, while I chatted with others. 

Each time he danced with me, he would look me in the eye, and my defenses were on massive alert. And I couldn't meet his eyes, it was too intimate--too something. And he held me close, and as a fat girl, it made me very uncomfortable. Turns out, although there are days I think I am fine with my size (and that it will be my size forever due to my crazy health issues), I was less than comfortable (or believing) that a guy would be okay with it.

I kept dancing. I would notice when he would dance with other girls, and be a little annoyed. But I was not ready to take any steps toward someone when I just started attending singles activities! That would be ridiculous. When I was done with the evening, I snuck out. I felt bad though, for not saying, "Bye!" 

Don't worry, later, I found him on Facebook. I noticed he was friends with my friend J*, and so I thought, "okay, he is probably not an ax murderer^." 

"Are you the guy who danced up a storm at the Singles' Dance in Apex tonight?"

"If you're the cutie I had a wonderful time dancing with, yes."

to be continued. . . .

*there is another story there. 

^here, too.